SIR ANDREW AND PHILLIP HIS SON-IN-LAW MAKE FRIENDS AND ENEMIES.
The marriage of Charley and Miss Clara was duly announced in the
newspapers, and the style in which it was said to have been conducted
so astonished the clerks and employés of the India House and other
circles in which he was formerly known, that every one unanimously
considered that Charles must have had “a windfall,” or “a very sudden
rise” in the world.
Sir Andrew, in the retirement of his little country house heard of it.
Mr. Phillip Redgill in the smoky, dingy, card and gambling rooms,
also heard of it, and both were very much surprised.
The latter thought he would lose no time in congratulating young
Warbeck.
“For he’s well up now,” said Phillip, “and will be a sure card for a
hundred or two, if I ask him.”
Other persons besides these two notable individuals had heard of the
marriage.
Miss Josephine Smith was present during the ceremony, and, in giving
an account of the affair, said that the bridegroom looked happy and
handsome.
But “as to the bride—ugh! good gracious! she was a perfect fright!
All curls, as usual, my dear, and looking like a frost-bitten turnip!”
Augustus Fumbleton, Esq., was also aware of the awful event, and
confessed that he had now lost every earthly hope, and was fast
falling away in flesh and figure.
But as he seemed to be enjoying himself as usual with an evening
drive in the occasional company of a fast-dressing woman, who was
said to be already married, his most intimate friends could see but
little diminution in the rotundity of his form or the proverbial
magnitude of his general appetite.
The “lady,” with whom Augustus Fumbleton, Esq., occasionally drove
out, was said to bear the name of _Redgill_!
Phillip had gradually fallen in the social scale.
He was not attired so sumptuously or neatly as of yore.
He was said to be extremely “seedy” in habits and appearance, and
frequently very short of cash.
He seldom visited his wife, and seemed to care little what she did or
with whom she might choose to associate.
He had introduced her to all kinds of persons, and she had formed,
perhaps, exceptionable acquaintance.
But of this he cared nothing, so that she troubled him little for
money, he was indifferent as to her associates and hours of leaving
or returning home.
His wife, it must be confessed, was equally indifferent in her
feelings towards her liege lord.
He had inaugurated habits of card and wine parties and very late
hours and scenes of debauchery at her home, and as she was thrown
into indifferent company—as she was expected and almost compelled
to do the honours of the house and table to whomsoever visited her
husband—it cannot be expected that the gaily-inclined Fanny was proof
against the many temptations to which she was almost continually
exposed.
She was, in truth, the gay, gambling wife of a gay, gambling,
debauched and conscienceless husband.
* * * * *
No matter what others might think, it is recorded in the interesting
“Chronicle,” that Charley and his young wife were extremely happy,
nay, supremely so, and often confessed to each other, when sitting in
the portico of their new and elegant house, that Providence had been
very good and kind to them, and that their cup of happiness was full
to the brim.
With a chip sun-bonnet in her hand, and leaning on Charles’s arm,
Clara would go forth, all happiness, for an evening walk, and as they
strolled in the green fields, or gazed upon the numerous snow-white
sails moving to and fro on the bright splashing waters of the Thames,
Clara would often laughingly recount how she first felt a partiality
for the husband she then so highly prized and almost adored.
While Charley, full of humour and nonsense, would joke so wittingly
and merrily until Clara become crimson in face, and shook her mass of
raven curls with bewitching innocence and coquetry.
When it began to be noised abroad that the newly-married couple
were well circumstanced in life, and backed by influential moneyed
interests, public opinion began to grow very rapidly favourable in
regard to Mr. Charley Warbeck.
So that, when he occasionally promenaded with his pretty,
curly-headed bride, there were not a few of his former acquaintance
who very suddenly recollected his existence and former footing, and
did not fail, indeed, to recognise him in fashionable thoroughfares
and places of public business.
Many, both young and old, who but a few months before had passed him
in the streets, without a word or look of recognition, now bravely
advanced to meet him with—
“Ah, Charley, my boy, how do you do? Allow me to congratulate you.”
Or,
“Hullo, Charley! how are you?”
Many merchants and very respectable men of trade were not backward in
offering him shares in their business.
Tradesmen’s cards poured in upon him by the hundred.
And he suddenly found himself surrounded by many who literally bored
him with their civilities, and proffered to grant him any favour he
desired, even to credit, as they said, “for any amount.”
The lesson he had received was not lost upon him.
It had given him a greater insight into human nature than he had ever
before possessed.
So that he smiled at this sudden “change in the wind,” as he called
it, and despised these sycophantic leeches with an honest indignation
well-nigh amounting to loathing.
He seemed in no hurry to enter into business.
As the times were even yet unsettled from the recent financial panic,
he contented himself, therefore, with looking out for some favorable
opening for investing his capital to the best advantage.
And, instead of accepting any of the numberless invitations to balls
and parties of which his wife was in constant receipt, the fond young
couple contented themselves with boat excursions on the river, or
frequent evening visits to good old Dame Worthington, with whom, and
the stately Mistress Haylark, they passed many happy hours, and never
seemed weary of their company.
Dame Worthington, in truth, was fast failing in health.
Yet, despite all her infirmities, she bustled about as busily and
loquacious as of yore.
Nor did the mother-in-law lose an iota of that stateliness and
solemnity of behaviour which was supposed to be hereditary with “the
Haylarks,” and upon which, next to her reputation for “firmness,” she
greatly prided herself.
In truth, Clara’s marriage only seemed to expand the mother’s
importance.
She patronised flaming colours and the “latest styles” more
recklessly than ever.
And in her frequent visits to Clara’s house, she was the terror of
the servants, from the amount of fuss and bother of which she was
always the occasion.
Her lectures on housekeeping were long and frequent, during the
delivery of which Charley always wisely lit a cigar, and took a
stroll in the garden.
The “best bed” and “the best room” were always reserved for “dear
mama,” and from her increasing volubility on all topics connected
with married life, and from the number of times she left her daughter
in tears from scoldings regarding household affairs, Mr. Charley
Warbeck thanked his lucky stars that she had not proposed to live
with them altogether.
For “if such braggadocio and endless lectures are characteristic of
‘the Haylarks’” he thought, “I am very glad little Clara has not
inherited any of the hereditary virtues of that illustrious family.”
If “mama’s” semi-weekly visits always ended in Clara crying, Dame
Worthington’s had the contrary effect.
For the little wife was supremely happy, and always laughing at the
old lady’s stories about “dear Charley.”
In truth, Dame Worthington seemed to know so much about him, and her
memory reached so far back, that Clara thought her husband must have
been a very young, and a very small child indeed, when the old lady
had first made his acquaintance.
At all events, Clara thought,
“She is very loving, and thoughtful, and kind. She loves _me_ very
much, and, as for ‘dear Charles,’ she idolizes _him_, and a mother
could not manifest more care and anxiety for his welfare and
happiness than _she_ does.”
Sir Richard frequently visited Dame Worthington as usual, and had a
long chat with her in her snug back parlour.
And, upon some occasions, the robust, short-breathing, imposing
Mistress Haylark would join the party, and monopolize all the
conversation.
And it mattered little what topic was broached, Mistress H. always
had a very long oration ready at her finger-tips for the occasion,
and backed up all arguments or assertions with an everlasting appeal
to “the Haylarks,” whether living or defunct.
Sir Richard became used to her loquacity, but frequently dozed in his
arm-chair, and, falling fast asleep, ignominiously left the field of
debate to herself, or to any one courageous enough to take up the
cudgel and defy “the Haylarks,” constant and only authority on all
subjects.
Dame Worthington’s house never flourished so much as it had since the
wedding; and the old lady, it must be confessed, was “saving money.”
She had always contrived to do _that_, however.
So that now, although “times were hard,” and “money very tight,” as
it always _is_, the old gentlewoman was laying by a considerable sum,
and seemed to take much delight in saving or accumulating every spare
penny.
* * * * *
But if prosperity had attended all the industrious efforts of
the good old lady, and her newly-married “children,” as she
affectionately termed them, there were other persons who figure in
our story who had little of which to boast of in that particular.
Sir Andrew’s farming operations in the country were productive of
little profit.
And he foresaw that ere long he must seek some other sphere than that
of agriculture in which to make sufficient to satisfy his wants and
daily growing greed.
One would have imagined that such misfortunes as he had experienced
might have allayed his ruling passion for money; yet it did not.
The older he grew the more avaricious he became.
And to such an extent that he stinted his farm-servants so much
that every one left him, and his immediate household affairs were
conducted on such miserly principles that he even begrudged his wife
the common necessaries of life!
His sole and absorbing ambition seemed to be mere “accumulation.”
“I am not more dishonest than the rest of people,” he would mutter,
as he walked along the country roads and lanes. “There are hundreds
who have failed beside myself, and are now in a flourishing business.
Why cannot _I_ be the same?”
Christianity, its virtues, and its responsibilities, hung very
lightly on the shoulders of this old man.
He went to church, it is true, and sang and prayed as loudly and
lustily as any member of it.
It was a “respectable thing” to belong to the church.
But it must be confessed that his most fervent prayer was in
supplication for the framing of some law which prohibited all
imprisonment for debt!
Sir Andrew, in his arm-chair, comfortably seated before the fire of
his little farm-house, spent hours every evening in devising plans
for recommencing business.
He was not particular as to _what_ it might be, so that money should
result from it.
He thought of the banks, and sighed devoutly at the fearful amounts
which some were said to possess.
He ran through his personal reminiscences, and past life, and
could point to persons in high stations, and of “unimpeachable
respectability” whom he had known in years past, and often thought,
“If so-and-so had his due, he would be half-starving, or in prison,
instead of rolling about so grandly with his carriage and greys.”
Such thoughts arose, not from honest indignation but from envy and
gall.
Old Sir Andrew was thoroughly disgusted with himself and the world.
He was determined, however, to make another attempt at success.
But his son-in-law was like a heavy chain bound to his legs, and he
could not move in any direction but he encountered either Fanny or
Phillip.
And what a change had come over Fanny, his daughter!
She had separated from her husband.
But why?
The cause was this.
One night Phillip Redgill had a card party at his house.
Among those present, and who lost heavily at play, was Augustus
Fumbleton, Esq.
Phillip was maddened with wine.
The memory of his wickedness and crime came over him.
Which ever way he looked he seemed to behold the apparition of his
murdered father.
The terrible legs seemed to haunt him wherever he went.
While cards and dice were at their height, and all were merry, some
one loudly knocked at the door.
The servant went and opened it.
Again the knocks were repeated.
And again did the servants go to the door.
They opened it, and looked out into the street.
But no one was there.
“This seems strange,” said one to another, in a whisper.
“I have seen and heard stranger things than that in this house,” was
the answer. “I believe the place is haunted.”
While thus they conversed together with open door,
The heavy sounds of footsteps were heard entering the hall.
The two servants turned their heads.
It was the gory legs of Farmer Bertrand they saw.
With a loud shout, and looks of horror on their faces, the terrified
domestics rushed upstairs in dread alarm.
“What means this?” growled Phillip, as he seized one of them by the
throat, and drew his sword. “What means this, knave, eh? Go forth
into the passage again, and return with better news, or take the
consequences.”
The servant did as he was bidden, but had scarcely got into the
passage when he rushed back again in increased terror, and upset a
card table, money, and all upon the floor.
Every one present were now alarmed.
They heard the distant solemn tramp of heavy footsteps.
When, lo! there entered the room, with horrible stride, the gory
limbs.
Phillip Redgill turned deadly pale.
His eyes darted almost from their sockets.
He gasped with terror, and his drawn sword trembled in his nerveless
hand.
“Phillip Redgill——” the spectre voice began.
“No, no, no; mercy! ’twas not I!” gasped Phillip. “No, no! I see also
the ghost of my father; but I did not do it! Away! away! Avaunt!
gory, ghostly, damnable spectacle, avaunt!”
“Phillip Redgill, my footsteps will follow you for ever!” said the
voice, which died away in the distance.
“Never! never!” said Phillip, staggering from horror.
“Ever! ever!” repeated the spectre voice.
With his heart bursting in fury Phillip tore his neck-cloth into
ribbons.
His breast heaved with remorse and passion.
“Wine wine,” he said, with a fiendish laugh; “wine, wine, I say!”
His wife handed him a goblet brim full.
He gulped it down.
He threw the goblet into a corner of the room, and in fury struck
Fanny to the ground.
The gallants present immediately stepped forward to protect the
fallen woman.
With bitter curses on their lips for his brutality they drew their
swords.
“Ha! ha! my braves!” said Phillip, pale as a ghost, and looking half
idiotic and wild; “ha! ha! my braves! I see, my wife hath many ready
to defend her. Come on, then, one and all.”
“So be it,” said Augustus Fumbleton, drawing his “toasting fork,” and
assailing Phillip.
“The man who lays his hand upon a woman except in kindness, is a
scoundrel,” he added.
Phillip was more like a maniac than a man.
But just as the husband and the lover were about to engage, Fanny
threw herself in between the combatants.
“Hold!” she cried, in a voice of pain, and with blood streaming down
her features.
“Hold!” she cried, “Phillip Redgill! husband! murderer! if you _will_
spill blood, shed mine!”
“Murderer!” muttered Phillip, with chattering teeth! “murderer?”
“Yes, _murderer_!” gasped Fanny, with a firm, defiant tone; “spirits
of the dead haunt you both night and day.”
“Liar! witch! sorceress!” exclaimed Phillip; “die with that lie in
your throat.”
He made a desperate pass at his injured wife.
His sword was knocked up.
Next moment he was the centre of a fierce and deadly conflict.
The clash of swords, the sound of smashed mirrors, vases, windows,
and the like, was heard on every hand.
* * * * *
When Phillip woke next morning he found his house deserted.
No one was nigh.
He lay upon the floor, with a sword cut across his brow, amid the
ruins of chairs, tables, glasses, and a thousand fragments of
ornaments and furniture.
“Where am I?” he said.
And he looked round with amazement on the wreck.
All things were in a wild state of confusion.
His brain was all on fire with drink, excitement, and pain.
“Oh, now I remember all,” he gasped.
The memory of all which had happened that night flashed before his
mind.
While he lay in a state of stupor his eye caught light of a small
dagger sticking in the card table.
It pinned down a note.
It was in Fanny’s handwriting.
He tore it open and read—
“Farewell and for ever for the rest of her days.
“Your worst enemy,
“FANNY.”
“My wife absconded! the house ransacked! the servants gone! How is
this? What can it mean? Am I dreaming?”
“Dreaming? No, man; you were never more wide awake in all your life,”
said a distant voice, with a coarse laugh.
Phillip Redgill recognized the voice.
It was that of Captain Jack.
“_You_ here,” said Phillip, astonished.
“Yes; and why not? Where would _you_ have been if I hadn’t?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t suppose you do. A man that was dead drunk and half crazy
last night, mixed up with tilt and point among a dozen or more
desperate gallants is not supposed to have very clear brains the
morning after. ’Twas lucky we came to your assistance or you wouldn’t
be sprawling on the floor as you now are.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, the thing is soon explained. I heard that a party of gambling
youngsters were gathered at your house last night, and, knowing them
to have more money than brains, I, Faulkner, and several others made
up our minds to give you a call, so as to relieve them of a little of
their spare cash. As we approached the house we heard you all high in
oath.
“I rushed in at the doorway, but was fiercely beaten back by several
gallants.
“I gave the word to my men to fall on the enemy without mercy.
“Just at that moment I perceived your wife hurrying downstairs, the
way being led by one of her many lovers.”
“Many lovers?” said Redgill; “surely you do not mean to insinuate
that my wife is a strumpet and——”
“Never mind about wasting more breath about her, Redgill,” said
Captain Jack; “because if you don’t know her character, I do, and
have done so long ago.”
“What!”
“Nay, nay; get not so hot, but let me continue with my story.
Directly I gave the word to my men they each singled out a customer,
and we fought desperately with our knives in the entrance-hall; the
place was too small for the proper use of our swords, so I am sorry
to say,” said Captain Jack, with a laugh, “that we had to cut the
throats of one or two in the entrance hall (see Cut in No. 10), but
it was all fair play. They didn’t know us, you see, so it don’t much
matter. We quickly threw their bodies into the river, and they are
food for the fish.”
“But my wife?” said Phillip surprised.
“Your wife, eh? she seems to give you much trouble all at once.”
“Well, what of her?”
“Why, she has run off with the man who gave you that nasty cut across
the forehead.”
“And who was he?”
“Why, that elegant young man Fumbleton.”
A terrible oath escaped from Phillip, and he rose to his feet,
looking like a blood-stained demon.
“I will be revenged,” said he, “if it costs me my life!”
“And so you shall,” said Captain Jack, “if you only let the matter
remain quietly for a short time. Fumbleton is rich, and can bear
plucking.”
“He has been plucked many times, I hear,” said Phillip, “and on one
occasion to the tune of £2,000.”
“I know he has. _I_ was the one to do it,” said Captain Jack.
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
“How?”
“Well, that I will tell you as we go along. You must leave this house
at once.”
“But the furniture—I am not going to leave that behind?”
“You might as well, it ain’t worth anything.”
“Worth nothing—what do you mean?”
“Mean this, my boy; I have sold the house, furniture and all.”
“You? why it all belongs to me.”
“Perhaps so,” said Captain Jack, “but then you see why Fanny ran away
with Fumbleton. I knew you would not remain here long, so while you
were snoring I bundled off the servants, and sold everything.”
“Very polite of you, certainly.”
“Oh, don’t mention it—a friend of mine gave me a tempting price for
the whole lot, so I took it, of course, being short of money, and
as you deserve a trifle on our old account, why of course it’s all
right.”
“But it’s all wrong. Where’s the money?”
“In my pocket,” said Captain Jack, very coolly, “where it is likely
to remain until I want it.”
“And what do you want with me so early in the morning?” asked Phillip.
“Wash yourself, and get out of the house as soon as possible, and
then I’ll tell you. There, that will do; don’t take overmuch pains
with yourself—you ain’t going far,” said Captain Jack, with a
sinister smile.
“But where to?”
“You’ll soon see; but as I was about to say, regarding Fumbleton;
he’s been after your wife a long time, and you are the one to blame,
for if you _would_ introduce her to all the worst sparks in town, why
of course you can’t expect her to respect you much.”
“You are very kind with your advice this morning,” said Phillip; “one
would almost imagine you had turned parson.”
“So I have, when there’s been a hanging going on, and no one near to
read the service. But as I was saying about Fumbleton; he fancies he
can play billiards, and so unknown to him I disguised my friend Alick
Faulkner, some months ago, and they agreed to make a match for £500 a
side. Now, Faulkner and I played a good deal together, but I always
beat him, and as Fumbleton always beat me, because I let him, Alick
was thought to be a good “mark” for the elegant young swell. The
number of points in the game was to be 1,000.”
Gentlemen amateurs who were supposed to have had ‘the straight tip’
were freely staking any odds on Fumbleton, which the “knowing ones,”
with Alick as their champion, were eagerly accepting.
“When play commenced in the evening, there was much interest
displayed by professionals to watch the game, and from the superior
manner in which the young swell was playing, it was evident he would
beat Faulkner his antagonist, with the greatest imaginable ease.
In truth it must be confessed that he threw away many chances where
he could have easily “counted.”
But Fumbleton had so much of a lead, that he frequently amused
himself with making “fancy shots” for his own, and the amusement of
professional adepts, who loudly applauded him.
Towards ten o’clock the game was half over, and the miserable style
in which Alick played, brought down very stinging remarks from
bystanders, so that leaving him more than one hundred points in the
rear, out of seven hundred then played, it was agreed to adjourn for
the sake of supper and to finish the game afterwards.
Fumbleton partook freely of wine, and was all impatience to
recommence the game.
Alick did not seem at all inclined for more humiliation at the
swell’s hands, and to all appearance returned to the table very
reluctantly.
The state of the game was apparent to all.
Fumbleton was considered to be much too far ahead to be overtaken by
Alick, and any odds were freely offered on him and taken.
But the game suddenly changed in its character.
Instead of playing in his former slow and undecided style, Mr. Alick
hit rapidly, scientifically, and so often, that he materially altered
his score, and was soon close at the heels of Fumbleton, who
opened his eyes widely at this sudden exhibition of his opponent’s
skill.
“Never mind,” said he to his friends, “he can’t do it _again_, you
know; it was all luck that time, I shall now go in and win with a
rush.”
Alick had similar ideas also, and gained on Fumbleton so far, that
when but fifty points remained to be played Alick was but five behind.
The chances row began to fluctuate, and Fumbleton’s friends, being
still confident, freely laid odds, which were now eagerly taken.
In truth the silly swell had made such fine play that but five
remained to complete his score, and make him the winner.
The other had twenty-five to get; but these were gotten with so
much rapidity that Alick, in enthusiasm, overran that number, amid
the applause of those in the “secret,” but apparently to his own
dissatisfaction, for he seemed surprised and annoyed, whispering
confidentially, as he pitched his cue and the bridge into the corner,
“I’ve won, but, upon my soul, Mr. Fumbleton, I wasn’t aware of it; I
intended to lose!”
This was exceedingly poor consolation to the swell, who sat vacantly
looking at the billiard board as one in a trance or dream.
It seemed that he considered it _impossible_ to be beaten by such an
opponent as Alick!
He was mistaken, however, and the best proof of it was that
the money was handed over to Alick that same night, and the swell
discovered himself to be minus of _not_ less than five hundred pounds
out of the six hundred pounds which he had brought to the billiard
room with him.
“Who’d a thought,” mused Fumbleton, “that I should have lost in so
unaccountable a manner; I am out of luck to-night, _that’s_ it! I can
beat _two_ such players as he is at _any_ time; but you _can’t_ play
against _luck_!”
To console the young swell, the winning parties declared that he was
the paragon of players, and hoped he would soon have _another_ game,
and for a _larger_ stake.
This latter remark seemed to contain a little more irony than Mr.
Fumbleton could bear, so that he flamed into a passion on the
instant, and high words arose.
Excited with wine, and infuriated to find he had been so egregiously
duped, the swell gave vent to his feelings in unmeasured terms,
calling Alick and his friends a parcel of scheming “black-legs,”
until finding words would avail but little, they handled him roughly.
A general fight ensued among the partisans, and the last thing
Augustus remembered in his cups was a general row, in which certain
persons’ boot-toes came in sudden and violent concussion with
certain parts of his person, and ejected him into the street, where
he found himself on the following morning, without money, jewellery,
and all high and dry in the mud.
Captain Jack laughed boisterously over what he had said. It was a
capital joke, and served young Fumbleton right, for he had not been
long from college, and was brimful of conceit and nonsense.
“I always make it a rule to look out for young collegians, when they
are running wild ‘about town,’ as it is called, because they think
they know everything. That £500, Alick Faulkner and I won, was the
making of us.”
“The making of you! How?”
“Why, we were so hard-up, we should have had to go to house-breaking
or something of that kind.”
“Well?”
“I knew a seedy ‘enemy’ of mine who had gone to house-breaking about
that time. He wanted me to join him in the venture. But he little
dreamed how much I hated him. I’ll tell you all about it one of these
days; but as time is now short, I shall only say that I ‘split’
on him, and my respectable appearance in the witness-box got him
transported for life. That’s how I generally pay off old scores with
‘lads’ who don’t act always on the square. After that I was appointed
one of the Crown officers, and have been so ever since. I knew the
chap at school, and hated him, and always swore to have him hung if I
could; but let us go in here—here is a wine shop, let’s have a bottle
together,” said Captain Jack, with a wicked smile.
“That reminds me of something that happened to me at school. It was
the first ‘clever’ thing I ever did,” said Phillip, drinking a long
draught of good wine.
“Indeed,” said Captain Jack, laughing. “I didn’t think you ever had
done anything clever except that affair of old Bertram.”
“Hus—s—sh!” said Phillip, turning pale; “don’t mention that.”
“You’d have been in a gibbet only for me,” said Captain Jack.
“Perhaps; but I bought your silence.”
“Yes, so that’s all square. Let’s hear your story. I’ve got
half-an-hour to pass in idleness; but all our gang have to muster
to-night; we’ve got ‘a great thing’ on hand. Will you join us?”
“That depends.”
“Depends? But you must.”
“Must, eh! Well then, if you say so, then must it shall be.”
“Go on with your story then.”
“You won’t blow on me.”
“Me? You must be dreaming.”
“But you’d never expect to hear what I’m going to tell.”
“Perhaps not, but whatever it is, out with it.”
So encouraged, and even now half drunk with wine, Phillip began his
story; his first step in crime, as he called it.
And as he went on, Captain Jack eyed him like a hawk, and his eyes
glistened with deadly malice towards Phillip, as Redgill began:—
“Tom Templeton was generally admitted to be the greatest Greek
scholar in college.
“Plato, Demosthenes and Xenophon were eternally in his hands, and his
favourite amusement seemed to be to have a ‘quiet half-hour’ with
Homer or Sophocles.
“How he could muster sufficient patience to pore over those
tantalizing authors, seemed a great mystery to all the Juniors,
but the ‘Nobs,’ ‘Dons,’ and ‘Big-wigs’ of the university would
complacently smile, take a pinch of snuff, and nod to Tom, who,
squatted at his ease upon the grass, would loll for hours under the
trees of our extensive grounds and park, and smoke with impunity, in
open defiance of every rule and regulation.
“He could leap, run, walk, fence, and, in fact, excel at anything to
which he seemed, inclined to pay attention, except swim, which he
never did.
“And he was such a favourite with all, that none seemed to take
notice, or be at all surprised at anything he might attempt or
accomplish.
“He had been known to kick a foot-ball over the college buildings,
three stories high, and had soundly thrashed three or four town
bullies, who were said to ‘travel on their muscle’ for a living.
“He never appeared to study very hard.
“A pipe was always in his mouth, and, strange to say, he had
fascinated all the university officials so effectually, that he
went in and out of places considered sacred to every one but the
president, or his high and mighty assistants.
“The private gardens, even, were open to him, with all their
much-envied riches of plums and fruits of various kinds.
“And Tompkins had more than once sworn that, when climbing the wall
one day to get at some pears, he saw him lying full length on a bench
smoking in the vineyards.
“Tom seems to have mesmerized the gardeners, or heavily bribed them,
for he was never at a loss for the gate keys.
“And should they be out of the way, he would simply scale the wall,
and commence his evening promenade with the inevitable meerschaum in
his mouth.
“One evening, two Dons caught him.
“They entered the garden, walked along the avenues of vines, and
there stood Mr. Tom, smoking as usual, as large as life, with a novel
in his hand!
“‘I imagined I smelt something,’ one of the old professors said. ‘How
comes it, sir, that—don’t you know——’
“Before he could add another word, Tom opened upon him with a fine
passage from Virgil, which being apropos as to time and place, and
well recited withal, disarmed the anger of the first doctor, who took
a pinch of snuff and passed on.
“The second was red with anger.
“And as he totally eschewed ‘the use of the abominable weed in any
form,’ was ready to explode with rage and indignation.
“For being a great epicure, he felt certain that most of the grapes
would fall to _his_ share at table, and didn’t wish their early
growth in any way retarded.
“‘Mr. Templeton! I am astounded at you, sir. How dare you imagine
that——’
“Tom did not appear to notice his remark, but casting a look of
surprise upon the pompous old gentleman in cap and gown, burst forth
into a Greek oration from the Iliad.
“And before the astonished professor could recover his surprise at
the action and voice of Templeton, who was personating Achilles among
his ‘black ships banked up on shore,’ left the vine walks in a state
of triumph.
“Tom had been several years at college, and was deservedly reputed to
be the best man ever on the rolls.
“He was light-hearted, gay, generous, a good musician, splendid
classic, and passionately fond of dancing.
“He was courted and petted by all the mothers in town—anxious to
provide for their daughters,
“The young ladies themselves were oftentimes at loggerheads to see
who should advance fastest in his good graces.
“As there were several female seminaries within a few miles of town,
intercourse was frequent at the houses of mutual friends or relatives.
“Many young men attending the University had sisters at a magnificent
seminary but two miles from town.
“And as the yearly gymnastic exercises of our college were about to
commence, evening drill was often patronized by the fair, so that the
University grounds presented a gay and animating appearance during
the beautiful evenings of May and June.
“Templeton had been elected chief of the gymnasts this year, and
in his blue uniform, faced with red and gold, presented a fine
appearance; so that there was more than one pair of eyes among the
ladies who watched his movements with interest.
“At the end of gymnastic drill, which had been witnessed and much
applauded by the fair, an old gentleman advanced to Templeton, and
presented a bouquet.
“This was nothing unusual, for the ladies seemed to take delight in
pelting flowers at us as we filed past them. But, as he took the
nosegay from the old man, Templeton perceived a young girl laughing
and blushing among a knot of her schoolmates, who were apparently
joking her.
“‘I never saw her before; she is very pretty. I will make her
acquaintance if I break my neck over it,’ thought Tom.
“Templeton went into town that evening, and returned to his rooms
very late.
“He was musing in his chair at the window, gazing at the moon, and
puffing out volumes of cigar smoke.
“In a week the gay fellow seemed to have changed his nature.
“He was thoughtful, absent in manner, and seldom touched his books.
“Instead of trespassing upon the privacy of the president’s gardens
at evening, he was often found strumming a guitar, and singing
snatches from various operas.
“Months passed away, and none could account for his change of manner.
“He was thin, pale, thoughtful, soft in voice and manner, and juniors
whispered one to another that he was ‘heavily in debt;’ ‘the uncle
refused to come up.’
“Others, rather lazy students themselves, would sigh, and say, ‘Just
as I told you; _now_ you see the effect of “Nights with Homer and
Demosthenes!” he is in a galloping consumption!’”
“The lodge-keeper, that terrible portly official with the clanking
keys, who frowned on little boys, and slammed the gates with a
triumphant bang of self-importance; that awful, lace-trimmed
gentleman, and bottomless depository of college secrets, said
nothing, but sighed heavily, stroked his red nose ominously, and
remarked—
“‘Some folks is wise, and some isn’t. I hasn’t been here a matter of
more nor forty year without knowing that much; and if you’re well up
in your Greek you’ll know better nor I can tell yer, _werbum sap._,
as Homer very nicely remarks.’
“And with that, went into his lodge, closed the door, and smoked his
pipe.
“It must be confessed _I did_ wish to know what the matter was with
Tom.
“He had always befriended me since entering college, and usually
informed me of all his affairs.
“But during the past few months his conduct had been so much unlike
his former self that I felt offended and annoyed.
“‘If you are hard pushed, Tom,’ said I, ‘and your uncle refuses, why
not tell me? I can settle all that without so much melancholy and
solitude.’
“I could glean nothing.
“‘Phil, my boy,’ said he, laying his hand on my shoulder, ‘you are
gold—true gold, but—there is nothing the matter with me, I can assure
you; I am only studying hard for my degree—examinations come off in
another month, and then I leave these old walls for ever.’
“‘Templeton has passed!’ said all the juniors, as Tom solemnly strode
through the crowd towards his rooms.
“‘How much for your parchment, Templeton?’
“‘Did they bother you, my boy?’
“‘I hope you floored Old Snuffy,’ said one or another of the students.
“But Tom, the subject of all these remarks, congratulations, and the
like, bowed politely to his schoolmates, and went up to his rooms.
“‘I leave to-morrow, Phil,’ said he, as I shook him by the hand; ‘my
books are all at your service, my boy; you’ll have to pass through
the same unpleasant ordeal yourself next year. If you find any use
for them, I give them with much pleasure. There are no “crammers” or
“coaches” among them; I despise all that sort of thing as much as you
do.’
“‘But why look so sad, Tom? Confound it, man! cheer up! there are
scores within the walls this moment, who would willingly give
thousands for your prizes and parchments. How delighted your uncle
will be!’ said I.
“There was no response.
“He relapsed into his customary silence and thoughtfulness, and
although we both drank heavily that night, not a word escaped him in
his cups.
“Next day, towards evening, we drove together towards the coaching
station, and when on the top of a hill about a mile from the
University buildings, he stopped the vehicle and looked towards them
in silence and with evident emotion.
“‘How beautifully the sun sets in the west, and how charming the
old grounds look bathed in sunlight. See how the steeple casts
its shadows across the grand walks, and how the clock-tower and
weather-vane glow again with changing light! I never loved but once,
Phil, and that was once too often for my own peace through life, yet
the memories of Alma Mater, with its dingy walls, old towers, and
chiming bells, unmans me more than all things else in the world!’
GIVEN AWAY!!
SCENES,
SHEETS OF CHARACTERS,
AND A
LARGE STAGE FRONT FOR A NEW PLAY,
CALLED
“ALONE IN THE PIRATES’ LAIR.”
_READ THE “BOYS OF ENGLAND,”_
AND
SECURE THE ABOVE MAGNIFICENT GIFTS.
ONE PENNY WEEKLY.
[Illustration: Lady posing]
“He whipped up the horses suddenly into a brisk trot, and was silent.
“He pressed his hat over his eyes, and averted his face; for once in
years of my remembrance, two tears were glistening in his eyes.
“It must have been a fearful struggle between his pride and secret
sorrows, to have allowed them to escape; yet there they were, shining
witnesses of human feeling.
“We parted.
“Templeton went into the north, and for six months corresponded with
me.
“In answer to enquiries, he stated that he was not at his uncle’s,
but in York.
“I judged, from the tone of his last note, that he was sick and
pressed for means.
“I wrote to him again, but received no answer. A friend of mine was
directed to visit him and let him have what money he desired.
“But he had removed his lodgings, and was nowhere to be found.
“There seemed to hang some mystery around Tom Templeton; some thought
he ‘had been crossed in love’ while at college.
“Others said that pecuniary difficulties had involved him.
“Both of these surmises certainly must be incorrect, I thought, for
he disclosed all his secrets to me. If Cupid had been in the case,
some of us would have known it; as to money matters, all the college
said his uncle was immensely wealthy, and intended to leave him
everything.
“Mystery there seemed to be of some kind, and I was determined, upon
graduating, to sift the matter to the bottom.
“I liked Tom as a brother; his troubles were mine, and, if in
difficulty, I was willing to see him through it safely.
“When university dons had granted me my parchment with ‘A.M.’
engraved thereon, I returned home, and was soon engaged in my
father’s extensive transactions, doing what people might term a
‘roaring’ business.
“My thoughts would occasionally revert to my lost friend, and while
going homeward one evening at dusk, a poorly dressed stranger
hurriedly passed me and glided into a back street, as if ashamed to
be seen in lighted and thronged thoroughfares.
“I followed him.
“He strode through the streets at a rapid pace, but, by a side glance
I got of him, there could be no doubt but that it was the same Tom
Templeton of my school days.
“He had not gone far, when he entered a small, obscure house, and, in
less than ten minutes, emerged again, but so differently attired and
so gay, I could scarce have recognised him.
“Yet on his countenance was still the same calm, pale, melancholy.
“He actually stopped at the same house I was going to, and was
admitted.
“What was his business there, I wondered to know.
“I knew what mine was, namely, to make love to the daughter of a very
rich man my father had known for years.
“I did not knock at the door, but let myself in with a latch-key.
“When I quietly advanced towards the parlour door, I perceived Tom
Templeton on his knees before the idol of my heart!
“What startled me more, was, the lady fair listened to his fair
speeches, and returned his advances.
“For the first time in my life, I felt envy, malice, and revenge.
“I said nothing at the time, but I met my old schoolmate afterwards.
“A violent quarrel ensued.
“I accused him of all manner of misdemeanours, and last of all of
ingratitude.
“But all I could do or say would not provoke him into a challenge.
“At last I gave him one myself.
“He accepted it readily, and we met.
“He wished to apologise for all he had done and said.
“I would not accept it.
“I fired.
“He fell down dead.
“I rushed towards him.
“The doctors examined him and tore open his clothes.
“Tom Templeton proved to be a _girl_.
“The astonishment that was now depicted on every countenance was
great indeed.
“This girl had passed through college, and was first and most expert
in everything, and for years lived undetected.”
“But why should a girl have played the part of a lover?” said Captain
Jack.
“She did not play the part of a lover, as you will perceive.
“Some time after this, my old flame was addressed by the son of the
chief die-sinker at the mint.
“I had suspicions for thinking that Tom Templeton (the girl) had a
brother, who personified Miss Templeton.
“This I proved.
“They were used as spies by a band of coiners, and so well could
these two children of the chief coiner counterfeit either male or
female sex, that for years they carried on their traffic in base coin
undetected; for, indeed, my father and many other merchants had often
and often given notes for gold, and it was not until the gold was
tried at the mint that any deception was discovered; but then it was
too late to trace it back through the various merchants’ offices to
the proper persons.
“The reason Tom and her brother were sent to different schools was,
that, they being so highly educated, they might afterwards prove all
the more expert, and less likely to be detected.”
“But what revenge had you?” asked Captain Jack.
“I revealed what I had discovered to the chief of the coiners, and my
silence was bought.”
“And afterwards?”
“Because I did not receive another consideration from them, I
informed.”
“I know you did. But you were too late; the birds had flown.”
“How know you that?” asked Phillip.
“Because I was one of the coiners myself then.”
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
“I am astonished.”
“You will be more so when you hear that the coiners not only now
exist in the south of England, but that through them I heard of
Farmer Bertram’s murder, and tracked you.”
“Impossible!”
“No, it isn’t. Here is a person who will explain all things,” said
Captain Jack, rising and bowing to a thick-set, military-looking man,
who entered.
“Mr. Phillip Redgill, allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine,”
“What name?” asked Phillip, colouring.
“Colonel Blood!” said Captain Jack, with a demon-like sneer.
“Betrayed!” sighed Phillip.
“Yes; why not, you had no more money?” whispered Captain Jack, “so
therefore I have no further use for you. It’s quite a common plan
with detectives.”
Then, addressing Colonel Blood in a different tone, he said,
“I have fulfilled _my_ part of the bargain, Colonel, about the
thirteen gibbets, and I hope—”
“That I will do mine, eh, Captain Jack? Well, you need not fear; your
death warrant shall not be signed yet at all events. But,” casting
his eyes on Phillip, he said, “we have been a long, long time in
tracing out your villanies, young man, for you are very old in crime.
Captain Jack,” he said, pointing to Phillip, “follow me.”
Captain Jack whistled, and, in a moment, three others of his men came
in and escorted Phillip to prison.
As he was going out of the tavern door, who should he see standing
by, but—
Sir Andrew, who grinned like a fiend, and threw up his hands in
Christian horror.
He had not gone far down the street, ere he saw Augustus Fumbleton
and Fanny riding out together.
“This is worse than death,” he thought, and struggled hard to get
free.
But Captain Jack’s hand, like the grip of a vice, was upon his throat.