A DIRTY JOB.
Time dragged slowly, Senator Hamblin being ill at ease.
Beholding his daughter's sorrow, and knowing she could not become the
wife of Walter Mannis, he began looking about for some other method to
avert the financial disaster threatening him.
Scarcely a moment passed that he did not reproach himself for the great
wrong he had done. Overwhelmed with horror, and fully realizing that
ambition and selfishness had made him a criminal, he little realized
that he was dealing with men deeper and more desperate than himself.
One night a man left the village of Cleverdale and passed into the
country. He wore a slouched hat pulled well down over his forehead,
while his coat-collar was turned up about his neck. The night was dark
and cloudy, so the pedestrian was scarcely observed by any one; but
when he met an acquaintance, he pulled his hat further over his brow,
and passed unrecognized. Under his left arm he carried a large bundle,
his right hand holding fast a heavy cane, which he used to pick out his
pathway.
It was not long before, passing beyond the corporate limits of the
village, his feet were treading the highway leading toward Havelock. As
he kept on his way he heard the noise of an approaching carriage. The
dense clouds overhead made the night so dark that teams were compelled
to move slowly, and as the mysterious pedestrian neared the carriage he
coughed three times; a low whistle assured him his signal was heard.
The single individual in the vehicle cried out, "Whoa!" the man on foot
approached and jumped in. The team turned and headed toward Havelock,
and the horses were driven faster than was compatible with safety.
One hour later the vehicle entered a piece of dense woods. The driver,
dismounting, seized the horses by the head and led them on, through a
narrow roadway or lane, for a distance of at least a quarter of a mile.
When he stopped the man in the carriage jumped to the ground, and the
two stood side by side. The driver then reached beneath the seat of the
carriage, and drew forth a dark lantern, a pickaxe, two shovels, a hoe,
a coil of rope, and two long queer-looking hooks with wooden handles. As
he passed his hand under the seat, a noise was heard similar to the wail
of a cat.
Both men were disguised, and as they continued their work conversed in
low tones. Gathering up their tools and moving along at a rapid pace
for about five hundred feet, they stopped at the edge of the forest
and scaled a high picket fence. White slabs of marble, tall columns of
the same material, and large granite monuments rose before them like
spectres, grim and lonely.
A ghost-like stillness pervaded the scene, for the two men were in a
city of the dead, surrounded on all sides by its silent habitations.
"Follow me--it is only a short distance away. Come," said the taller of
the two, who led on, his companion following.
The two men paused at the side of a newly made mound, and laying down
their tools, pulled off their overcoats and prepared for work. As they
threw aside their disguises the reader would at once have recognized the
two men as Hon. Walter Mannis and Sargent, the teller.
"Here is the grave," said Mannis. "And we must commence our work
at once. This man was buried last Sunday, and in size and personal
appearance looks much like Alden. Let us hurry up and snake him
out--come, take that pick and loosen the earth. Eh? what's that?
S--h--h--h! Pshaw! it's only a twig which broke beneath your feet."
"This is rather serious business, Mannis. Give me a pull from that
bottle. There--that tastes good, and it will nerve a fellow up."
"Yes, we need a little backbone--be careful and do not make much noise,
for we are within a quarter mile of the road, and there is danger of
being discovered. Here--hand me that spade. The earth is not very solid,
for I can easily run this spade down a foot or two."
"This pick goes in as easy," said Sargent, "as if it were cutting
cheese. Wonder where Alden is now? Ha! ha! wouldn't he make Rome howl
if he knew what we were doing? But, d--n him! he always looked upon me
as if I was a scoundrel; now I'll be even with him. There, how is that?
Hand me that other spade."
Mannis, doing as requested, said:
"Be careful, Sargent, and throw the dirt where the grave-digger pitched
it. So the old man weakened, eh?--if he knew that you pocketed his
letter he would be apt to send you adrift. His pretty daughter is his
pride, his very life--Ah, Sargent, she is a darling, and I feel rather
sorry for her, for she will cry her pretty eyes out upon learning George
Alden will never return. Careful, Sargent; the earth is falling back
into the grave. Here, take another drink; egad! a little good spirits is
required to keep the evil spirits away. I don't just like this job; but
virtue will have its reward, and such patterns as you and I will not be
forgotten, eh?"--and both men laughed, as the devil also must have done
if he was present, as probably he was.
For a full half-hour they toiled on, until they stood at least three
feet deep in the grave. Slowly the mound of earth rose about them and
the scene became animated. In the distance was heard the rumbling of
thunder, the dark clouds overhead becoming blacker and more dense,
while the men, unaccustomed to manual labor, paused at intervals to
rest. Nearer and nearer they came to the box and its occupant, until at
last Sargent's spade struck the wood, sending back a dull, hollow thud,
startling both men.
"Gracious, Sargent! that frightened me, it came so sudden; but it will
not be long before we shall have this ugly business finished."
"It startled me too. This is a pretty tough job, Mannis."
"That's so; but remember it will make you cashier of the bank."
"Yes, that will pay--but see here, Mannis, it's mighty slippery business
after all."
"We have no time to discuss the matter now--come, let's to work; ten
minutes of lively shovelling will have the box clean as a whistle."
Both men resumed their labor, shovelful after shovelful of dirt was
thrown up on top of the mound already formed, until they stood upon the
cover of the box.
"Lay the shovels outside, Sargent, and take another drink. There, that
will set you up. Here's at you!" and he turned the bottle and drank deep
from its throat.
Taking a screw-driver from his pocket, and turning the rays of his
dark lantern into the grave, Mannis began removing the screws from the
cover. It was but the work of a few moments, when, the cover carefully
laid outside the grave, the screw-driver began its work on the lid of
the coffin. As the corpse was exposed to view, Mannis touched its cold,
clammy face. A thrill of horror went through his frame, causing him to
start and step heavily upon Sargent's toes, their owner standing behind
him on the lower part of the coffin-lid.
Both men expressed their abhorrence of the scene, and an outsider
looking upon the body-snatchers would have beheld three death-like
countenances instead of one.
"Here, Sargent, stick that hook into the clothing. Now wait a moment
until I get the other hook into this side; there--steady now! Can you
take hold of both hooks? There, don't drop him, and I will fasten this
rope about his breast. Now if you can hold on a moment, I will get out
and hang to him with the rope."
Nimble as a cat, Mannis sprang from the grave.
"Now pull out the hooks, and come and help me."
Sargent did not wait for a second summons, for his hair already stood on
end at the thought of being alone in the grave with the dead man, and he
was at the side of Mannis in an instant. The two men worked hard, and
soon had their horrid prey out on the grass. The coffin-lid was laid
back and the outside cover placed in position, the body-snatchers not
waiting to replace the screws. Quickly they plied their spades, only
stopping to tread down the loose dirt. In twenty minutes the grave was
refilled, the mound rebuilt and the ground cleared up, as it was found.
"Sargent, we have a burden to tug. First, let us take the tools to the
wagon and then return for the cold corpus."
Gathering up their tools and soon placing them beneath the
carriage-seat, the men returned, and taking up the corpse, prepared
to leave the cemetery. When approaching the fence, a sudden flash of
lightning caused them to drop their burden, and the body rolled over
into a hole near by.
"Egad! Mannis, I am sick of this. U-u-g-h! when that flash struck the
face of the corpse it sent a thrill of horror all through me. I wish the
body was in its coffin again."
"You think it rather unpleasant work, eh, Sargent? Well, that's because
you've never been in politics. But we have got over the worst of it.
Let us kick off a picket and push the fellow through the fence."
Suiting the action to the words, he gave a vigorous blow with his
foot, and two pickets flew off. The body was then lifted up and
crowded through the aperture, and ten minutes later the men and their
disagreeable burden reached the carriage.
"It is one o'clock, Sargent," said Mannis, turning the light of his
dark lantern on his watch. "We must hurry up. Get that suit of clothes,
there; spread them out. Now help me strip this fellow. It was mighty
lucky Alden left these clothes in the bank; very kind of him, and I am
much obliged for his thoughtfulness. No one will examine them critically
to see if they are old clothes or not."
"Old clothes! They are not old clothes, it is a suit he wore last year
when he slept in the bank, and he never took them away. This fellow
looks pretty fine in borrowed clothes, eh, Mannis?"
The body was soon dressed; the hardest work experienced was that of
encasing the feet in boots, although the task, after much effort, was
successfully accomplished.
The two men had labored faithfully and their work was soon finished. The
clothes taken from the dead man were buried, the form lifted into the
carriage, the men following, when Mannis turned the horses' heads toward
Cleverdale.
The clouds began discharging flashes of lightning, loud peals of thunder
adding their unpleasantness to the scene, and amid almost impenetrable
darkness the team could not be driven faster than a walk. Presently
great drops of rain spattered into the carriage, striking the occupants
full in the face. After a long, gloomy ride, which neither Mannis nor
Sargent enjoyed, the street lamps of Cleverdale were faintly seen in the
distance.
"Where are we, Sargent? Oh, I see now--that flash showed up the country.
There is the road--let us turn in and plant this chap."
The horses' heads were again turned, and approaching a clump of forest
trees the two men jumped out. The body was taken from the vehicle and
dropped over the fence. Both men then followed, and carrying the body
back some distance, placed it beneath a tree.
"Where is the pistol, Sargent? All right--now I'll put a ball into his
brain."
A sharp report followed, and Mannis had fired through the sightless
eyes, the pistol being held so near as to tear and disfigure the face
past recognition.
"There!" said he. "I guess this will be a good enough Alden until I
marry the girl."
The pistol laid beside the body, the two men hastily left the place.
One hour later, Sargent was in his bed, and as daylight began to dawn,
as naturally as if nothing unusual had happened, Mannis was on his way
toward Havelock.