The Lonely Watcher.—Gray’s Cunning.—The Cupboard on the Stairs.
Notwithstanding the search which Sir Francis Hartleton had made—a
search that satisfied him that Ada had been removed from Forest’s house
by the cunning of Gray—he could not divest himself of the idea that one
or both might return to the old mansion, if for no other purpose than
to remove some of the articles, which in the course of his researches
he had found in various closets and cupboards, into which they had been
hastily thrust by Jacob Gray.
In case such a thing should be, after some consideration, he resolved
to have one of his men there for several days, and he accordingly
turned to him who had been guarding the door, and said,—
“Elias, you must remain here for a few days.”
“Here, Sir Francis? In this old house, your worship?”
“Yes, here in this old house, Elias. You are strong, fearless, and well
armed. Arrest any one who comes here.”
“Yes,” said Elias, looking about him, not over well pleased with his
commission, as it did not promise much comfort or sprightly company—two
things that Elias was rather partial to.
“I expect a thin, sallow man,” continued sir Francis, “to come here, of
a pale and anxious cast of countenance. Arrest him by all means.”
“Yes, your worship.”
“And should a young girl come with him, or by herself, mind, Elias, she
is a lady, and take care you treat her respectfully.”
“A lady!” ejaculated Elias, with astonishment. “Your worship, is she a
real lady, or like Moll Flaherty?”
“Pshaw!” cried Sir Francis. “Treat her, I say, with respect, and bring
her to me.”
“Oh! Bring her to your worship—oh!”
“Now you have your instructions. It’s warm, so you can do without a
fire and it’s light, and smoke would scare away the people I wish to
come. When you sleep, Elias, shut your door lightly, so that you may
hear if any one comes. Upon consideration, however, you had better sit
up all night, and sleep a little in the day time, for those that I seek
are not likely to venture across the fields, lest they should be seen.”
“Your worship’s unkimmon considerate, and very kind,” muttered Elias.
“You have your lantern, Elias?”
“Yes, your worship, and lots of little wax ends put in it.”
“Very well. Now, good day. Keep a good watch, Elias—and, do you hear?
There’s fifty pounds reward for either the man or the girl.”
“Fifty!”
“Yes, from me; so you know you are sure of it if you earn it.”
“Oh!” cried Elias, looking round, him, with a very different
expression, upon the old house. “It’s a very comfortable place, indeed,
your worship.”
“By-the-by,” said Sir Francis, “I forgot one thing—the girl may come in
boy’s clothing.”
“Oh, the dear!” said Elias.
“So, if what you think a boy comes, you may assume that that’s the
girl.”
“The pretty cretur!” exclaimed Elias. “Fifty pounds! Bless her.”
The magistrate then reflected a moment, and not recollecting anything
else that it was necessary to impress upon the sensitive mind of Elias,
he was turning away from the door, when that gentleman himself suddenly
thought of something of the very greatest importance in his eyes.
“Your worship,” he said, “my victuals—my victuals, your worship.”
“What?” said Sir Francis.
“Am I to be starved, your worship? How am I to get my victuals?”
Sir Francis smiled, as he replied,—
“I should not have forgotten you. You must do the best you can till
sunset, when I will send Stephy to you with plenty to last you.”
“Well,” exclaimed Elias, “it is a mercy that I tucked in a tolerable
breakfast.”
Sir Francis now left the house with his other companions, and Elias,
who was remarkable for his size and great personal strength, closed the
door, and began to bethink how he should amuse the leisure hours until
sunset, when the welcome provisions should arrive; after which time he
did not contemplate that the time would hang at all heavily upon his
hands.
In the meanwhile Jacob Gray remained in the vault, threatening Ada,
until he thought all danger must be past, from the extreme quiet that
reigned in the house. Not the most distant notion of Sir Francis
Hartleton’s leaving any one behind him to keep watch in the lonely
mansion, occurred to Jacob Gray, and after half an hour, as he guessed,
had very nearly passed away, he began to breathe a little more freely,
and to congratulate himself that for that time at least the danger had
blown over his head.
During that half hour he made a determination to leave the house, and
for the short time now that he would stay in England—for he was
thoroughly scared, and resolved to be off very soon—he would take some
lodging for himself and Ada, at the same time binding her by a solemn
promise, as before, not to leave him, which promise he would now render
less irksome to her, by representing that in a short time she should be
quite free to act as she pleased, as well as knowing everything that
might concern her or her future fortunes.
With this idea, and believing the danger past, he spoke in a more
unembarrassed tone to Ada.
“Ada,” he said, “be not deceived—the voice you heard calling upon you
was not that of Sir Francis Hartleton. That name was assumed merely to
deceive you to your destruction. You, as well as I, have escaped a
great danger—so great a danger, that I shall hasten my departure from
England, and you may rest assured now that within one month of time you
will be rich and free.”
“Indeed!” said Ada, incredulously.
“You may believe me,” said Gray; “on my faith, what I say is true.”
“’Tis hard to believe him who would murder one moment, and promise
wealth and freedom the next.”
“I was forced to threaten your life, Ada, for my own, as I tell you,
hung upon a thread; you will not repent this day’s proceedings when you
are happy with him you love, and surrounded by luxury.”
Ada started; and had there been light enough in that dismal place. Gray
would have seen the mantling flash of colour that visited the cheek of
the persecuted girl, as the words he spoke conjured up a dream of
happiness to her imagination, that she felt would indeed pay her for
all she had suffered—ay, were it ten times more. She did not speak, for
she would not let Jacob Gray guess, from the agitation of her voice,
the effect that his words had produced, and after a pause he said to
her,—
“Remain here while I go into the house and see that all is safe. They
must be gone by this time, Jacob Gray has foiled them once again, but
he will not incur the danger a third time, I assure you. Ada, as I live
and breathe your thraldom shall not—cannot last another month.”
He ascended the ladder as he spoke, and after listening attentively and
hearing nothing, he slid open the panel and looked into the room. All
was still, and the glorious bright sunshine was streaming in upon the
dingy walls and blackened floor.
Again Gray listened—all was still, and he got through the opening with
a lurking smile of gratified cunning upon his face. He, however, could
not forget his habitual caution, and it was with a slinking, cat-like
movement that he walked along the floor of the room.
He intended to walk through the entire house, to see if his unwelcome
visitors had left behind them any traces of their presence. Opening the
door of the room, very carefully, he began to descend the stairs; he
muttered to himself as he went,—
“’Twas an hour of great danger, I have been saved by what good and
pious people would call a miracle, had it happened to them, but I
suppose it’s merely an accident in Jacob Gray’s case; well, well, be it
so—accident or miracle, ’tis all the same to me; and I am not sorry
too, to leave this old house: it has grown hateful and loathsome to me.
I would not pass such another night in it as I have passed for—for—much
money. No, no—it would indeed require a heap of gold to tempt me.”
Now he reached the door of a large cupboard on the staircase, which was
wide open, as Sir Francis and his men had left it in the course of
their search.
“So,” sneered Gray, “they have looked for me in the cupboards, have
they? Well, the keener the search has been, the better; it is less
likely to be renewed, far less likely. I wish I could think of any plan
of vengeance upon this magistrate, for the misery he has caused me; oh,
if I could inflict upon him but one tithe of the agony he has made me
suffer within the last hour, I should be much rejoiced. Curses on
him—curses on him and his efficiency as a magistrate: a meddling cursed
fiend he is to me—I must think, Master Hartleton; some little plan of
revenge upon you may suggest itself to me by-and-by?“
Jacob Gray rubbed his hands together, and gave a sickly smile, as he
said this. He was about the middle of the staircase, and it was
fortunate for him he had his hands on the banisters, or in the intense
horror and surprise that suddenly overcame him, he might have fallen
down the remaining portion of the crazy stairs.
He heard a door open, leading into the passage, from one of the lower
rooms, and a heavy careless step rapidly approached the staircase,
while a common street melody, whistled with a shrillness and
distinctness that was more horrible to Jacob Gray than would have been
the trumpet of the angel at the day of judgment, fell upon his ears.
Jacob Gray gave himself up for lost. The blood rushed to his heart with
frightful violence, and he thought he should have fainted. How he
accomplished the feat he afterwards knew not, but he stepped back. Two
paces brought him to the cupboard. It seemed like the door of heaven
opened to him. He doubled himself up under a large shelf that went
across the middle of it; and clutching the door by a small rim of the
panelling, he drew it close.
Mr. Elias, with his hands in his pockets, and whistling the before
mentioned popular melody, passed on up the staircase, leaving Jacob
Gray almost distilled to a jelly with fear.
Then, when he had passed, Gray thought at first that his best plan
would be to rush down the stairs, open the outer door, and make a rush
across the fields, leaving Ada to her destiny—but this was hazardous—he
would be seen—hunted like a wild beast; and taken! No. That was too
bold a step for Jacob Gray. He listened, with heart and soul, to the
footsteps that sounded so awful in his ears, and the question arose in
his mind, of—should the man, whoever he was, enter the room where he
Jacob Gray, had just left, so heedlessly as he now thought, with the
panel open, or would he pass on? That was a fearful question. He
thought he heard him pause once, and his heart sunk within him. No, he
passed on. He was ascending the second flight of stairs leading to the
second story.