MISER FAREBROTHER THREATENS JEREMIAH.
He usually travelled third-class to Beddington, but on this occasion he
took a first-class ticket. To this piece of extravagance he was impelled
by two reasons. He wished to be alone, and the first-class carriages
were nearly always empty at this time of the day. Then, in the position
in which he found himself--brought about partly by his own folly, but
chiefly by the treachery of Captain Ablewhite--it mattered little how
much he spent. What were pounds, shillings, and pence in comparison with
his safety? He had worked himself into the belief that not only his
liberty, but his life, was in peril.
The three first-class carriages in the train were unoccupied, and he got
into one, and closed the door. No other passenger entered the carriage,
and he travelled to Parksides alone.
He read again the newspaper article upon the diamond bracelet, and his
feelings became more bitter and revengeful. The visions which had
haunted him in Miser Farebrother's office reappeared. The words he was
reading were printed in letters of blood; his eyes became blurred, and
he wiped them with his handkerchief. The blood-shadows were on the
handkerchief as he looked at it; the stains spread to his hands, as
though they had just been employed upon a ruthless deed; the compartment
in which he sat was throbbing with a silent life and death struggle,
from which he emerged triumphant and free.
He was aroused by the stopping of the train at Beddington. He jumped
out, with the account-books in his hands, and gazed defiantly around. No
one challenged or accosted him, and he walked through the village toward
Parksides. He heard a voice calling to him:
"Jeremiah! Jeremiah!"
The currents of his blood seemed to be suddenly arrested. Was he so soon
discovered? Were they after him already?
"Jeremiah! Jeremiah!"
His mother, panting, laid her hand upon his shoulder. He shook her off
violently, and was about to fly when he recognized her.
"How fast you walk, Jeremiah!" He glared at her, and raised his hand
with the intention of striking her, but she caught his arm and prevented
him.
"Well, then!" he said, suddenly. "What do you come running after a
fellow like that for? Just as if--" He did not finish the sentence.
"Just as if what, Jeremiah?" asked Mrs. Pamflett.
"Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies," he replied. "How is it that
you're here instead of at Parksides?"
"Miser Farebrother sent me with a message to the telegraph office."
"A telegram!" he cried, all his fears reviving. "To whom?"
"To you, telling you to come here without a moment's delay."
"Oh, the old thief wants me?"
"He wants you badly, Jeremiah!"
"Does he? Was there nothing else in the telegram except that I was to
come here without a moment's delay?"
"You were to bring the account-books."
"I have them, you see. Was the old thief in a good humour?"
"Jeremiah, I was listening outside his room, and I heard him limping up
and down, muttering to himself. I didn't catch what he was saying, but
he was in a desperate temper. Yet when he rang his bell, and I answered
it, he was sitting at the writing-table, with the sweetest smile on his
face, and his voice was like honey. 'Take this to the telegraph office,'
he said, giving me the message; and he asked me how you were getting on,
and whether you were saving money, and whether I had saved any. I told
him I had a little--"
"How much?" asked Jeremiah, interrupting her.
"I didn't tell him that, Jeremiah."
"Of course you didn't; but _I_ want to know."
"I have got more than a hundred pounds, Jeremiah."
"So--you've been saving up secretly, unbeknown to me!"
"It was done for your good, Jeremiah; it is all for you. Women are not
as strong as men, nor as bold and venturesome, but they see further
sometimes. 'Perhaps,' I thought to myself, 'one day Jeremiah may want a
little help; there may be something he wishes to do and is just a little
short. Then I will give him my savings, and he will praise me for my
prudence and foresight."
"I praise you now, mother," said Jeremiah. "Can you lay your hands on
the money? Is it in your room?"
"No, Jeremiah; it is in the Post-office Savings-bank."
"Curse it! You can't get it out to-day. What's the good of it when I
want it now--this very minute?"
"What for, Jeremiah?"
"That's my business. Go on about the old thief. He pretended to be very
sweet, did he, and tried to pump you? What's that?"
He clutched his mother, shaking like one in an ague. They were in a
narrow lane, and a boy in their rear had uttered a loud shout, and had
thrown a stone at a bird. The boy ran on, and the colour returned to
Jeremiah's face.
"Jeremiah!" whispered Mrs. Pamflett.
"Well?"
"You have been doing something wrong. You are in trouble."
"Yes, I am in trouble. I have been robbed--swindled--tricked and ruined
by a damned scoundrel. If I had him here now, in this quiet lane, with
no one near, his life wouldn't be worth a moment's purchase. There, the
murder's out! What did I say?"
"You said, 'the murder's out.'"
"Did I?" he exclaimed, with a nervous laugh. "Murder, eh? Well, if it's
my life against another man's--"
"Is it as bad as that, Jeremiah?"
"It is. I am in a fearful hole, and I must get out of it. Look here,
mother. Ever since I was born you've been drumming in my ears that you
cared for nothing in the world but me, that you lived only for me, that
you loved no one but me, that you would do anything for me--never mind
what--anything, anything! Is it true, or a lie?"
"It is true, Jeremiah," said Mrs. Pamflett, her thin lips set, but
slightly parted, and her eyes glittering like cold steel. "If you're in
danger, you must get out of it. If I can help you to get out of it, you
have only to show me the way. You don't know what a woman like me--what
a mother like me--is capable of. I will show you. A scoundrel has ruined
you, and something must be done to save you. I understand; I understand.
Whatever it is, if it is for me to do it, I am ready. I have never
spoken one false word to you, and I won't say one word to you now to
reproach you for not having confided in me before to-day. If you had
made your fortune I was to share it. You are in trouble now, and I will
share it. Give me a kiss, and say you love me!"
"I should be a beast if I didn't," said Jeremiah, kissing her. "You're
something like a mother!"
"Jeremiah, if that venomous wretch Phoebe Farebrother had married you,
would you be in danger now?"
"No; there would be nothing to trouble me if she hadn't rounded on me. I
shouldn't have been compelled to do what I have done."
"Ah! She called you a reptile, and I am your mother. Oh, to be even with
her--to be even with her!"
Half an hour afterward Jeremiah Pamflett was in the presence of Miser
Farebrother. The miser received his managing clerk with more than
graciousness; there was even cordiality in his manner, and had
Jeremiah's usually clear mind not been unbalanced by the threatening
clouds which hung above him, this apparently favourable demeanour would
have rendered him suspicious, and put him on his guard. Experience had
taught him that there was always mischief in the wind when Miser
Farebrother's words were smooth and fair.
"I sent a telegram for you, Jeremiah," said Miser Farebrother.
"Yes, sir," said Jeremiah; "my mother told me so. Fortunately I was on
my way to you."
"You have brought the books with you?"
"Here they are, sir."
"You anticipate my wishes, Jeremiah. What master was ever served as I am
served by you--so conscientiously, so faithfully! Is the bank-book here?
Yes, yes; I see it is. We will go into the accounts presently. Before I
sent for you, Jeremiah, I was in great pain, and feared I had not long
to live. That kind of feeling makes a man sad--it unsettles him, and he
is apt to repine at the hard fate which seems determined to snatch him
from all the joys of life. I have not had many of them, and the
consolation I had looked forward to in your contemplated union with my
ungrateful child has been denied me. You look tired, Jeremiah. Doubtless
you have been up late at night, attending to correspondence connected
with the business, and running through the accounts."
"I have been working very hard," said Jeremiah.
"That is it. When I did the work myself I also used to sit up night
after night poring over the books. An anxious mind, Jeremiah--an anxious
mind. And you resemble me--oh, how you resemble me! What does a late
night now and then matter to the young and strong? They can bear it; it
leaves no ill effects behind. _I_ could bear it once; _I_ was once young
and strong as you are; _I_ was once filled with hope and enthusiasm. And
now, look at me. I am a wreck, a feeble wreck, scarcely able to contend
with an infant. My strength gone, my hope and enthusiasm gone, my
confidence gone in every being in the world with the exception of you
and your mother. No reward can be too great for service so faithful! You
are affected. I thank you, Jeremiah--I thank you! That sympathizing
look, those genuine tears, testify to the friendship you bear toward
me."
In point of fact, Jeremiah had taken his handkerchief from his pocket
and had dabbed his forehead with it, and it was this action which Miser
Farebrother chose to construe into an exhibition of sympathy. Jeremiah's
face was damp with perspiration; he was bewildered by the flow of words
which fell like honey from the miser's lips; bewildered also by the
presence of the master he had wronged and robbed, of the man who held
his fate in his hands. Lying back in his chair, Miser Farebrother seemed
to have scarcely an hour's life in him; his strength seemed to be ebbing
away, and death to be fast approaching. What if he were to die there,
within the hour, while Jeremiah was in the room? Then all would be well.
He could obtain possession of the valueless bracelet; he could obtain
possession of the hoards of money which Miser Farebrother had put in
some secret place, which, the miser dead, Jeremiah and his mother would
have little difficulty in finding. Yes; then all would be well. Before
he had presented himself to his master, he had confided to his mother
all the particulars of the danger which threatened him, and they had
debated what had best be done. His mother had said, "If Miser
Farebrother were out of the way," and then had paused. If Miser
Farebrother were out of the way! That is, if he were dead! Yes; if he
were dead! "What then?" Jeremiah had asked, after a terrible silence,
during which their minds were threading labyrinths of awful
possibilities of action which would extricate Jeremiah from his peril.
"What then, mother?" Jeremiah had asked. "Why, then," his mother had
replied, "we could get the bracelet, and would find a means to restore
it immediately to the lady from whom it had been stolen. It would have
to be done carefully and secretly; it would be necessary that we should
not be seen or suspected in the matter. The bracelet restored, the lady
would have nothing to complain of. She has not been robbed of money;
only we and the old man upstairs know where the money came from which
was lent upon the bracelet, and only we should be the losers."
"We could get his hidden treasure as well, mother," Jeremiah had said.
"No one but ourselves knows of that. If it were necessary, we could
leave England for a time." But this suggestion had been stoutly opposed
by Mrs. Pamflett. "It would never do," she had said. "Our disappearance
would draw instant suspicion upon us. We have managed for him so many
years--I here in Parksides, you in the London office. No, Jeremiah; we
must stop and brave it out. I am certain there would be very little to
fear, and that neither the policeman nor the cabman would be able to
identify you. Besides, the bracelet restored, there would be no charge.
The lady's maid stole it, not you, and she will not come back. She is in
sure hiding, and so is that monster Captain Ablewhite. You would be
safe, Jeremiah--you would be safe." And then she repeated, "If Miser
Farebrother were out of the way!" Already their dark thoughts had
compassed the result. The means had not been mentioned or discussed, but
they were ready for any expedient, however desperate which would bring
it about and remove the threatened danger. Mrs. Pamflett, to insure her
son's safety, was prepared for any risk to herself, for any sacrifice.
And here, sitting within a few inches of Jeremiah, was the man whose
death meant life and liberty for him--was the man who could make a felon
of him, who could ruin him absolutely and for ever and ever! "If he were
to die now in his chair!" thought Jeremiah. Then came the thought that
Miser Farebrother was an old man, weak and nerveless, and that two
strong hands around his neck would squeeze the life out of him in a very
few moments. It would be soon over, and there would be an end to the
tortures Jeremiah was suffering. Meanwhile Miser Farebrother was
speaking again.
"Were those the office keys jingling in your pocket, Jeremiah, when you
took out your handkerchief? Let me see them; it may be the last
opportunity I shall have of handling the old friends. Yes, here they
are, all on a single ring--the key of the office door, the key of the
room in which you sleep, the keys of the safe and the deed and cash
boxes. All here, all here! Have you duplicates of them? No! Then without
these keys you could not enter the office, you could not open the safe?
Come, old friends, into _my_ drawer you go--and you are safely locked
there, and the key in my pocket!"
And now, to Jeremiah's astonishment and consternation, Miser Farebrother
rose to his feet and stood upright before his knavish clerk. All his
apparent weakness had disappeared; his face was flushed with anger; in
his eyes there was a look of stern resolution.
"I summoned you here," he said, and his firm voice struck terror to
Jeremiah's heart, "to obtain not only an explanation but satisfaction
from you. Doubtless you have read this."
He held out to Jeremiah the newspaper containing the account of the
robbery of the diamond bracelet. Mechanically Jeremiah took the paper;
but he did not look further than the heading: "A Strange Affair--The
Biters Bit."
"Answer me," said the miser. "Have you read it?"
"No," faltered Jeremiah.
"How do you know you have not read it when you have scarcely glanced at
the paper I have given you? That you lie is proved by your side pocket,
which would not bulge out as it does if it did not contain a copy of
this damnable strange affair, by which you have swindled me out of four
thousand pounds."
"I did not swindle you," Jeremiah found courage to say. "I believed the
diamonds were genuine."
"You lie again, and you will continue to lie. But it will not help you.
I will have my money back! Do you hear, you thief?--I will have my money
back, which you and your confederates have shared between you! I will
not wait long for it. Before twelve o'clock to-morrow you shall count it
out to me on this table. If you do not, you shall stand in the felon's
dock. All your cunning shall not save you. I am a fool to give you one
moment's grace. You thief! you scoundrel! you swindler! I will have my
money! my money! my money! Have I not toiled for it all my life?--and
now to find myself robbed by a scoundrel I snatched from the gutter! If
you don't pay me what you have stolen from me I will so pursue you that
your life shall be a slow torture. You shall wish you were dead; but you
shall live to suffer. At least I will have revenge, and I will pay for
it. I will have your heart's blood, to the last drop! My money! my
money! my money!"
His passion exhausted him, and he was compelled to stop. His torrent of
furious words had, in the first instance, overwhelmed Jeremiah with
despair; but as the miser went on, this feeling was gradually replaced
by one of fierce malignity. He grew cooler every moment.
"Do you wish to know why I wanted the books?" continued Miser
Farebrother. "I will tell you. To-morrow they will be placed in the
hands of an accountant, who shall go through them and examine them, and
who will tell me the full extent of your robberies; for my eyes are
opened now. I have been blind! blind! This swindle of the bracelet is
not your only theft; there are others, and I will have them ferreted
out, and you shall repay me to the last farthing. You thief! you have
fattened upon the money you have stolen from me--you have grown rich by
your knavery! Well, I will beggar you--every shilling you possess is
mine, and I will have it. I leave it to you to judge whether I am in
earnest or not, and whether I will do what I have threatened. Do you
wish to know why I wanted the keys of the office and the safe? I will
tell you. It is that you shall never again enter my doors--it is that it
shall be out of your power to destroy the evidences of your guilt which
are to be found there. Till twelve to-morrow--not one moment longer!
Then, when restitution is made--full, complete restitution--you and your
cat-mother shall pack, the pair of you! I will fling you both into the
gutter, and if you rot and die there, so much the better! I will look
down upon you and laugh. Is what I say plain enough?"
"Quite," replied Jeremiah, in whose heart now reigned a cold, ferocious
cunning; but his voice was very humble. "You force me to confess."
"I thought I should succeed in that, at least. But no confessions will
satisfy me without my money, you vile, ungrateful thief! My money! Do
you hear?--my money!
"You shall have it; you shall not lose one farthing by me."
"Good! good! You are rich, then? You have robbed me systematically! You
villainous knave!"
"I am not rich. I have saved a little, and I have friends who will
assist me in the misfortune which has overtaken me. I have not robbed
you systematically; you do me an injustice, as you will learn when the
accountant has gone through the books. I court inquiry--I invite it--I
_will_ have it, now that you have accused me, and I will compel you to
admit that I have served you faithfully. My character is dear to me, and
I will not allow you to cast suspicion upon it. As for the bracelet, I
_did_ believe that the stones were genuine; and if they _were_ genuine
they would have been worth ten times the sum you lent on them. I laugh
at the public exposure with which you threaten me. Me it cannot harm;
you, it can. For, after all, I am only your servant; you are the
principal. That the business of the bracelet was introduced to me by a
man whose character will not bear investigation is true. I did not know
this at the time; but what if I did? He did not ask _me_ to lend him the
money, he asked me to apply to _you_. Is it the first questionable
transaction you have been mixed up in? Perhaps I could give evidence on
that point. It is pretty well known that Miser Farebrother would do
anything for money; if he could sell his soul for it he would not
hesitate long. You mustn't mind my speaking in this way; I have nothing
to fear, and I am defending myself."
Miser Farebrother was not in the least discomposed by Jeremiah's
defence of himself. "Words, Jeremiah, words!" he said, with a sneering
laugh. "Are you a fool as well as a rogue? What you have said is as so
much air, and will not save you from the felon's fate. In everything I
have done the law is on my side; I have seen to that. As to what is
between us, let matters be settled quickly. You have saved a little, you
say; you have friends who will assist you. Good! By noon to-morrow pay
me the money you induced me to advance upon the bracelet. If this is not
done, at one o'clock I will place it in the hands of the police, with a
faithful description of the manner in which it came into my possession.
The police are looking for you, you shallow knave, and I will set them
on your track. Then see if you can save yourself. The office accounts
will come afterward. If you have stolen, you shall repay--with interest,
you thief!"
"I will not use abusive words in return," said Jeremiah. "There is
nothing for which I am to blame, except the bracelet, and I was an
innocent victim. You have it, of course?"
"Trust me for that," replied Miser Farebrother; "I have it safe enough.
Do you think I have been simple enough to part with it?"
"Well, give it to me," said Jeremiah, "and before twelve to-morrow
morning I will return you the money you advanced on it."
Miser Farebrother burst out into a loud laugh. "Give it to you,
Jeremiah, and simply for the asking! You miserable knave, do you think I
am in my second childhood? No, Jeremiah, no! When you give me back my
money you shall have it--not till then. Fail in this restitution, and
you have but a few hours of freedom before you. By my blood! by my life!
I will abide by what I say?"
"Then there is an end of it," said Jeremiah, "and it _shall_ be as you
say. I must get back to London to-night so that I may be here in time
to-morrow."
"Be sure you _are_ in time, Jeremiah!"
"I _will_ be sure!" said Jeremiah, and left the room.
The moment he closed the door behind him he felt his mother's hand clasp
his. She led him down the stairs, and Jeremiah, hearing the sound of his
own footsteps, did not wonder that he did not hear hers. It would have
been difficult, she trod so softly, and she had taken off her boots.
She accompanied him like a spirit: not the only one which walked beside
and before him. By his blood! By his life! Miser Farebrother's words.
Well, it might come to that. What other road of escape was left open?
In the kitchen below, Mrs. Pamflett put her forefinger to her lips.
"Speak low, Jeremiah. I listened outside, and heard all. He has the
heart of a devil! That is his gratitude for faithful service. His life
has been in my hands for years past. I could have sent him to his grave
and no one the wiser. I am your cat-mother, am I? And he will fling us
into the gutter, and laugh at us? He and his daughter are a pair. He has
had the best years of our lives, and he spits in our faces. Have you
told me the whole truth, Jeremiah? About the books and the safe--is
there anything against you there? Can he get you into further trouble?"
"Mother," said Jeremiah, "if he calls in an accountant, as he threatens
to do, I am lost. There is no hope of escape for me. If I don't get back
that bracelet, I am lost. And he has money, too, here, hidden away, and
not a soul knows it but him and ourselves."
"Not a soul, Jeremiah."
"No one comes to the house but us?"
"Not a person has been here for a month past."
"But--attend to me, mother--there comes here to-night, late, a man to
see Miser Farebrother. It might be!"
"It might be," his mother echoed, gazing at her son with a fierce
expectancy in her eyes.
"This man has been here frequently before; he has been in the habit of
coming once in every six or seven weeks, and Miser Farebrother expects
and receives him. They talk in secret in Miser Farebrother's room, with
the door locked. You are never admitted. You are sent to bed, and
sometimes you have awoke in the middle of the night, and have heard
sounds in the miser's room, which proved that the man was still there.
You never knew at what hour he went away, but it must have been nearly
always not earlier than two or three in the morning. It might be!"
"It might be."
"That he came upon business is a reasonable construction, and that this
business was of a nature which would not bear the light is another
reasonable construction. Once, passing the miser's room on the way to
your own, you heard them quarrelling and you heard the miser say, 'I
have but to lift my finger, and I could send you back to the hulks! I
will give you twenty pounds for the bonds, and no more.' A reasonable
story, mother?"
"Perfectly reasonable, Jeremiah. Living here in seclusion as he has done
for so many years, with no servant but me, who is to dispute it? That is
not the end, Jeremiah."
"That is not the end. To-night, late, the man comes again, and is
admitted. You go to bed as usual, and leave them together as usual.
To-morrow morning you get up, and wait for Miser Farebrother to ring his
bell for breakfast. He does not ring it, mother," and Jeremiah put his
lips close to her ear. "Can you guess the reason why he does not ring
his bell?"
"I can guess the reason, Jeremiah," she replied, in a cold, malignant
voice. "After to-morrow he will never raise his hand again!"
"And I am safe!" said Jeremiah.
"And you are safe, my dear, dear lad; and he is punished as he deserves
to be."
"He has been in the grounds at night very often these last few weeks,
mother?"
"Very often, Jeremiah."
"Whether he dies in the house or out of the house, the story holds
good."
"The story holds good," she echoed.
"You can describe the man's dress and appearance: there is nothing like
being exact in these matters: there are peculiarities about him by which
you will be able to recognise him when he is arrested."
"Leave all that to me, Jeremiah. I will show you what I am capable of.
And you--where will you be in the morning?"
"In the office in London, as usual, having possessed myself of the keys
which he tricked out of me upstairs. Give me a drink of brandy--ah! that
puts life into one! And some bread and meat--no, I cannot eat."
"You must, Jeremiah; you must! It will give you strength. That's right.
Force yourself to eat. Don't drink much. Keep cool for what is to come!
Now go--and keep out of sight. You must not be seen in the village. The
monster upstairs never wanders near the beeches; you will be safe there.
I will come to you in an hour or two."
Stealthily, warily, Jeremiah crept from the house, and proceeded in the
direction indicated by his mother. The sun was setting, and blood was in
the sky. It shone upon the rising ground and upon the topmost branches
of the trees. His eyes did not rest upon the glories of a lovely sunset,
but upon blotches and streaks of blood. Once, standing where he could
not himself be seen, he turned to the house, and watched the blood-red
stains in the windows. Behind the crimson panes lurid shadows moved; the
rooms were alive with murderous shapes and forms engaged in fierce
conflict. Above him and all around him lurked the spirit of murder!