William Barham was punctual to his hour; but Lieberg made him wait for
fully twenty minutes in an empty room, looking out into the dull back
court of a London house, where there was nothing to amuse his mind
within the chamber or without: not a picture, not a print upon the
walls: not the sight of a chimney, the smoke of which would have given
occupation to the eye: not an odd-looking table, with carved legs: not
anything, in short, on which the energies of the spirit could spend
themselves. The very carpet was in long straight lines of monotonous
colours, and the walls were painted of a blank greyish hue.
The mind, when surrounded by dulness from which it cannot escape, is
like the scorpion when hemmed in by fire, and turns to sting itself.
That room seemed the very abode of gloom and despondency. The windows
were dusty, and admitted but little light; they were not as regularly
opened as they ought to have been, and there was a closeness in the
atmosphere, a smell of desolation, if we may so call it, which made
one feel faint. The grate looked somewhat rusty from neglect, and
there were no fire-irons.
William Barham first walked to a window, and looked out, but nothing
met his eye, except the tall, unpleasant, dingy brick wall of an
opposite house, without a single casement looking that way. He then
turned, and gazed round the room. It was all cheerless and dull. His
eye found nothing on which it could rest. It was empty and gloomy as a
heart that has been bereaved of the object of its love. He tried the
window again, and then let his eye run over the walls of the room; but
all was dark and sad. There was not even a Greek border on the broad
expanse of dull, grey painted stucco, with which the mind might form a
labyrinth for thought to lose herself withal. He walked up and down
for a moment or two, and then cast himself down upon a chair, and his
fancy gave itself up to that which was most painful--his own fate and
circumstances.
Did Lieberg do it on purpose? Who can say? There are few men who know
human nature better than he did. There are few who could more
correctly appreciate the effect of solitary thought, with gloomy
adjuncts, upon a mind loaded with crime, and weakened by vice and
intemperance. None, then, could judge better what would be that effect
upon William Barham, and yet he had ordered him, with particular care,
to be placed in that room, which he himself had never entered above
once or twice since he had hired those apartments; and yet while the
youth remained there, Lieberg was not occupied with any important
affair. He was trifling with some objects of art; writing a note or
two in answer to invitations; doing a thousand things, in short, that
might have been done at any other time. It seemed, certainly, that he
calculated upon producing a particular effect upon the mind of the
unhappy boy who was in his power.
William Barham's eye, in the meantime, strained upon the floor. It
grew more and more anxious in expression, its gaze more and more
intense. He looked as if horror-struck with some object on which his
eyes fell upon the carpet--but the unhappy boy saw nothing before him
but his own fate. Remorse, if not repentance, visited his heart! He
thought of all that he had done, of all that he might have done; he
saw that, by his own folly, and by his own crimes, at the best he had
driven himself from his native land, and had, but for an accident,
condemned himself to death, to an ignominious and terrible death. He
had lost all the advantages of a fair education, an honourable
teaching, and of a good example. He had voluntarily chosen evil when
good was within his grasp, and now the consequences had fallen upon
his head, without any place of shelter, any hope, any refuge, except
in the mercy of a man who had shewn him some harshness, and whose
objects he was strongly inclined to doubt. He had come thither with a
palpitating heart, and he remained in agitation and distress.
Minute after minute went by, and each one seemed an age, till at
length he began to think--"Is this man deceiving me?--Perhaps he is
playing me false!--Perhaps even now he has sent for the officers of
justice to seize their prey!"
He started up and approached the door, intending to steal out if he
found no one, and to say that he could not wait any longer, if he met
with any of the servants in the passage. There was a footman within a
few yards, however, and when he had repeated that which he had made up
his mind to speak, the man answered, with the cold sauciness of a
London lackey,--"My master said you were to wait for him, and so you
must wait, if you please."
The man stood directly in the way, and William Barham, re-entered the
room, with a sinking heart. His thoughts, hurried and confused, first
turned to flight, but flight, he soon saw, was impossible. The window
was high--there was a fall of five-and-twenty feet, or more, into the
area below. His next thought was, what else could give him safety?
Where was there any other hope? "This man must want something,"
he thought. "He must have some object, some purpose, some end to
answer!--What can it be?--I will do anything, everything, if he will
but spare my life."
It was at that moment that Lieberg, as if he had calculated it by a
watch, sent to call the unfortunate William Barham to his presence;
and when the youth appeared, he questioned him sternly and steadily,
as to the whole transaction of the forgery, writing down his replies.
Had William Barham been an old and wily offender, he might have
refused to plead in this illegitimate sort of court; but fear now
superseded everything: even natural cunning gave way before it, and he
told all, though he saw Lieberg taking notes of each word he spoke.
"Now," asked the interrogator, when he had finished, "will you sign
that?" and he put the paper before him.
"But will you promise me safety?" said the boy, torn by terrors of
several kinds, and gazing upon the countenance of Lieberg with eyes
that seemed as if they would start from their sockets--"will you
promise me safety?"
"Yes," answered Lieberg, "I will promise you--but on one condition,
that you will help me with your whole heart and mind in something that
I desire to accomplish."
"Oh, that I will!" exclaimed the youth, "in anything that you like."
"In _anything?_" said Lieberg, with emphasis, and at the same time
holding up his finger, to mark more particularly, that he had some
especial object.
The blood rose slightly in William Barham's cheek, but the game was
for life and death, and he had made up his mind. "Yes," he replied,
nodding his bead significantly; "perhaps I understand what you mean.
But I say, I will help you in anything you like."
"That is right," answered Lieberg, "that is quite right; and if you do
help me, instead of death, or exile, and poverty, and privation, and
gnawing want, you shall have comfort, and respectability, and
affluence, in your own land."
The youth's eyes sparkled, and Lieberg went on, "Attach yourself to my
fortunes," he continued, "and you are safe. I tell you fairly, all I
wish you to sign this paper for, is, that I may have such a hold upon
you, that neither any of those rascally companions whom you have
unfortunately met with, nor any of the whining Methodists and
hypocrites who are scarcely better than the others, may ever persuade
you to play me false in this matter. Mark me! It is not any knavery on
your part that I fear, it is weakness; but I think you know me well
enough, to be sure that I will hang you, as certain as I live, if you
fail me----"
"But will you certainly spare me, if I do not?" cried the youth. "Will
you write it down?"
Lieberg paused for a moment, in meditation, drawing in his eyelids, as
if to shut out even the daylight from his busy brain, and he replied,
at length--
"Very well, I will, marking the condition, that you pledge yourself to
assist me in one particular object, with your whole power and might."
"Very well," said the youth, and Lieberg wrote down the stipulations.
The boy signed, what might be called, his confession, and Lieberg put
his hand to the promise. After he had done so, however, he shook his
head, gazing on the boy with a smile full of pity and contempt.
"I will keep that promise, my good youth, firmly," he said, "but at
the same time I will tell you, it is of no earthly value; for I have
nothing to do but to let this bill slip into the hands of the
Bow-street officers, and you are arrested, tried, and executed in the
shortest possible time. No promise of mine could save you. It is the
state that prosecutes, the law that condemns. I have nothing to do
with it but to swear that this name, purporting to be mine, is not my
handwriting," and he took out of his pocket-book the identical bill
which William Barham had forged, and laid his finger upon the fatal
words, "Frederick Lieberg," at the bottom.
The unhappy youth gazed at it, with eyes of eager fire--and oh, what
would he have given to snatch it from the hand of him that held it,
and tear it into a thousand pieces that moment! The bright eyes of
Lieberg seemed to read his very thoughts, and again the dark and
bitter smile curled his lip, as he said--
"You cannot get it, my good youth. It will remain with me till there
is a stronger bond between you and me, and what I desire is
accomplished.--Where is your sister?"
"I do not know," replied the youth, boldly. "Do you not know?--I
thought you did."
"No, indeed," replied Lieberg, "I am utterly ignorant. But we must
both know ere long. This is the first business we have before us.--You
tell me true, I see it--but how happens it that she was removed
without your knowledge?"
"I was away for two days," replied the youth, "and when I came back
she was gone. But he knows--that Sir Morley Ernstein! Cannot you get
him to tell you?"
"I would not ask him for this right hand," replied Lieberg, "but we
will soon find out without him."
"He refused to tell me," said the youth; "he would give me no tidings,
indeed, but that she is safe and with two ladies, one of whom is a
lady of rank."
"Ha!" exclaimed Lieberg. "A lady of rank? Who can that be? And he
positively refused to let you know where she is?"
"That he did," answered the youth; "but I'll tell you what he told
me, too; he said that I should know where she is, and she should write
to me, as soon as I was aboard ship to go to the colonies. Can't we
make something of that, sir?"
"Certainly," answered Lieberg, "we will make everything of that, if we
cannot do what we desire before; for that might produce a long delay,
which must be avoided if possible.--Oh, we will arrive at it!" he
said, after a moment's thought--"where did you sleep, last night?"
"In our own house," replied the boy. "The rent is paid, the woman told
me, and she is put in to keep it, with seven shillings a week; but the
place is still ours, till the twenty-ninth of September."
"Well then," said Lieberg, "go back at once to the good woman who is
in the house, and in the course of the evening get her to tell you
exactly what was the appearance of the ladies who came for your
sister, and what was the livery of the servant whom she talked of to
me. Whether he was a tall man or a short man, and, in a word, all the
particulars that she can furnish you with. Do not let her see that you
are cross questioning her, for I suspect, from her manner to me
yesterday morning, she has been told not to tell the truth to any one.
You must therefore proceed cautiously."
"Oh, I understand--I understand!" replied the boy. "I must fish it
out, you mean."
"Exactly," said Lieberg, with a smile at the expression. "Fish it out,
and come to me at six o'clock to-day. I shall then be dressing for
dinner, but you will be admitted; and now, as perhaps you are in want
of money, there is a ten-pound note for you. If we proceed
successfully, your fortunes are begun."
The youth took the money eagerly. It was certainly the wages of
iniquity, but evil--whatever be its kind--always smoothes the road for
more; and William Barham had so often tasted burning pleasures bought
by money wrongly acquired, that there were no great scruples left in
his mind. His sister's honour and soul, her happiness, and her peace
of mind, he was very ready to sell for the combined temptation of
safety and enjoyment; and, taking the money greedily, he gave Lieberg
a meaning smile, which even sickened the superior demon with whom he
was dealing; for surely it is a part of the punishment which evil
spirits are destined to feel, even in the joys which they propose to
themselves, that they must abhor the tools they work with, and loathe
the means which they employ for their own ends. If Lieberg, at that
moment, had given way to his own inclination, he would have driven the
youth, with contempt and hatred, into the street. But he suffered him
to depart quietly, saying--"Do not fail;" and William Barham proceeded
on his way.
Exactly at the hour appointed he was at Lieberg's door again, and was
instantly admitted to his dressing-room. The splendour and the luxury
of everything that he beheld, the beautiful arrangement, the exquisite
taste, struck him so much, that for a moment he did not speak, gazing
round at all the richly-chased silver implements, the china, the
glass, and the steel-work, with which the dressing-table was covered,
and thinking that his sister would be a very happy girl, if, on any
terms, she was permitted to live in the midst of such magnificence as
that. And yet William Barham had been taught good principles; had
heard, during his early youth, moral and religious doctrines from the
lips of his mother; and, until his father's health had failed
entirely, had daily received instruction from him. But there are some
minds which seem incapable of imbibing any clear and definite notion
of right and wrong. They can recollect that they have been told one
thing is good, and another thing is evil, and perfectly distinguish
between the two, but without feeling in their hearts, even in the
slightest degree, the excellence of the one and the hatefulness of the
other. They are like that arid soil, which will produce abundance of
weeds, but in which any good shrub withers as soon as it is planted.
Such was very much the case with William Barham; but there was another
cause which had tended also to make him what he was, and which must be
clearly pointed out. His father, though an excellent man and a sincere
Christian, was fond of indulging in speculative opinions--not of
embracing, but of discussing them--the most dangerous practice in the
world before young people, for if they do not absolutely adopt the
opinion that is wrong, they learn not to be quite sure that
any opinion is right. The mind of Helen herself might have been
affected by this fault on the part of their father, but she had two
safeguards--a pure, high-spirited heart, and the memory of her
mother's counsels, she having been somewhat older than her brother,
and more capable of receiving principles than he was, at the time of
that mother's death.
The tidings which William Barham brought were fuller than Lieberg had
expected. The appearance of the servant and of the ladies was detailed
with great accuracy, and even the crest upon the servant's button was
known; but when Lieberg sent his valet to bring him a book that he
named, in which the crest of all the principal families of England
were displayed, he found that several would answer the description,
which, as may easily be supposed, had not been given with true
heraldic accuracy. William Barham seemed at his wits' end, when he
found that this was the case; but Lieberg, whatever might be the
strength of his passions, was not one of those who give them vent at
every trifling obstacle. On the contrary, like the great propelling
power of the present day, they were kept pent up within the iron of
his bosom, but to carry him on with the fiercer vehemence to the end
desired; and on this occasion he only laughed, saying--"We shall
arrive at it--do not be afraid. Combining the crest with the colour of
the livery, and then applying the description of the man himself and
the ladies, to discriminate among the various branches of the
family, we shall find out the facts. I will put it in the hands of
an Argus this very night, who will ferret out the whole matter ere
eight-and-forty hours be over. Difficulties, my young friend, to a man
of a firm mind, and obstacles in his path, of whatever nature they may
be, only afford him stronger inducements to follow his course, and
render his pursuit a passion. I remember a man who was told that he
could never throw the same combinations four times running with the
dice, and he sat for three months in the same room till he had done
it. That man was fit to struggle for an empire. I have seldom suffered
myself to seek anything very eagerly; but I never yet was baffled when
I did. And now go home, and keep yourself as quiet as may be. Have no
communication of any kind with the men that you know in London, and
confide no secrets to the women. Always be at your own house, so that
I may find you from nine in the morning till night-fall; the rest of
the four-and-twenty hours is your own."