THE REVENGE.
Levasseur and his confederates sailed for the penal settlements on the
ill-fated convict-ship, the _Amphytrion_, the total wreck of which on
the coast of France, and consequent drowning of the crew and prisoners,
excited so painful a sensation in England. A feeling of regret for the
untimely fate of Le Breton, whom I regarded rather as a weak dupe than a
purposed rascal, passed over my mind as I read the announcement in the
newspapers; but newer events had almost jostled the incidents connected
with his name from my remembrance, when a terrible adventure vividly
recalled them, and taught me how fierce and untameable are the instincts
of hate and revenge in a certain class of minds.
A robbery of plate had been committed in Portman Square with an
ingenuity and boldness which left no doubt that it had been effected by
clever and practised hands. The detective officers first employed having
failed to discover the offenders, the threads of the imperfect and
broken clue were placed in my hands, to see if my somewhat renowned
dexterity, or luck, as many of my brother officers preferred calling it,
would enable me to piece them out to a satisfactory conclusion. By the
description obtained of a man who had been seen lurking about the house
a few days previous to the burglary, it had been concluded by my
predecessors in the investigation that one Martin, a fellow with half a
dozen _aliases_, and a well-known traveler on the road to the hulks,
was concerned in the affair; and by their advice a reward of fifty
pounds had been offered for his apprehension and conviction. I
prosecuted the inquiry with my usual energy and watchfulness, without
alighting upon any new fact or intimation of importance. I could not
discover that a single article of the missing property had been either
pawned or offered for sale, and little doubt remained that the crucible
had fatally diminished the chances of detection. The only hope was, that
an increased reward might induce one of the gang to betray his
confederates; and as the property was of large value, this was done, and
one hundred guineas was promised for the required information. I had
been to the printer's to order the placards announcing the increased
recompense; and after indulging in a long gossip with the foreman of the
establishment, whom I knew well, was passing at about a quarter-past ten
o'clock through Ryder's Court, Newport Market, where a tall man met and
passed me swiftly, holding a handkerchief to his face. There was nothing
remarkable in that, as the weather was bitterly cold and sleety; and I
walked unheedingly on. I was just in the act of passing out of the court
towards Leicester Square, when swift steps sounded suddenly behind me. I
instinctively turned; and as I did so, received a violent blow on the
left shoulder--intended, I doubted not, for the nape of my neck--from
the tall individual who had passed me a minute previously. As he still
held the handkerchief to his face, I did not catch even a momentary
glance at his features, and he ran off with surprising speed. The blow,
sudden, jarring, and inflicted with a sharp instrument--by a strong
knife or a dagger--caused a sensation of faintness; and before I
recovered from it all chance of successful pursuit was at an end. The
wound, which was not at all serious, I had dressed at a chemist's shop
in the Haymarket; and as proclaiming the attack would do nothing
towards detecting the perpetrator of it, I said little about it to any
one, and managed to conceal it entirely from my wife, to whom it would
have suggested a thousand painful apprehensions whenever I happened to
be unexpectedly detained from home. The brief glimpse I had of the
balked assassin afforded no reasonable indication of his identity. To be
sure he ran at an amazing and unusual pace, but this was a qualification
possessed by so many of the light-legged as well as light-fingered
gentry of my professional acquaintance, that it could not justify even a
random suspicion; and I determined to forget the unpleasant incident as
soon as possible.
The third evening after this occurrence I was again passing along
Leicester Square at a somewhat late hour, but this time with all my eyes
about me. Snow, which the wind blew sharply in one's face, was falling
fast, and the cold was intense. Except myself, and a tallish
snow-wreathed figure--a woman apparently--not a living being was to be
seen. This figure, which was standing still at the further side of the
square, appeared to be awaiting me, and as I drew near it, threw back
the hood of a cloak, and to my great surprise disclosed the features of
a Madame Jaubert. This lady, some years before, had carried on, not very
far from the spot where she now stood, a respectable millinery business.
She was a widow with one child, a daughter of about seven years of age.
Marie-Louise, as she was named, was one unfortunate day sent to Coventry
Street on an errand with some money in her hand, and never returned. The
inquiries set on foot proved utterly without effect: not the slightest
intelligence of the fate of the child was obtained--and the grief and
distraction of the bereaved mother resulted in temporary insanity. She
was confined in a lunatic asylum for seven or eight months, and when
pronounced convalescent, found herself homeless, and almost penniless,
in the world. This sad story I had heard from one of the keepers of the
asylum during her sojourn there. It was a subject she herself never, I
was aware, touched upon; and she had no reason to suspect that I was in
the slightest degree informed of this melancholy passage in her life.
She, why, I know not, changed her name from that of Duquesne to the one
she now bore--Jaubert; and for the last two or three years had supported
a precarious existence by plausible begging-letters addressed to persons
of credulous benevolence; for which offence she had frequently visited
the police-courts at the instance of the secretary of the Mendicity
Society, and it was there I had consequently made her acquaintance.
"Madame Jaubert!" I exclaimed with unfeigned surprise, "why, what on
earth can you be waiting here for on such a night as this?"
"To see you!" was her curt reply.
"To see me! Depend upon it, then, you are knocking at the wrong door for
not the first time in your life. The very little faith I ever had in
professional widows, with twelve small children, all down in the
measles, has long since vanished, and"----
"Nay," she interrupted--she spoke English, by the way, like a
native--"I'm not such a fool as to be trying the whimpering dodge upon
you. It is a matter of business. You want to find Jem Martin?"
"Ay, truly; but what can _you_ know of him? Surely you are not _yet_
fallen so low as to be the associate or accomplice of burglars?"
"Neither yet, nor likely to be so," replied the woman; "still I could
tell you where to place your hand on James Martin, if I were but sure of
the reward."
"There can be no doubt about that," I answered.
"Then follow me, and before ten minutes are past you will have secured
your man."
I did so--cautiously, suspiciously; for my adventure three evenings
before had rendered me unusually circumspect and watchful. She led the
way to the most crowded quarter of St. Giles's, and when she had reached
the entrance of a dark blind alley, called Hine's Court, turned into it,
and beckoned me to follow.
"Nay, nay, Madame Jaubert," I exclaimed, "that wont do. You mean fairly,
I dare say; but I don't enter that respectable alley alone at this time
of night."
She stopped, silent and embarrassed. Presently she said with a sneer,
"You are afraid, I suppose?"
"Yes I am."
"What is to be done then?" she added after a few moments' consideration.
"He is alone, I assure you."
"That is possible; still I do not enter that _cul-de-sac_ to-night
unaccompanied save by you."
"You suspect me of some evil design, Mr. Waters?" said the woman with an
accent of reproach. "I thought you might, and yet nothing can be further
from the truth. My sole object is to obtain the reward, and escape from
this life of misery and degradation to my own country, and if possible
begin the world respectably again. Why should you doubt me?"
"How came you acquainted with this robber's haunts?"
"The explanation is easy, but this is not the time for it. Stay; can't
you get assistance?"
"Easily--in less than ten minutes; and if you are here when I return,
and your information proves correct, I will ask pardon for my
suspicions."
"Be it so," she said joyfully; "and be quick, for this weather is
terrible."
Ten minutes had not passed when I returned with half-a-dozen officers,
and found Madame Jaubert still at her post. We followed her up the
court, caught Martin sure enough asleep upon a wretched pallet of straw
in one of the alley hovels, and walked him off, terribly scared and
surprised, to the nearest station-house, where he passed the remainder
of the night.
The next day Martin proved an _alibi_ of the distinctest, most
undeniable kind. He had been an inmate of Clerkenwell prison for the
last three months, with the exception of just six days previous to our
capture of him; and he was of course at once discharged. The reward was
payable only upon conviction of the offender, and the disappointment of
poor Madame Jaubert was extreme. She wept bitterly at the thought of
being compelled to continue her present disreputable mode of life, when
a thousand francs--a sum she believed Martin's capture would have
assured her--besides sufficient for her traveling expenses and decent
outfit, would, she said, purchase a partnership in a small but
respectable millinery shop in Paris. "Well," I remarked to her, "there
is no reason for despair. You have not only proved your sincerity and
good faith, but that you possess a knowledge--how acquired you best
know--of the haunts and hiding-places of burglars. The reward, as you
may have seen by the new placards, has been doubled; and I have a strong
opinion, from something that has reached me this morning, that if you
could light upon one Armstrong, _alias_ Rowden, it would be as certainly
yours as if already in your pocket."
"Armstrong--Rowden!" repeated the woman with anxious simplicity; "I
never heard either of these names. What sort of a person is he?"
I described him minutely; but Madame Jaubert appeared to entertain
little or no hope of discovering his whereabout; and ultimately went
away in a very disconsolate mood, after, however, arranging to meet me
the next evening.
I met her as agreed. She could obtain, she said, no intelligence of any
reliable worth; and she pressed me for further particulars. Was
Armstrong a drinking, a gaming, or a play-going man? I told her all I
knew of his habits, and a gleam of hope glanced across her face as one
or two indications were mentioned. I was to see her again on the morrow.
It came; she was as far off as ever; and I advised her to waste no
further time in the pursuit, but to at once endeavor to regain a
position of respectability by the exercise of industry in the trade or
business in which she was reputedly well-skilled. Madame Jaubert laughed
scornfully; and a gleam, it seemed to me, of her never entirely subdued
insanity shot out from her deep-set, flashing eyes. It was finally
settled that I should meet her once more at the same place at about
eight o'clock the next evening.
I arrived somewhat late at the appointed rendezvous, and found Madame
Jaubert in a state of manifest excitement and impatience. She had, she
was pretty sure, discovered Armstrong, and knew that he was at that
moment in a house in Greek Street, Soho.
"Greek Street, Soho! Is he alone?"
"Yes; with the exception of a woman who is minding the premises, and of
whom he is an acquaintance under another name. You will be able to
secure him without the least risk or difficulty, but not an instant must
be lost."
Madame Jaubert perceived my half-hesitation. "Surely" she exclaimed,
"you are not afraid of one man! It's useless affecting to suspect _me_
after what has occurred."
"True," I replied. "Lead on."
The house at which we stopped in Greek Street appeared to be an empty
one, from the printed bills in the windows announcing it to be let or
sold. Madame Jaubert knocked in a peculiar manner at the door, which was
presently opened by a woman. "Is Mr. Brown still within?" Madame Jaubert
asked in a low voice.
"Yes: what do you want with him?"
"I have brought a gentleman who will most likely be a purchaser of some
of the goods he has to dispose of."
"Walk in, then, if you please," was the answer. We did so; and found
ourselves, as the door closed, in pitch darkness. "This way," said the
woman; "you shall have a light in half a minute."
"Let me guide you," said Madame Jaubert, as I groped onwards by the
wall, and at the same time seizing my right hand. Instantly as she did
so, I heard a rustle just behind me--two quick and violent blows
descended on the back of my head, there was a flash before my eyes, a
suppressed shout of exultation rang in my ears, and I fell insensible to
the ground.
It was some time, on partially recovering my senses, before I could
realize either what had occurred or the situation in which I found
myself. Gradually, however, the incidents attending the
artfully-prepared treachery of Madame Jaubert grew into distinctness,
and I pretty well comprehended my present position. I was lying at the
bottom of a cart, blindfold, gagged, handcuffed, and covered over by
what, from their smell, seemed to be empty corn-sacks. The vehicle was
moving at a pretty rapid rate, and judging from the roar and tumult
without, through one of the busiest thoroughfares of London. It was
Saturday evening; and I thought, from the character of the noises, and
the tone of a clock just chiming ten, that we were in Tottenham Court
Road. I endeavored to rise, but found, as I might have expected, that it
was impossible to do so; my captors having secured me to the floor of
the cart by strong cords. There was nothing for it, therefore, but
patience and resignation; words easily pronounced, but difficult, under
such circumstances, to realize in practice. My thoughts, doubtless in
consequence of the blows I had received, soon became hurried and
incoherent. A tumultuous throng of images swept confusedly past, of
which the most constant and frequent were the faces of my wife and
youngest child, whom I had kissed in his sleep just previous to leaving
home. Madame Jaubert and James Martin were also there; and ever and anon
the menacing countenance of Levasseur stooped over me with a hideous
expression, and I felt as if clutched in the fiery grasp of a demon. I
have no doubt that the voice which sounded in my ear at the moment I was
felled to the ground must have suggested the idea of the Swiss--faintly
and imperfectly as I caught it. This tumult of brain only gradually
subsided as the discordant uproar of the streets--which no doubt added
to the excitement I was suffering under by suggesting the exasperating
nearness of abundant help which could not be appealed to--died gradually
away into a silence only broken by the rumble of the cart-wheels, and
the subdued talk of the driver and his companions, of whom there
appeared to be two or three. At length the cart stopped, I heard a door
unlocked and thrown open, and a few moments afterwards I was dragged
from under the corn-sacks, carried up three flights of stairs, and
dropped brutally upon the floor till a light could be procured. Directly
one was brought, I was raised to my feet, placed upright against a
wooden partition, and staples having been driven into the paneling,
securely fastened in that position, with cords passed through them, and
round my armpits. This effected, an authoritative voice--the now
distinct recognition of which thrilled me with dismay--ordered that I
should be unblinded. It was done; and when my eyes became somewhat
accustomed to the suddenly-dazzling light and glare, I saw Levasseur and
the clerk Dubarle standing directly in front of me, their faces kindled
into flame by fiendish triumph and delight. The report that they had
been drowned was then a mistake, and they had incurred the peril of
returning to this country for the purpose of avenging themselves upon
me; and how could it be doubted that an opportunity achieved at such
fearful risk, would be effectually, remorselessly used? A pang of mortal
terror shot through me, and then I strove to awaken in my heart a stern
endurance, and resolute contempt of death, with, I may now confess, very
indifferent success. The woman Jaubert was, I also saw, present; and a
man, whom I afterwards ascertained to be Martin, was standing near the
doorway, with his back towards me. These two, at a brief intimation from
Levasseur, went down stairs; and then the fierce exultation of the two
escaped convicts--of Levasseur especially--broke forth with wolfish rage
and ferocity. "Ha--ha--ha!" shouted the Swiss, at the same time striking
me over the face with his open hand, "you find, then, that others can
plot as well as you can--dog, traitor, scoundrel that you are! 'Au
revoir--alors!' was it, eh? Well, here we are, and I wish you joy of the
meeting. Ha--ha! How dismal the rascal looks, Dubarle!"--(Again the
coward struck me)--"He is hardly grateful to me, it seems, for having
kept my word. I always do, my fine fellow," he added with a savage
chuckle; "and never neglect to pay my debts of honor. Yours
especially," he continued, drawing a pistol from his pocket, "shall be
prompt payment, and with interest too, scélérat!" He held the muzzle of
the pistol to within a yard of my forehead, and placed his finger on the
trigger. I instinctively closed my eyes, and tasted in that fearful
moment the full bitterness of death; but my hour was not yet come.
Instead of the flash and report which I expected would herald me into
eternity, a taunting laugh from Levasseur at the terror he excited rang
through the room.
"Come--come," said Dubarle, over whose face a gleam of commiseration,
almost of repentance, had once or twice passed; "you will alarm that
fellow down stairs with your noise. We must, you know, wait till he is
gone; and he appears to be in no hurry. In the meantime let us have a
game of piquet for the first shot at the traitor's carcase."
"Excellent--capital!" shouted Levasseur with savage glee. "A game of
piquet; the stake your life, Waters! A glorious game! and mind you see
fair-play. In the meantime here's your health, and better luck next time
if you should chance to live to see it." He swallowed a draught of wine
which Dubarle, after helping himself, had poured out for him; and then
approaching me, with the silver cup he had drained in his hand, said,
"Look at the crest! Do you recognize it--fool, idiot that you are?"
I did so readily enough: it was a portion of the plunder carried off
from Portman Square.
"Come," again interposed Dubarle, "let us have our game."
The play began, and---- But I will dwell no longer upon this terrible
passage in my police experience. Frequently even now the incidents of
that night revisit me in dreams, and I awake with a start and cry of
terror. In addition to the mental torture I endured, I was suffering
under an agonizing thirst, caused by the fever of my blood, and the
pressure of the absorbing gag, which still remained in my mouth. It was
wonderful I did not lose my senses. At last the game was over; the Swiss
won, and sprang to his feet with the roar of a wild beast.
At this moment Madame Jaubert entered the apartment somewhat hastily.
"This man below," she said, "is getting insolent. He has taken it into
his tipsy head that you mean to kill your prisoner, and he wont, he
says, be involved in a murder, which would be sure to be found out. I
told him he was talking absurdly; but he is still not satisfied, so you
had better go down and speak to him yourself."
I afterwards found, it may be as well to mention here, that Madame
Jaubert and Martin had been induced to assist in entrapping me, in order
that I might be out of the way when a friend of Levasseur's, who had
been committed to Newgate on a serious charge, came to be tried, I being
the chief witness against him; and they were both assured that I had
nothing more serious to apprehend than a few days' detention. In
addition to a considerable money-present, Levasseur had, moreover,
promised Madame Jaubert to pay her expenses to Paris, and assist in
placing her in business there.
Levasseur muttered a savage imprecation on hearing the woman's message,
and then said, "Come with me, Dubarle; if we cannot convince the fellow,
we can at least silence him! Marie Duquesne, you will remain here."
As soon as they were gone, the woman eyed me with a compassionate
expression, and approaching close to me, said in a low voice, "Do not be
alarmed at their tricks and menaces. After Thursday you will be sure to
be released."
I shook my head, and as distinctly as I could made a gesture with my
fettered arms towards the table on which the wine was standing. She
understood me. "If," said she, "you will promise not to call out, I will
relieve you of the gag."
I eagerly nodded compliance. The gag was removed, and she held a cup of
wine to my fevered lips. It was a draught from the waters of paradise,
and hope, energy, life, were renewed within me as I drank.
"You are deceived," I said in a guarded voice, the instant my burning
thirst was satisfied. "They intend to murder me, and you will be
involved as an accomplice."
"Nonsense," she replied. "They have been frightening you, that's all."
"I again repeat you are deceived. Release me from these fetters and
cords, give me but a chance of at least selling my life as dearly as I
can, and the money you told me you stood in need of shall be yours."
"Hark!" she exclaimed. "They are coming!"
"Bring down a couple of bottles of wine," said Levasseur from the bottom
of the stairs. Madame Jaubert obeyed the order, and in a few minutes
returned.
I renewed my supplications to be released, and was of course extremely
liberal of promises.
"It is vain talking," said the woman. "I do not believe they will harm
you; but even if it were as you say, it is too late now to retrace my
steps. You cannot escape. That fool below is already three-parts
intoxicated: they are both armed, and would hesitate at nothing if they
but suspected treachery."
It was vain to urge her. She grew sullen and menacing and was insisting
that the gag should be replaced in my mouth, when a thought struck me.
"Levasseur called you Marie Duquesne just now; but surely your name is
Jaubert--is it not?"
"Do not trouble yourself about my name," she replied, "that is my
affair, not yours."
"Because if you _are_ the Marie Duquesne who once kept a shop in
Cranbourne Alley, and lost a child called Marie-Louise, I could tell you
something."
A wild light broke from her dark eyes, and a suppressed scream from her
lips. "I am that Marie Duquesne!" she said in a voice tremulous with
emotion.
"Then I have to inform you that the child so long supposed to be lost I
discovered nearly three weeks ago."
The woman fairly leapt towards me, clasped me fiercely by the arms, and
peering in my face with eyes on fire with insane excitement, hissed out,
"You lie--you lie, you dog! You are striving to deceive me! She is in
heaven: the angels told me so long since."
I do not know, by the way, whether the falsehood I was endeavoring to
palm off upon the woman was strictly justifiable or not; but I am fain
to believe that there are few moralists that would not, under the
circumstances, have acted pretty much as I did.
"If your child was lost when going on an errand to Coventry Street, and
her name is Marie-Louise Duquesne, I tell you she is found. How should I
otherwise have become acquainted with these particulars?"
"True--true," she muttered: "how else should he know? Where is she?"
added the woman in tones of agonized entreaty, as she sank down and
clasped my knees. "Tell me--tell me, as you hope for life or mercy,
where I may find my child?"
"Release me, give me a chance of escape, and to-morrow your child shall
be in your arms. Refuse, and the secret dies with me."
She sprang quickly to her feet, unclasped the handcuffs, snatched a
knife from the table, and cut the cords which bound me with eager haste.
"Another draught of wine," she said still in the same hurried, almost
insane manner. "You have work to do! Now, whilst I secure the door, do
you rub and chafe your stiffened joints." The door was soon fastened,
and then she assisted in restoring the circulation to my
partially-benumbed limbs. This was at last accomplished, and Marie
Duquesne drew me towards a window, which she softly opened. "It is
useless," she whispered, "to attempt a struggle with the men below. You
must descend by this," and she placed her hand upon a lead water-pipe,
which reached from the roof to within a few feet of the ground.
"And you," I said; "how are you to escape?"
"I will tell you. Do you hasten on towards Hampstead, from which we are
distant in a northerly direction about a mile. There is a house at about
half the distance. Procure help, and return as quickly as possible. The
door-fastenings will resist some time, even should your flight be
discovered. You will not fail me?"
"Be assured I will not." The descent was a difficult and somewhat
perilous one, but it was safely accomplished, and I set off at the top
of my speed towards Hampstead.
I had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, when the distant sound of a
horse's feet, coming at a slow trot towards me, caught my ear. I paused,
to make sure I was not deceived, and as I did so, a wild scream from the
direction I had left, followed by another and another, broke upon the
stillness of the night. The scoundrels had no doubt discovered my
escape, and were about to wreak their vengeance upon the unfortunate
creature in their power. The trot of the horse which I had heard was,
simultaneously with the breaking out of those wild outcries, increased
to a rapid gallop. "Hallo!" exclaimed the horseman as he came swiftly
up. "Do you know where these screams come from?" It was the horse-patrol
who thus providentially came up! I briefly stated that the life of a
woman was at the mercy of two escaped convicts. "Then for God's sake
jump up behind me!" exclaimed the patrol. "We shall be there in a couple
of minutes." I did so: the horse--a powerful animal, and not entirely
unused to carry double--started off, as if it comprehended the necessity
for speed, and in a very brief space of time we were at the door of the
house from which I had so lately escaped. Marie Duquesne, with her body
half out of the window, was still wildly screaming as we rushed into the
room below. There was no one there, and we swiftly ascended the stairs,
at the top of which we could hear Levasseur and Dubarle thundering at
the door, which they had unexpectedly found fastened, and hurling a
storm of imprecations at the woman within, the noise of which enabled us
to approach them pretty nearly before we were heard or perceived. Martin
saw us first, and his sudden exclamation alarmed the others. Dubarle and
Martin made a desperate rush to pass us, by which I was momently thrown
on one side against the wall; and very fortunately, as the bullet
levelled at me from a pistol Levasseur held in his hand would probably
have finished me. Martin escaped, which I was not very sorry for; but
the patrol pinned Dubarle safely, and I griped Levasseur with a strength
and ferocity against which he was powerless as an infant. Our victory
was complete; and two hours afterwards, the recaptured convicts were
safely lodged in a station-house.
I caused Madame Duquesne to be as gently undeceived the next morning as
possible, with respect to her child; but the reaction and
disappointment proved too much for her wavering intellect. She relapsed
into positive insanity, and was placed in Bedlam, where she remained two
years. At the end of that period she was pronounced convalescent. A
sufficient sum of money was raised by myself and others, not only to
send her to Paris, but to enable her to set up as a milliner in a small
but respectable way. As lately as last May, when I saw her there she was
in health both of mind and body, and doing comfortably.
With the concurrence of the police authorities, very little was said
publicly respecting my entrapment. It might perhaps have excited a
monomania amongst liberated convicts--colored and exaggerated as every
incident would have been for the amusement of the public--to attempt
similar exploits. I was also anxious to conceal the peril I had
encountered from my wife; and it was not till I had left the police
force that she was informed of it. Levasseur and Dubarle were convicted
of returning from transportation before the term for which they had been
sentenced had expired, and were this time sent across the seas for life.
The reporters of the morning papers, or rather the reporter for the
"Times," "Herald," "Chronicle," "Post," and "Advertiser," gave precisely
the same account, even to the misspelling of Levasseur's name,
dismissing the brief trial in the following paragraph, under the head of
"Old Bailey Sessions:"--"Alphonse Dubarle (24), and Sebastian Levasson
(49), were identified as unlawfully-returned convicts, and sentenced to
transportation for life. The prisoners, it was understood, were
connected with the late plate-robbery in Portman Square; but as
conviction could not have increased their punishment, the indictment was
not pressed."
Levasseur, I had almost forgotten to state, admitted that it was he who
wounded me in Ryder's Court, Leicester Square.