_A Glimpse of the Crimes and Miseries of a Great City._
After his narrow escape from an ignominious death, Frank Sydney resumed
his nocturnal wanderings thro' the city, in disguise, in order to do
deeds of charity and benevolence to those who needed his aid. One night,
dressed in the garb of a sailor, and wearing an immense pair of false
whiskers, he strolled towards the Five Points, and entered the 'crib' of
Bloody Mike. That respectable establishment was filled as usual with a
motley collection of gentlemen of undoubted reputation--thieves,
vagabonds, homeless wretches, and others of the same stamp, among whom
were some of the most miserable looking objects possible to be
conceived.
At the moment of Frank's entrance, Ragged Pete was engaged in relating
the particulars of a horrible event which had occurred upon the
preceding night on the 'Points.' The incident is a _true_ one, and we
introduce it here to show what awful misery exists in the very midst of
all our boasted civilization and benevolence:--
'You see, fellers,' said Ragged Pete, leisurely sipping a gill of _blue
ruin_, which he held in his hand--'the victim was a woman of the town,
as lived upstairs in Pat Mulligan's crib in this street. She had once
been a decent woman, but her husband was a drunken vagabond, as beat and
starved her to such an extent, that she was obliged to go on the town to
keep herself from dying of actual starvation. Well, the husband he was
took up and sent to quod for six months, as a common vagrant; and the
wife she lived in Mulligan's crib, in a room as hadn't a single article
of furniture in it, exceptin' a filthy old bed of straw in one corner. A
week ago, the poor cretur was taken ill, and felt herself likely to
become a mother, but the brutes in the house wouldn't pay no attention
to her in that situation, but left her all to herself. What she must
have suffered during that night and the next day, you can imagine; and
towards evening Pat Mulligan goes to her room, and finds her almost
dead, with her poor child in her arms, wrapped up in an old blanket.
Well, what does Pat do but ax her for his rent, which she owed him; and
because the poor woman had nothing to pay him, the Irish vagabond (axing
your pardon, Bloody Mike,) bundles her neck and crop into the street,
weak and sick as she was, with a hinfant scarce a day old, crying in her
arms. The weather was precious cold, and it was snowing, and to keep
herself and child from freezing to death, as she thought, she crept into
a hog-pen which stands in Pat's yard. And this morning she was found in
the hog-pen, stone dead, and the hogs were devouring the dead body of
the child, which was already half ate up! I'll tell you what, fellers,'
exclaimed Ragged Pete, dashing a tear from his eye, and swallowing the
remainder of his gin--'I'm a hard case myself, and have seen some hard
things in my time, but d----n me if the sight of that poor woman's
corpse and the mutilated body of her child, didn't set me to thinking
that this is a great city, where such a thing takes place in the very
midst of it!'
'Three groans for Pat Mulligan!' roared a drunken fellow from beneath
the table.
The groans were rendered with due emphasis and effect; and then one of
the drunken crowd proposed that they should visit the 'crib' of Mr.
Mulligan, and testify their disapprobation of that gentleman's conduct
in a more forcible and striking manner.
This proposal was received with a shout of approbation by the drunken
crew, and was warmly seconded by Bloody Mike himself, who regarded Mr.
Patrick Mulligan as a formidable rival in his line of business, and
therefore entertained feelings strongly hostile to his
fellow-countryman. Then forth sallied the dingy crowd, headed by Ragged
Pete, (who found himself suddenly transformed into a hero,) and followed
by Frank Sydney, who was desirous of seeing the issue of this strange
affair.
The house occupied by Mulligan was an old, rotten tenement, which would
undoubtedly have fallen to the ground, had it not been propped up by the
adjoining buildings; and as it was, one end of it had settled down, in
consequence of the giving away of the foundation, so that every room in
the house was like a steep hill. The lower room was occupied as a
groggery and dance-hall, and was several feet below the level of the
street.
Into this precious den did the guests of Bloody Mike march, in single
file. It had been previously agreed between them, that Ragged Pete
would give the signal for battle, by personally attacking no less a
person than Mr. Mulligan himself. Frank also entered, and taking up a
secure position in one corner, surveyed the scene with interest.
Seated in the corner, upon an inverted wash-tub, was an old negro, whose
wool was white as snow, who was arrayed in a dirty, ragged, military
coat which had once been red. This sable genius rejoiced in the lofty
title of 'the General;' he was playing with frantic violence on an old,
cracked violin, during which performance he threw his whole body into
the strangest contortions, working his head, jaws, legs and arms in the
most ludicrous manner. The 'music' thus produced was responded to, 'on
the floor,' by about twenty persons, who were indulging in the 'mazy
dance.' The company included old prostitutes, young thieves, negro
chimney-sweeps, and many others whom it would be difficult to classify.
The room being small and very close, and heated by an immense stove, the
stench was intolerable.--Behind the bar was a villainous looking
Irishman, whose countenance expressed as much intellect or humanity as
that of a hog. This was Pat Mulligan, and he was busily engaged in
dealing out the delectable nectar called 'blue ruin' at the very
moderate rate of one penny per gill.
A _very_ important man, forsooth, was that Irish 'landlord,' in the
estimation of himself and customers.--None dare address him without
prefixing a deferential '_Mr._' to his name; and Frank Sydney was both
amused and irritated as he observed the brutal insolence with which the
low, ignorant ruffian treated the poor miserable wretches, from whose
scanty pence he derived his disgraceful livelihood.
'Mr. Mulligan,' said a pale, emaciated woman, whose hollow cheek and
sunken eye eloquently proclaimed her starving condition--'won't you
trust me for a sixpenny loaf of bread until to-morrow? My little girl,
poor thing, is dying, and I have eaten nothing this day.' And the poor
creature wept.
'Trust ye!' roared the Irishman, glaring ferociously upon her--'faith,
it's not exactly _trust_ I'll give ye; but I'll give ye a beating
that'll not leave a whole bone in your skin, if ye are not out of this
place in less time than it takes a pig to grunt.'
The poor woman turned and left the place, with a heavy heart, and Ragged
Pete, deeming this a good opportunity to begin hostilities, advanced to
the bar with a swagger, and said to the Irishman,--
'You're too hard upon that woman, Pat.'
'What's that to you, ye dirty spalpeen?' growled Mulligan, savagely.
'This much,' responded Pete, seizing an immense earthen pitcher which
stood on the counter, and hurling it with unerring aim at the head of
the Irishman. The vessel broke into a hundred pieces, and though it
wounded Mulligan dreadfully, he was not disabled; for, grasping an axe
which stood within his reach, he rushed from behind the bar, and
swinging the formidable weapon aloft, he would have cloven in twain the
skull of Ragged Pete, had not that gentleman evaded him with much
agility, and closing with him, bore him to the floor, and began to
pummel him vigorously.
No sooner did the customers of Pat Mulligan see their dreaded landlord
receiving a sound thrashing, then all fear of him vanished; and, as they
all hated the Irish bully, and smarted under the remembrance of
numerous insults and wrongs sustained at his hands, they with one accord
fell upon him, and beat him within an inch of his life. Not content with
this mode of retaliation, they tore down the bar, demolished the glasses
and decanters, spilled all the liquor, and in short caused the
flourishing establishment of Mr. Pat Mulligan to assume a very forlorn
appearance.
While this work of destruction was going on, the alarm was given that a
body of watchmen had assembled outside the door, and was about to make
an advance upon the 'crib.' To exit the house now became the general
intent; and several had already beaten a retreat through the rear of the
premises, when the watchman burst into the front door, and made captives
of all who were present. Frank Sydney was collared by one of the
officials, and although our hero protested that he had not mingled in
the row, but was merely a spectator, he was carried to the watch-house
along with the others.
When the party arrived at the watch-house, (which is situated in a wing
of the 'Tombs,') the prisoners were all arrayed in a straight line
before the desk of the Captain of the Watch, for that officer's
examination. To give the reader an idea of the way in which justice is
sometimes administered in New York, we shall detail several of the
individual examinations, and their results:--
'What's your name?' cried the Captain, addressing the first of the
prisoners. 'Barney McQuig, an' plaze yer honor,' was the reply, in a
strong Hibernian accent.
A sort of under-official, who was seated at the desk, whispered in the
ear of the Captain of the Watch--
'I know him, he's an infernal scoundrel, but he _votes our ticket_, and
you let him slide, by all means.'
'McQuig, you are discharged,' said the Captain to the prisoner.
'Why, sir, that man was one of the worst of the rioters, and he is,
besides, one of the greatest villains on the Points,' remarked a
watchman, who, having only been recently appointed, was comparatively
_green_, and by no means _au fait_ in the method of doing business in
that 'shop.'
'Silence, sir!' thundered the Captain--'how dare you dispute my
authority? I shall discharge whom I please, damn you; and you will do
well if you are not discharged from your post for your interference.'
The indignant Captain demanded the name of the next prisoner, who
confessed to the eccentric Scriptural cognomen of 'Numbers Clapp.'
'I know _him_, too,' again whispered the under-official--'he is a common
and notorious thief, but he is useful to us as a _stool pigeon_,[3] and
you must let him go.'
'Clapp, you can go,' said the Captain; and Mr. Numbers Clapp lost no
time in conveying himself from the dangerous vicinity of justice; though
such _justice_ as we here record, was not very dangerous to _him_.
'Now, fellow, what's _your_ name?' asked the Captain of a shabbily
dressed man, whose appearance strongly indicated both abject poverty and
extreme ill health.
'Dionysus Wheezlecroft,' answered the man, with a consumptive cough.
'Do you know him?' inquired the Captain, addressing the under-official,
in a whisper.
'Perfectly well,' replied the other--'he is a poor devil, utterly
harmless and inoffensive, and is both sick and friendless. He was
formerly a political stump orator of some celebrity; he worked hard for
his party, and when that party got into power, it kicked him to the
devil, and he has been flat on his back ever since.'
'What party did he belong to?--_ours?_' asked the Captain.
'No,' was the reply; and that brief monosyllable of two letters, sealed
the doom of Dionysus Wheezlecroft.
'Lock him up,' cried the Captain--'he will be _sent over_ for six months
in the morning.' And so he was--not for any crime, but because he did
not belong to _our party_.
Several negroes, male and female, who could not possibly belong to any
party, were then summarily disposed of; and at last it came to Frank's
turn to be examined.
'Say, you sailor fellow,' quoth the Captain, 'what's your name?'
Frank quietly stepped forward, and in as few words as possible made
himself known; he explained the motives of his disguise, and the
circumstances under which he had been induced to enter the house of Pat
Mulligan.--The Captain, though savage and tyrannical to his inferiors,
was all smiles and affability to the rich Mr. Sydney.
'Really, my dear sir,' said he, rubbing his hands, and accompanying
almost every word with a corresponding bow, 'you have disguised yourself
so admirably, that it would puzzle the wits of a lawyer to make out who
you are, until you should _speak_, and then your gentlemanly accent
would betray you. Allow me to offer you ten thousand apologies, on
behalf of my men, for having dared to subject you to the inconvenience
of an arrest; and permit me also to assure you that if they had known
who you were, they would not have molested you had they found you
demolishing all the houses on the Points.'
'I presume I am at liberty to depart?' said Frank; and the Captain
returned a polite affirmative. Our hero left the hall of judgment,
thoroughly disgusted with the injustice and partiality of this petty
minion of the law; for he well knew that had he himself been in reality
nothing more than a poor sailor, as his garb indicated, the three words,
'lock him up,' would have decided his fate for that night; and that upon
the following morning the three words, 'send him over,' would have
decided his fate for the ensuing six months.
When Frank was gone, the Captain said to the under official:
'That is Mr. Sydney, the young gentleman who was convicted of murder a
short time ago, and whose innocence of the crime was made manifest in
such an extraordinary manner, just in time to save his neck. He is very
rich, and of course I could not think of locking _him_ up.'
The Captain proceeded to examine other prisoners, and Frank went in
quest of other adventures, in which pursuit we shall follow him.
As he turned into Broadway, he encountered a showily dressed courtezan,
who, addressing him with that absence of ceremony for which such ladies
are remarkable, requested him to accompany her home.
'This may lead to something,' thought Frank; and pretending to be
somewhat intoxicated, he proffered her his arm, which she took, at the
same time informing him that her residence was in Anthony street. This
street was but a short distance from where they had met; a walk of five
minutes brought them to it, and the woman conducted Frank back into a
dark narrow court, and into an old wooden building which stood at its
further extremity.
'Wait here a few moments, until I get a light,' said the woman; and
entering a room which opened from the entry, she left our hero standing
in the midst of profound darkness.--Hearing a low conversation going on
in the room, he applied his ear to the key-hole, and listened, having
good reason to suppose that he himself was the object of the discourse.
'What sort of a man does he appear to be?' was asked, in a voice which
sent a thrill through every nerve in Frank's body--for it struck him
that he had heard it before. It was the voice of a man, and its tones
were peculiar.
'He is a sailor,' replied the woman--'and as he is somewhat drunk now,
the powder will soon put him to sleep, and then--'
The remainder of the sentence was inaudible to Frank; he had heard
enough, however, to put him on his guard; for he felt convinced that he
was in one of those murderous dens of prostitution and crime, where
robbery and assassination are perpetrated upon many an unsuspecting
victim.
In a few minutes the woman issued from the room, bearing a lighted
candle; and requesting Frank to follow, she led the way up a crooked and
broken stair-case, and into a small chamber, scantily furnished,
containing only a bed, a table, a few chairs, and other articles of
furniture, of the commonest kind.
Our hero had now an opportunity to examine the woman narrowly.--Though
her eyes were sunken with dissipation, and her cheeks laden with paint,
the remains of great beauty were still discernible in her features, and
a vague idea obtruded itself, like a dim shadow, upon Frank's mind, that
this was not the _first_ time he had seen her.
'Why do you watch me so closely?' demanded the woman, fixing her
piercing eyes upon his countenance.
'Ax yer pardon, old gal, but aren't you going to fetch on some grog?'
said our hero, assuming a thick, drunken tone, and drawing from his
pocket a handful of gold and silver coin.
'Give me some money, and I will get you some liquor,' rejoined the
woman, her eyes sparkling with delight, as she saw that her intended
victim was well supplied with funds. Frank gave her a half dollar, and
she went down stairs, promising to be back in less than ten minutes.
During her absence, and while our hero was debating whether to make a
hasty retreat from the house, or remain and see what discoveries he
could make tending to throw light on the character and practices of the
inmates, the chamber door opened, and to his surprise a small boy of
about five years of age entered, and gazed at him with childish
curiosity.
'Surely I have seen that little lad before,' thought Frank; and then he
said, aloud--
'What is your name, my boy?'
'_Jack the Prig_,' replied the little fellow.
Frank started; memory carried him back to the Dark Vaults, where he had
heard the Dead Man _catechise_ his little son, and he recollected that
the urchin had, on that occasion, made the same reply to a similar
question. By referring to the sixth chapter of this work, the reader
will find the questions and answers of that singular catechism.
Resolving to test the matter further, our hero asked the boy the next
question which he remembered the Dead Man had addressed to his son, on
that eventful night:--
'Who gave you that name?'
'_The Jolly Knights of the Round Table_,' replied the boy, mechanically.
'By heavens, 'tis as I suspected!' thought Frank--'the child's answers
to my questions prove him to be the son of the Dead Man; the voice which
I heard while listening in the passage, and which seemed familiar to me,
was the voice of that infernal miscreant himself: and the woman whom I
accompanied hither, and whom I half fancied I had seen before--that
woman is his wife.'
The boy, probably fearing a return of his mother, left the room; and
Frank continued his meditations in the following strain:--
'The mystery begins to clear up. This house is probably the one that
communicates with the _secret outlet_ of the Dark Vaults, through which
I passed, blindfolded, accompanied by those two villains, Fred Archer,
and the Dead Man. The woman, no doubt, entices unsuspecting men into
this devil's trap, and after _drugging_ them into a state of
insensibility, hands them over to the tender mercies of her hideous
husband, who, after robbing them, casts them, perhaps, into some
infernal pit beneath this house, there to die and rot!--Good God, what
terrible iniquities are perpetrated in the very heart of this great
city--iniquities which are unsuspected and unknown! And yet the
perpetrators of them often escape their merited punishment, while I, an
innocent man, came within a hair's breadth of perishing upon the
scaffold for another's crime! But I will not question the divine justice
of the Almighty; the guilty may elude the punishment due their crimes,
in this world, but vengeance will overtake them in the next. It shall,
however, henceforth be the great object of my life, to bring one
stupendous miscreant to the bar of human justice--the Dead Man whose
escape from the State Prison was followed by his outrage upon Clinton
Romaine, by which the poor boy was forever deprived of the faculty of
speech; and 'tis my firm belief that 'twas by his accursed hand my aunt
was murdered; she was too elevated in character, and too good a
Christian, to commit suicide, and _he_ is the only man in existence who
could slay such an excellent and honorable woman! Yes--something tells
me that the Dead Man is the murderer of my beloved relative, and never
will I rest till he is in my power, that I may wreak upon him my deadly
vengeance!'
Hearing a footstep on the stairs, he assumed an attitude and expression
of countenance indicative of drowsiness and stupidity. A moment
afterwards, the woman entered, and placed upon the table a small pitcher
containing liquor. Taking from a shelf two tumblers, she turned her back
towards Frank, and drew from her bosom a small box, from which she
rapidly transferred a few grains of fine white powder into one of the
tumblers; then going to a cupboard in one corner, she put a teaspoonful
of loaf sugar into each of the tumblers, and placing them upon the
table, requested our hero to 'help himself.'
Frank poured some liquor into the tumbler nearest him, and looking
askance at the woman as he did so, he saw that her features wore a smile
of satisfaction; she then supplied her own glass, and was about to raise
it to her lips, when our hero said, in a gruff, sleepy tone--
'I say, old woman, you haven't half sweetened this grog of mine. Don't
be so d--d stingy of your sugar, for I've money enough to pay for it.'
The woman turned and went to the closet to get another spoonful of the
article in question; when Frank, with the rapidity of lightning,
_changed the tumblers_, placing the deadly dose designed for him, in the
same spot where the woman's tumbler had stood. This movement was
accomplished with so much dexterity, that when she advanced to the table
with the sugar, she failed to notice the alteration.
'Well, old gal--here's to the wind that blows, the ship that goes, and
the lass that loves a sailor!' And delivering himself of this hackneyed
nautical toast, the pretended seaman drank off the contents of his
glass, an example which was followed by the female miscreant, who
responded to Frank's toast by uttering aloud the significant wish--
'May your sleep to-night be sound!'
'Ay, ay, I hope so, and yours, too,' grumbled our hero, placing an
enormous quid of tobacco in his cheek, in order to remove the unpleasant
taste of the vile liquor which he had just drank.
There was a pause of a few minutes; when suddenly the woman grasped
Frank convulsively by the arm, and gazed into his countenance with
wildly gleaming eyes.
'Tell me,' she gasped, like one in the agonies of strangulation--'tell
me the truth, for God's sake--_did you change those tumblers_?'
'I did,' was the answer.
'Then I am lost!' she almost shrieked--'lost, lost! The liquor which I
drank contained a powder which will within half an hour sink me into a
condition of insensibility, from which I shall only awake a raging
maniac! I am rightly served--for I designed that to be _your_ fate!'
'Wretched woman, I pity you,' said Frank, in a tone of commiseration.
'I deserve not your pity,' she cried, writhing as if in great bodily
torment--'my soul is stained with the guilt of a thousand crimes--and
the only reparation I can make you, to atone for the wrong I intended,
is to warn you to fly from this house as from a pestilence! This is the
abode of murder--it is a charnel-house of iniquity; fly from hence, as
you value your life--for an hour after midnight my husband, the terrible
Dead Man, will return, and although you frustrated me, you cannot escape
his vengeance, should he find you here. Ah, my God! my brain burns--the
deadly potion is at work!'
And thus the miserable woman continued to rave, until the powerful drug
which she had taken fully accomplished its work, and she sank upon the
floor in a state of death-like insensibility.
'Thou art rightly served,' thought Frank, as he contemplated her
prostrate form--'now to penetrate into some of the mysteries of this
infernal den!' Taking the candle from the table, he began his
exploration in that fearful house.
In the apartment which adjoined the chamber he discovered little 'Jack
the Prig,' fast asleep in bed. In the restlessness of slumber, the boy
had partially thrown off the bed-clothes, and he exhibited upon his
naked breast the picture of a gallows, and a man hanging! This appalling
scene had been drawn with India ink, and pricked into the flesh with
needles, so that it never could be effaced. It was the work of the boy's
hideous father, who, not contented with training up his son to a life of
crime, was anxious that he should also carry upon his person, through
life, that fearful representation of a criminal's doom.
'Would it not be a deed of mercy,' thought our hero--'to take the poor
boy from his unnatural parents, and train him up to a life of honesty
and virtue? If I ever get the father in my power, I will look after the
welfare of this unfortunate lad.'
Frank left the room, and descending the stairs, began to explore the
lower apartments of the house. In one, he found a large collection of
tools, comprising every implement used by the villains in their
depredations. There were dark lanterns, crowbars, augers, London
_jimmies_, and skeleton keys, for burglary; also, spades, pickaxes, and
shovels, which were probably used in robbing graves, a crime which at
that period was very common in New York. A large quantity of clothing of
all kinds hung upon the walls, from the broadcloth suit of the gentleman
down to the squalid rags of the beggar; these garments Frank conjectured
to be _disguises_, a supposition which was confirmed by the masks, false
whiskers, wigs and other articles for altering the person, which were
scattered about.
In a small closet which communicated with this room, our hero found dies
for coining, and a press for printing counterfeit bank-notes; and a
table drawer, which he opened containing a quantity of false coin,
several bank-note plates, and a package of counterfeit bills, which had
not yet been signed.
Having sufficiently examined these interesting objects, Frank passed
into the next room, which was of considerable extent. It was almost
completely filled with goods of various kinds, evidently the proceeds of
robberies. There were overcoats, buffalo robes, ladies' cloaks and furs,
silk dresses, shawls, boxes of boots and shoes, cases of dry goods, and
a miscellaneous assortment of articles sufficient to furnish out a large
store. The goods in that room were worth several thousands of dollars.
'I shall now seek to discover the _secret outlet_ of the Dark Vaults,'
thought Frank, as he descended into the cellar of the house. Here he
gazed about him with much interest; the cellar was damp and gloomy and
his entrance with the light disturbed a legion of rats, which went
scampering off in every direction, from a corner in which they had
collected together; as the young man approached that corner, a fetid,
sickening odor saluted his nostrils and a fearful thought flashed across
his mind; a moment afterwards, his blood curdled with horror, for before
him lay the dead body of a man, entirely naked, and far advanced in
state of decomposition; and upon that putrefying corpse had the swarm of
rats been making their terrible banquet!
Sick with horror and disgust, Frank precipitately retreated from the
loathsome and appalling spectacle, satisfied that he had beheld one of
the Dead Man's murdered victims; and he shuddered as he thought that
such might have been _his_ fate!
In the centre of the cellar an apparatus of singular appearance
attracted his notice; and approaching it he instantly became convinced
that this was the _secret outlet_ for which he sought. Four strong,
upright posts supported two ponderous iron crossbars, to which were
attached four ropes of great thickness and strength, these ropes were
connected with a wooden platform, about six feet square; and beneath the
platform was a dark and yawning chasm.
Closely examining this apparatus, our hero saw that by an ingenious
contrivance, a person standing on the platform could, by turning a
crank, raise or lower himself at will. He cautiously approached the edge
of the chasm, and holding down the light, endeavored to penetrate
through the darkness; but in vain--he could see nothing, though he could
faintly hear a dull, sluggish sound like that produced by the flowing of
a vast body of muddy water, and at the same time an awful stench which
arose from the black gulf, compelled him to return a short distance.
'The mystery is solved,' he thought--'that fearful hole leads to the
subterranean sewers of the city, and also to the Dark Vaults beyond
them. By means of that platform, the villains of the _Infernal Regions_
below, can pass to and from their den with facility and safety.'
At this moment he heard the vast bell of the City Hall proclaiming the
hour of midnight; and he remembered that the woman had told him that her
husband, the Dead Man, would return in an hour from that time. At first
it occurred to him to await the miscreant's coming, and endeavor to
capture him--but then he reflected that the Dead Man might return
accompanied by other villains, in which case the plan would not only be
impracticable, but his own life would be endangered.
'And even were the villain to come back alone,' thought Frank, 'were I
to spring upon him, he might give some signal which would bring to his
aid his band of desperadoes from the Vaults below. No--I must not
needlessly peril my own life; I will depart from the house now,
satisfied for the present with the discoveries I have made, and trusting
to be enabled at no distant time to come here with a force sufficient to
overcome the hideous ruffian and all his band.'
Leaving the cellar, he traversed the entry and attempted to open the
front door; but to his surprise it was securely locked, nor could all
his efforts push back the massive bolts which held it fast. He
re-entered the room, and examining the windows, found them furnished
with thick iron bars like the windows of a prison, so that to pass
through them was impossible; and further investigation resulted in the
unpleasant conviction that he was a prisoner in that dreadful house,
with no immediate means of escape.
He again descended into the cellar, and began seriously to reflect upon
the realities of his situation. He was a young man of determination and
courage: yet he could not entirely subdue those feelings of uneasiness
and alarm which were natural under the circumstances. He was alone, at
midnight, in that abode of crime and murder; near him lay the corpse of
an unfortunate fellow creature, who had without a doubt fallen by the
hand of an assassin; he was momentarily expecting the return of that
arch-miscreant, who would show him no mercy; a deep, unbroken silence,
and an air of fearful mystery, reigned in that gloomy cellar and
throughout that awful house--and before him, dark and yawning as the
gate of hell, was that black and infernal pit which led to the
subterranean caverns of the Dark Vaults, far below.
'I will sell my life dearly, at all events,' thought our hero, as he
drew a bowie knife from his breast, and felt its keen, glittering edge;
then impelled by a sudden thought, he advanced to the mouth of the pit,
and cut the four ropes, which sustained the wooden platform, so nearly
asunder, that they would be almost sure to break with a slight
additional weight.
He had scarcely accomplished this task, when a strange, unnatural cry
resounded throughout the cellar--a cry so indescribably fearful that it
chilled his blood with horror. It was almost instantly followed by a low
and melancholy wail, so intense, so solemn, so profoundly expressive of
human misery, that Frank was convinced that some unfortunate being was
near him, plunged in deepest anguish and distress.
In a few moments the sound entirely ceased, and silence resumed its
reign; then Frank, actuated by the noble feelings of his generous
nature, said, in a loud voice--
'If there is any unhappy creature who now hears me, and who needs my
charitable aid, let him or her speak, that I may know where to direct my
search.'
No answer was returned to this request; all was profoundly silent.
Frank, however, was determined to fathom the mystery; accordingly, he
began a careful search throughout the cellar, and finally discovered in
an obscure corner an iron door, which was secured on the outside by a
bolt--to draw back this bolt and throw open this door, was but the work
of a moment; and our hero was about to enter the cell thus revealed,
when a hideous being started from the further end of the dungeon, and
with an awful yell rushed out into the cellar, and hid itself in a deep
embrasure of the wall.
Whether this creature were human or not, the rapidity of its flight
prevented Frank from ascertaining, he cautiously advanced to the place
where it had concealed itself, and by the dim light of the lamp which he
carried, he saw, crouching down upon the cold, damp earth, a _living
object_ which appalled him; it was a human creature, but so horribly and
unnaturally deformed, that it was a far more dreadful object to behold
than the most loathsome of the brute creation.
It was of pygmy size, its shrunk limbs distorted and fleshless, and its
lank body covered with filthy rags; its head, of enormous size, was
entirely devoid of hair; and the unnatural shape as well as the
prodigious dimensions of that bald cranium, betokened beastly idiocy.
Its features, ghastly and terrible to look upon, bore a strange
resemblance to those of the _Dead Man_! and its snake-like eyes were
fixed upon Frank with the ferocity of a poisonous reptile about to
spring upon its prey.
'Who art thou?' demanded our hero, as he surveyed the hideous object
with horror and disgust.
It answered not, but again set up its low and melancholy wail. Then with
extraordinary agility, it sprang from its retreat, and bounding towards
the dungeon, entered, and crouched down in one corner, making the cellar
resound with its awful shrieks.
''Tis more beast than human,' thought Frank--'I will fasten it in its
den, or it may attack me;' and closing the door, he secured it with the
bolt. As he did so, he heard the deep-toned bell peal forth the hour
of--_one_!
'It is the hour appointed for the return of the Dead Man!' said our hero
to himself, with a shudder; and instantly it occurred to him that he
might have descended to the Dark Vaults and escaped that way, had he not
cut the ropes which supported the platform. But then he reflected that
on reaching the Vaults he would be almost certain to fall into the power
of the villains assembled there; and he ceased to regret having cut the
ropes.
His attention was suddenly arrested by observing the platform descend
into the abyss, moved by an unseen agency; for the apparatus was so
contrived, that a person in the Vaults below could lower or raise the
platform at will, by means of a rope connected with it.
Frank had anticipated that the Dead Man would enter the house through
the front door; but he now felt convinced that the miscreant was about
to ascend on the platform from the Vaults; and he said to himself--
''Tis well--these almost severed ropes will not sustain the villain's
weight, and if he attains to any considerable height, and then falls,
his instant death is certain.'
The platform reached the bottom of the abyss--a short pause ensued, and
then it began slowly to ascend; higher, higher it mounted, until our
hero, fearing that the rope might not break, was about to cut it again,
when a yell of agony reached his ear from the depths of the pit, and at
the same moment the slackened condition of the rope convinced him that
the platform had fallen. He listened, and heard a sound like the
plunging of a body into water; then all was silent as the grave.
'The villain has met with a just doom,' thought Frank; and no longer
apprehensive of the return of his mortal enemy, he left the cellar, and
entering the room above, in which the stolen goods were deposited, threw
himself upon a heap of clothes and garments, and fell into a deep
slumber.
It was broad daylight when he awoke; and starting up, his eyes rested
upon an object which caused him to recoil with horror. The woman whom he
had left insensible from the effects of the powerful drug which she had
taken, was standing near him, her eyes rolling with insanity, her hair
dishevelled, her clothes torn to rags and her face scratched and
bleeding, she having in her own madness inflicted the wounds with her
own nails.
'Ha!' she exclaimed--'had'st thou not awakened, I would have killed
thee! Thy heart would have made me a brave breakfast, and I would have
banqueted on thy life-blood! Go hence--go hence! thou shalt not unfold
the awful mysteries of this charnel-house!--Ye must not behold the
murdered man who lies rotting in the cellar, nor open the dark dungeon
of the deformed child of crime!--'tis the hideous offspring of hideous
parents--my child and the Dead Man's! 'Twas a judgement from Heaven,
that monstrous being; we dare not kill it, so we shut it up from the
light of day. Go hence--go hence, or I will fly at thee and tear thine
eyes out!'
Frank left the room, and ascended to the chamber, hoping to find a key
which would enable him to unlock the front door; and in a table drawer
he discovered one, which he doubted not would release him from his
imprisonment. Before departing, he wrote the following words on a scrap
of paper:--
'If the villain known as the _Dead Man_ still lives, he is
informed that he is indebted to _me_ for his unexpected fall
last night. Let the miscreant tremble--for I have penetrated
the mysteries of this infernal den, and my vengeance, if not
ordinary justice, will speedily overtake him!
SYDNEY.'
Leaving the note upon the table, Frank descended the stairs, unlocked
the door, and departed from that abode of crime and horror.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: A _stool pigeon_ is a person who associates with thieves,
in order to betray their secrets to the police officers, in reference to
any robbery which has been committed, or which may be in contemplation.
As a reward for furnishing such information, the _stool pigeon_ is
allowed to steal and rob, _on his own account_, with almost perfect
impunity.]