_Wherein one of the Characters in this Drama maketh a sudden and rapid
exit from the stage._
In an upper apartment of an old, rickety wooden building in Ann street,
two men were seated at a rough deal table, engaged in smoking long pipes
and discussing the contents of a black bottle. Not to keep the reader in
suspense, we may as well state at once that these two individuals were
no other than our old acquaintances, the Dead Man and the Doctor.
The room was dusky, gloomy, and dirty, with a multitude of cob-webs
hanging from the ceiling, and the broken panes in the windows stuffed
full of rags. The smoke-dried walls were covered with rude inscriptions
and drawings, representing deeds of robbery and murder; and a hanging
scene was not the least prominent of these interesting specimens of the
'fine arts.' The house was a noted resort for thieves, and the old
harridan who kept it was known to the police as a 'fence,' or one who
purchased stolen goods.
'Yes, Doctor,' cried the Dead Man, with an oath, as he slowly removed
the pipe from his lips, and blew a cloud which curled in fantastic
wreaths to the ceiling--'this state of affairs won't answer: we must
have money. And money we _will_ have, this very night, if our spy,
Stuttering Tom, succeeds in finding out where those Franklin ladies
live. The bottle's out--knock for another pint of _lush_.'
The Doctor obeyed, and in answer to the summons an old, wrinkled,
blear-eyed hag made her appearance with the liquor. This old wretch was
the 'landlady' of the house; she had been a celebrated and beautiful
courtezan in her day, but age and vice had done their work, and she was
now an object hideous to look upon. Though tottering upon the verge of
the grave (she was over eighty,) an inordinate love of money, and an
equal partiality for 'the ardent,' were her characteristics; but
stranger than all, the miserable old creature affected still to retain,
undiminished, those amorous propensities which had distinguished her in
her youth! This horrible absurdity made her act in a manner at once
ludicrous and disgusting; and the Dead Man, being facetiously inclined,
resolved to humor her weakness, and enjoy a laugh at her expense by
pretending to have fallen in love with her.
'By Satan!' he cried, clasping the old crone around the waist--'you look
irresistible to-night, mother: I've half a mind to ravish a kiss from
ye--ha, ha, ha!'
'Have done, now!' exclaimed the hag, in a cracked tone, at the same time
vainly endeavoring to contort her toothless jaws into an engaging
simper, while the Doctor nearly burst with laughter--'have done now, or
I'll slap ye for your impudence. But, faith, ye are such a pleasant
gentleman, that I don't mind bestowing a kiss or two upon ye!'
'You're a gay old lass,' said the Dead Man, without availing himself of
the old lady's kind permission--'you have been a 'high one' in your
time, but your day is nearly over.'
'No, no!' shrieked the old wretch, while her head and limbs quivered
with palsy--'don't say that--I'm young as ever, only a little _shakey_,
or so--I'm not going to die for many, many years to come--ha, ha, ha! a
kiss, love, a kiss--'
The old woman fell to the floor in a paralytic fit, and when they raised
her up, they found that she was dead!
'Devil take the old fool!' cried the Dead Man, throwing the corpse
contemptuously to the floor--'I meant to have strangled her some day,
but I now am cheated of the sport. No matter; drink, Doctor!'
The dead body was removed by several of the wretched inmates of the
house, just as Stuttering Tom entered to announce the result of his
search for the Franklin ladies.
Tom was a short, dumpy specimen of humanity, with red hair, freckled
face, nose of the pug order, and goggle eyes. His dress was picturesque,
if not ragged: his coat and pants were so widely apart, at the waist, as
to reveal a large track of very incorrect linen; and the said coat had
been deprived of one of its tails, an unfortunate occurrence, as the
loss exposed a large compound fracture in the rear of the young
gentleman's trowsers, whereby he was subjected to the remark that he had
'a letter in the post office.' His name was derived from an inveterate
habit of stuttering with which he was afflicted; and he related the
issue of his search somewhat in the following manner:
'You see, I ha-ha-happened to be l-loafing down Wa-Wa-Washington street,
this evening, quite pro-miscus like, ven I seed two vim-vimmen, as vos
gallus ha-handsum, and dr-dressed to kill, a valking along, vich puts me
in m-m-mind of the F-F-Franklin vimmen, as you hired me to f-f-find out.
So I up and f-follers 'em, and by-and-by a f-fellers meets 'em and says,
says he, 'Good evening, Missus and Miss F-F-Franklin.' These is the
werry victims, says I to myself; and I f-f-foller them till they goes
into a house in Wa-Washington street--and here I am.'
'You have done well, Tom,' said the Dead Man, approvingly--'you must now
conduct us to the house in Washington street which the ladies entered:
it is nine o'clock, and time that we should be up and doing.'
Stuttering Tom led the way, and the three issued from the house. Ann
street was 'all alive' at that hour; from every cellar came forth the
sound of a fiddle, and the side-walks were crowded with a motley throng
of Hibernians, Ethiopians, and Cyprians of an inferior order. Talk of
Boston being a moral city! There is villainy, misery and vice enough in
Ann street alone, to deserve for the whole place the fate of Sodom and
Gomorrah.
The Dead Man and the Doctor, under the guidance of Stuttering Tom, soon
reached the house in Washington street where Josephine and her mother
had taken up their residence. The guide was then rewarded and dismissed;
the two adventurers ascended the steps, and one of them rang the
door-bell.
A servant girl answered the summons, and in reply to their inquiries
informed them that the ladies were both in the parlor.
'Show us up there,' said the Dead Man, in a commanding tone, as he
concealed his hideous face behind his upturned coat-collar. The girl
obeyed, and having conducted them up a flight of stairs, ushered them
into an apartment where Josephine and her mother were seated, engaged
there in playing _ecarte_.
Their confusion and terror may easily be imagined, when turning to see
who their visitors were, their eyes rested upon the awful lineaments of
the DEAD MAN!
'Your humble servant, ladies,' said the villain, with a triumphant
laugh--'you see you cannot hide from me, or escape me. Fair Josephine,
you look truly charming--will you oblige me with a private interview?'
'It will be useless,' said Josephine coldly, as she recovered some
portion of her composure--'we have no more money to give you.'
'You can give me something more acceptable than _money_,' rejoined the
other, with a horrible leer--'at our last interview I told you what I
should require at our next. Doctor, I leave you with the voluptuous
mother, while I make court to the beautiful daughter.'
He grasped Josephine violently by the arm, and dragged her from the
room, forced her into an adjoining apartment, and thrust her brutally
upon a sofa, saying with a fearful oath--
'Dare to resist me, and I'll spoil your beauty, miss! Why do you act the
prude with me--_you_, a shameless hussey, who has numbered more amours
than years?'
'Odious ruffian!' exclaimed Josephine, no longer able to control her
indignation--'I view you with contempt and loathing. Sooner than submit
to your filthy embraces, I will dare exposure, and death itself! Think
not to force me to a compliance with your wishes--I will resist you
while life animates my frame. I fear you not, low villain that you are.'
The Dead Man raised his _iron hand_ as if to dash out her brains for her
temerity.--But he checked himself, and surveyed her with a sort of calm
ferocity, as he said--'Young lady, since you are determined to oppose
my wishes, I will not force you. Neither will I kill you; yet my
vengeance shall be more terrible than death. You are beautiful and you
pride yourself upon that beauty--but I will deprive you of your
loveliness. You call me hideous--I will make you hideous as I am. Your
cheeks shall become ghastly, your complexion livid, and your brilliant
eyes shall become sightless orbs--for the curse of _blindness_ shall be
added to your other miseries. Obstinate girl, bid an eternal farewell to
eyesight and beauty, for from this moment you are deprived of both,
forever!'
He drew from his pocket a small phial, and with the quickness of
lightning dashed it in the face of the unfortunate Josephine. It was
shattered in a hundred pieces, and the contents--VITRIOL--ran in her
eyes and down her face, burning her flesh in the most horrible manner.
She shrieked with agony the most intense, and the Doctor rushed into the
room, followed by Mrs. Franklin. They both stood aghast when they beheld
the awful spectacle.
The Doctor was the first to recover his presence of mind; he rushed to
the aid of the burning wretch, and saved her life, though he could not
restore her lost eyesight, or remove the horrible disfigurement of her
burned and scarred visage. Mrs. Franklin was so overcome at her
daughter's misfortune and sufferings that she fell upon the floor
insensible.
At that moment the door of the apartment was violently thrown open, and
a young gentleman entered. The Dead Man and the Doctor turned, and in
the newcomer recognised Frank Sydney!
It will be necessary to explain the mystery of Frank's sudden appearance
at that emergency. A day or two after the suicide of Julia, the body of
that wretched woman was picked up by some fisherman, and conveyed to the
city, where it was immediately recognized as the lady of Mr. Hedge. The
circumstance of her death soon came to the knowledge of our hero; and
while he could not help shedding a tear as he thought of her melancholy
fate (she had once been his wife, and he had once loved her,) he could
not deny to himself that he derived a secret joy from the thought, that
now his hopes with reference to Sophia Franklin were not without some
foundation. Acting upon this impulse, he had taken the earliest
opportunity to call upon the young lady; and at that interview, he had
with his customary frankness, related to her his entire history, and
concluded his narrative by making her an offer of his hand and
heart--and, reader, that honorable offer was accepted with the same
frankness with which it was made. On the evening in question, Frank was
enjoying one of those charming _tete-a-tetes_ with his Sophia, which all
lovers find so delightful, when the agonizing screams of the suffering
Josephine brought him to the room, as we have seen, and he found
himself, to his astonishment, standing face to face with the Dead Man
and the Doctor.
'Why, blood and fury!' cried the former, a gleam of pleasure passing
over his horrid features--'here is the very man of all men upon earth,
whom I most desired to see. Sydney, you are welcome.'
'What damnable villainy have you been at now?' demanded Frank,
recovering his courage and presence of mind, altho' he had reason to
believe that he had fallen into the power of his worst enemy in the
world.
'What business is that of yours?' growled the Dead Man--'Suffice it for
you to know that my _next_ act of villainy will be your assassination.'
Our hero drew a revolver from his pocket, and levelled it at the
villain's head, saying--
'Advance but a step towards me, and you are a _dead man_
indeed--Scoundrel! I am no longer a prisoner in your dungeon vaults, but
free, and able to protect myself against your brutal cruelty. Though you
are aided by the Doctor, whom I once thought my friend, I fear you not,
but dare you to do your worst.'
'You are brave, Sydney,' said the Dead Man, with something like a grim
of admiration--'but I hate you, and you must die. From the first moment
when I met you in the Dark Vaults, to the present time, I have observed
something in you that inspires me with a kind of _fear_--a moral
superiority over my malice and hatred that inflames me with jealous
rage. Even when you were in my power, undergoing my trials and tortures,
I have observed contempt upon your lip and scorn in your eye. I once
called you coward--but you are a man of doubtless courage, and by Satan!
I have half a mind to shake hands with you and call you friend.'
During this harangue, Frank had unconsciously lowered his pistol, not
suspecting that the long speech was merely a ruse of the Dead Man to
spring upon him unawares. While he stood in an attitude poorly
calculated for defence, the miscreant suddenly, with the quickness of
lightning, sprang upon him, and with irresistible force hurled him to
the floor.
But our hero received an aid which was as unexpected as it was welcome;
for the Doctor threw himself upon the Dead Man, grappled him by the
throat, and nearly strangled him. In vain the ruffian struggled--he was
in the grasp of an adversary too powerful and too intrepid to be
successfully resisted by him. Panting and breathless, he was soon
vanquished by his ancient enemy, who, having tied his arms behind him
with a strong cord, regarded him with a look of hatred and contempt.
'Why, Doctor, what means this?' demanded the villain, in astonishment at
having been so desperately attacked by one whom he had lately regarded
as a friend.
'It means, d----n you,' coolly replied the other--'you have been
deceived and foiled. In deserting Mr. Sydney to join _your_ bloody
standard, I acted in accordance with a plan which I had formed to entrap
and conquer you. I know that as long as I remained the professed friend
of Mr. Sydney, you would view me with distrust and fear, and
consequently, that you would be always on the alert to guard against any
attempt of mine to wreak my vengeance on you. So I professed to become
your friend, and pretended to attach myself to your interest, knowing
that a good opportunity would thereby be afforded me to frustrate any
scheme you might form against the life or safety of Mr. Sydney. You see
how well I have succeeded; you are completely in my power, and by
G----d, this night shall witness the termination of your bloody and
infamous career.'
'You surely will not murder me,' said the Dead Man, frightened by the
determined tone and manner of a man whose vengeance he had reason to
dread.
'To take your accursed life will be no murder,' replied the Doctor--'you
are a thousand times worse than a poisonous reptile or a beast of prey,
and to kill you would be but an act of justice. Yet do not flatter
yourself with the prospect of an easy and comparatively painless death;
I have sworn that you shall die a death of lingering torture, and you
will see how well I'll keep my oath. My knowledge as a physician, and
natural ingenuity, have furnished me with a glorious method of
tormenting you; and although you are a master in the art of torture, you
will see how far I have surpassed you.'
'You have, by serving me this trick, proved yourself to be both a liar
and a traitor,' remarked the Dead Man, bitterly.
'Any means,' rejoined the Doctor, calmly--'are justifiable in
overthrowing such an infernal villain as you are; but I see the motive
of your sneer--you wish to enrage me, that I may stab you to the heart
at once, and place you beyond the reach of protracted torment. You shall
fail in this, for I am cool as ice. Before commencing operations upon
you, I must attend professionally to those ladies.'
Mrs. Franklin was easily recovered from her fainting fit;--and the
suffering Josephine received at the skillful hands of the Doctor every
care and attention which her lamentable case demanded. He pronounced her
life in no danger; but alas! her glorious beauty was gone forever--her
face was horribly burnt and disfigured, and her brilliant eyes were
destroyed; she was stone blind!
Thus it is that the wicked are often the instruments of each other's
punishment in this world, as devils are said to torment each other in
the next.
The mother and daughter having been properly looked after, Frank Sydney
took the Doctor aside, and warmly thanked him for his timely and
acceptable aid.
'You have proved yourself to be a true and faithful man,' said he
grasping his friend's hand--'and my unjust opinions in regard to you
have given place to the highest confidence in your integrity and honor.
You have saved my life tonight, and not for the first time. I owe you a
debt of gratitude; and from this moment we are sworn friends. You shall
share my fortune, and move in a sphere of respectability and worth.'
'Mr. Sydney,' said the Doctor, much affected--'do you remember that
night I met you in the Park, and would have robbed you? I was then
moneyless and starving. I will not now stop to relate how I became
reduced to such abject wretchedness, but I must do myself the justice to
say that my downfall was produced by the rascalities of others. Your
liberality to me upon that night was an evidence to my mind that the
world was not entirely heartless and unjust; and tho' I did not
immediately forsake the evil of my ways, yet your kindness softened me,
and laid the foundation of my present reformation.--Noble young man, I
accept the offer of your friendship with gratitude, but I will not share
your fortune. No--my ambition is, to build up a fortune of my own, by
laboring in my profession, in which I am skilled. By following a course
of strict honor and integrity, I may partially retrieve the errors of my
past life.'
'I cannot but commend your resolution,' remarked Frank--'but you must
not refuse to accept from me such pecuniary aid as will be necessary to
establish you in a respectable and creditable manner.--But in regard to
this miscreant here; you actually intend to kill him by slow torture?'
'I do,' replied the Doctor, in a determined manner--'and my only regret
is that I cannot protract his sufferings a year. Do not think me
cold-blooded or cruel, my dear friend; that villain merits the worst
death that man can inflict upon him. If we were to hand him over to the
grasp of the law, for his numerous crimes, his infernal ingenuity might
enable him to escape. Our only security lies in crushing the reptile
while we have him in our trap.'
'I shall not interfere with you in your just punishment of the villain,'
said our hero--'but I must decline being present. The enormous crimes he
had committed, and the wrongs which I have sustained at his hands, will
not allow me to say a single word in his behalf--yet I will not witness
his torments.'
'I understand and respect your scruples; I being a physician, such a
spectacle cannot affect my nerves.--You will please assist me to place
the _subject_ upon this table, and then you can retire.'
They raised the Dead Man from the floor, and placed him on a large table
which stood in the centre of the room. Frank then bade the Doctor a
temporary farewell, and passing through the hall was about to leave the
house, when a servant informed him that Miss Sophia Franklin wished to
see him. He joyfully obeyed the summons, and found the young lady in
deep distress at the condition of her sister Josephine, and very anxious
for an explanation of the terrible cause. Frank stated all he knew of
the matter, and we leave him to the task of consoling her, while we
witness the operations of the Doctor upon his living _subject_.
In the first place, he tied the Dead Man down upon the table so firmly,
that he could not move a hair's breadth. During this process, the
miserable victim, losing all his customary bravado and savage insolence,
begged hard to be killed at once, rather than undergo the torments which
he dreaded. But the Doctor only laughed, and drew from his pocket a case
of surgical instruments; he then produced a small phial, which he held
close to his victim's eyes, and bade him examine it narrowly.
'You see,' said he, 'this little phial?--it contains a slow poison of
peculiar and fearful power. You shall judge of its effects yourself
presently. I will infuse it into your blood, and it will cause you
greater agony than melted lead poured upon your heart.'
'For God's sake, Doctor,' cried the wretch,--'spare me _that_! I have
heard you tell of it before. Will nothing move you? Show me mercy, and I
will reveal to you many valuable and astounding secrets, known only to
me. I will tell you where, within twenty miles of Boston, I have buried
over twenty thousand dollars in gold and silver; I will myself lead you
to the spot and you shall have it all--all! I will furnish you with a
list of fashionable drinking houses in the city, where is sold liquor
impregnated with a slow but deadly poison, which in two years will bring
on a lingering disease, generally thought to be consumption; this
disease always terminates in death, and the whole matter is arranged by
physicians, who thus get a constant and extensive practice. I will take
you to rooms where persons, under the name of 'secret societies,'
privately meet to indulge in the most unnatural and beastly
licentiousness. I will prove to you, by ocular demonstration, that in
_certain cities_ of the Union, not a letter passes through the post
offices, that is not broken open and read, and then re-sealed by a
peculiar process--by which means much private information is gained by
the police, and the most tremendous secrets often leak out, to the
astonishment of the parties concerned. I will communicate to you a
method by which the most virtuous and chaste woman can be made wild with
desire, and easily overcome. I will show you how to make a man drop dead
in the street, without touching him, or using knife or pistol--and not a
mark will be found on his person. I will--'
'That'll do,' said the Doctor, dryly--'the matters you have mentioned
are mostly no secrets to me; and if your object was to gain time and
dissuade me from my purpose, you have signally failed. Villain! your
long career of crime is now about to receive its reward. Prayers and
entreaties shall not avail you; and to put an end to them, as well as to
prevent you from yelling out in your agony--by which people would be
attracted hither--I will take the liberty to _gag_ you.'
In forcing the jaws of the Dead Man widely apart, in order to accomplish
that purpose, the victim contrived to get one of his tormentor's fingers
between his teeth, and it was nearly bitten off ere it could be
disengaged. This enraged the Doctor so that he was about to kill his
enemy instantly, but he checked himself; and having effectually gagged
him, he prepared to commence the terrible ordeal.
Taking a lancet from the case, he made an incision in the subject's
right arm; then, in the wound, he poured a few drops of the contents of
the phial. The effects were instantaneous and terrible; the poison
became infused in every vein of the sufferer's body, and his blood
seemed changed to liquid fire; he writhed in mighty agony--his heart
leaped madly in his breast, in the intensity of his torment--his brain
swam in a sea of fire--his eyes started from their sockets, and blood
oozed from every pore of his body.
These awful results were produced by a wonderful chemical preparation,
known to but few, and first discovered in the days of the Spanish
Inquisition. It was then termed the 'Ordeal of Fire;' and the infernal
vengeance of hell itself could not have produced torment more intense or
protracted; for though it racked every nerve and sinew in the body,
filling the veins with a flood like molten lead, it was comparatively
slow in producing death, and kept the sufferer for several hours
writhing in all the tortures of the damned.
For two mortal hours the miserable wretch endured the torment; while the
Doctor stood over him, viewing him with a fixed gaze and an unmoved
heart. Then he removed the gag from the sufferer's mouth, and poured a
glass of water down his throat, which temporarily assuaged his agony.
'Doctor,' gasped the dying wretch--'for God's sake stab me to the heart,
and end my misery! I am in hell--I am floating in an ocean of fire--my
murdered victims are pouring rivers of blazing blood upon me--my soul is
in flames--my _heart_ is RED HOT! Ah, kill me--kill me!'
The Doctor, after a moment's deliberation, again took an instrument from
his case, and skillfully divided the flesh in the region of the abdomen,
making an incision of considerable extent. He then produced a small
flask of gunpowder, in the neck of which he inserted a straw filled with
the same combustible; and in the end of the straw he fastened a small
slip of paper which he had previously prepared with saltpetre. Having
made these arrangements, he placed the powder flask completely in the
victim's abdomen, leaving the slow match to project slightly from the
wound. The Dead Man was perfectly conscious during this horrible
process, notwithstanding he suffered the most excruciating pain.
'You are going to blow me to atoms, Doctor,' he with difficulty
articulated, as a ghastly smile spread over his hideous features--'I
thank you for it; although I hate and curse you in this my dying hour.
Grant me a moment longer; if the spirits of the dead are allowed to
re-visit the earth, _my_ spirit shall visit you! Ha, ha, ha! In a few
seconds, I shall be free from the power of your torture--free to follow
you like a shadow through life, free to preside in ghastly horror over
your midnight slumbers and to breathe constantly in your ear,
curses--curses--curses!'
'Miserable devil, your blood-polluted spirit will be too strongly bound
to hell, to wander on earth,' said the Doctor, with a contempt not
unmingled with pity. 'Farewell, thou man of many crimes; for the wrongs
you have done me, I forgive you, but human and divine justice have
demanded this sacrifice.'
He ignited a match, touched it to the paper at the end of the straw, and
hastily retreated to the further extremities of the room.
It was an awful moment; slowly the paper burnt towards the straw--so
slowly, that the victim of this awful sacrifice had time to vent his
dying rage in malignant curses, on himself, his tormentor, and his
Maker! The straw is reached--the fire runs down to the powder flask with
a low hiss--and then--
Awful was the explosion that followed; the wretch was torn into a
hundred pieces; his limbs, his brains, his blood were scattered all
about. A portion of the mangled carcass struck the Doctor; the lamp was
broken by the shock and darkness prevailed in the room.
The inmates of the house, frightened at the noise, rushed to the scene
of the catastrophe with lights. Frank Sydney, Sophia and Mrs. Franklin,
as well as several other male and female domestics, entering the
apartment, stood aghast at the shocking spectacle presented to their
gaze. There stood the Doctor, with folded arms and his face stained with
blood; here an arm, here, a blackened mass of flesh; and here, the most
horrible object of all, the mutilated and ghastly head, with the same
expression of malignant hate upon its hideous features as when those
livid lips had last uttered curses!
'The deed is done,' said the Doctor, addressing Sydney, with a grim
smile--'justice has its due at last, and the diabolical villain has gone
to his final account. Summon some scavenger to collect the vile remains,
and bury them in a dung-hill. To give them Christian, decent burial
would be treason to man, sacrilege to the Church, and impiety to God!'
Thus perished the 'Dead Man,' a villain so stupendous, so bloodthirsty
and so desperate that it may well be doubted whether such a monster ever
could have existed. But this diabolical character is not entirely drawn
from the author's imagination; neither is it highly exaggerated;--for
the annals of crime will afford instances of villainy as deep and as
monstrous as any that characterized the career of the 'Dead Man' of our
tale. What, for example, can be more awful or incredible than the
hideous deed of a noted criminal in France, who, having ensnared a
peasant girl in a wood, brutally murdered her, then outraged the corpse,
and afterwards _ate a part of it_? Yet no one will presume to doubt the
fact, as it forms a portion of the French criminal records. Humanity
shudders at such instances of worse than devilish depravity.
Moreover, to show that we have indulged in no improbabilities in
portraying the chief villain of our tale, we assert that a person
bearing that name and the same disfigurement of countenance, _really
existed_ not two years ago. He was renowned for his many crimes, and was
murdered by a former accomplice, in a manner not dissimilar to the death
we have assigned to him in the story.
But we turn from a contemplation of such villains, to pursue a different
and somewhat more agreeable channel.