MICHAEL RUST sat in his office with his arms twined round his
knees, and his chin bowed down to them, like a wild beast crouching
to spring. His thin cheek was thinner than on the day before; his
hair tangled and matted; and, unconsciously, he grated his teeth, and
muttered to himself. But he neither moved, nor changed his position;
and the black flashing eye, which darted hither and thither, never
resting, even for a moment, alone showed that his mind was on the alert.
He was awaiting the return of his messenger, who was exceedingly
dilatory. Step after step came and went. Persons ascended and descended
the stairs; and as the morning advanced, and the hours of business
approached, the sound of out-door bustle increased, until a perfect
current of human beings seemed to pour through the street. Still,
Rust sat there in silence, watching the return of his clerk. Once,
he fancied that he distinguished his voice in the entry. He got up,
opened the door, and looked out; a strange man was loitering in the
passage, but no one else. He shut it, dragged a chair to the middle of
the room, stamped it down heavily, and flung himself into it, gnawing
his fist with impatience. Ha! a step slowly ascended the stairs. He was
certain this time. It was Kornicker. There was no mistaking that heavy,
irregular tread; but, nevertheless, Rust did not stir until the door
opened and Kornicker walked in.
'Your answer!' said Rust, looking at him, as if to read his success in
his features.
'He'll come.'
'When?'
'He didn't say,' replied his clerk, shutting the door by butting his
shoulder against it.
'Did he write?'
'No.'
'Good!' replied Rust, abruptly. 'Any thing else?'
'No. If you're done with me, I'll get my breakfast.'
'Go.'
Kornicker departed, and Rust relapsed into his old attitude,
occasionally biting his nails, or passing his fingers through his
matted hair, or casting a suspicious glance toward the door.
Half an hour had passed, and Rust was absorbed in his own dreams, when
he was startled by a heavy step at his door. He sat up in his chair,
and listened attentively, holding his breath. There was something in
that step which he did not like. It was calm, slow, and deliberate. He
hoped that it would pass on, but it did not. Two hard knocks at the
door followed.
'Come in,' said Rust, without rising.
The door opened, and Harson and Holmes entered. Still Rust sat where
he was, with his black eyes peering from beneath his heavy brows, and
glancing from face to face.
'I'm seeking a Mr. Rust,' said Harson, advancing.
'That's me. My name is Rust,' was the laconic answer.
'And mine is Harson,' replied the other. 'I received this, this
morning,' said he, pointing to the letter which he had received from
Kornicker, 'and have come to keep the appointment proposed in it.'
Rust moved uneasily on his chair, and turned to the lawyer; for some
moments he did not speak; but at last, seeing that no farther efforts
at opening a conversation were made by his visitors, he pointed to
Holmes, and asked:
'Is that gentleman's name Henry Harson, too?'
'No,' replied Harson.
'Then he wasn't invited here. My note was to Henry Harson, and to no
one else. My conversation is to be on private matters, which I don't
choose to make known to every body.'
'Perhaps it is as well that I should go,' said Holmes, without any
trace of anger. 'I'll leave you, Harry, and will return in half an
hour.'
He was leaving the room, when Harson laid his hand on his arm, and
said: 'No, no; don't go, Dick; I can't spare you.' Turning to Rust
he added: 'There are no secrets between this man and me, and I don't
intend that there shall be. So, what you have to say, you must speak
out before us both, or keep it to yourself.'
Rust eyed him for a few moments in silence, with his thin lips closely
compressed, and then looked on the floor, apparently making up his
mind. At length he said, in a slow tone: 'So you _will_ have him here,
will you? Well, be it so. Should what I say hit hard, thank yourself
that one more knows it than is necessary!'
He went to the table and took up a letter, which he handed to Harson.
'Did you write that?'
Harson opened it, and ran his eye over it. 'I did,' said he. 'How came
_you_ by it?'
'No matter. You'll find that out, some day; but not now. I may have
borrowed it, I may have found it, or bought it, or begged it, or stolen
it. Michael Rust, you know, is not too good to do any thing. I think
you hinted something of the kind in it.'
Harson passed the letter to Holmes, who seating himself, deliberately
perused it, and turned it over, and examined the back, with a kind of
habitual caution. There was a smile upon his lips, as he read it, that
puzzled Rust. 'It's not at all improbable that he _may_ have stolen
it,' said he, folding it up, and returning it to Harson. 'The language
is free, but no doubt it is deserved.'
Rust's eyes fairly shot fire, as they encountered the calm, steady gaze
of the old lawyer. But he could not look him down, and he turned away
and said:
'I'm not fond of law, or there is that in that letter which, if
revenged in a court of justice, would fall heavily upon the writer of
it.'
'Perhaps so, perhaps so,' said Holmes, in reply.
'Well, Sir, I'll not waste time about this matter, but will state why
I sent for you; which was, not to ask favors, but to warn you against
the consequence of your own acts. For weeks, a man whose gray hairs
might have brought him prudence, has been at work in the dark, tracking
my footsteps, prying into my actions; throwing out insinuations
against me; asserting nothing openly, but doing every thing in secret;
working with the vilest tools, and frequenting the haunts of the very
offscouring of the earth. It was a noble pursuit,' said he, bitterly,
'and it was worthy of the person upon whom I was at last able to fix
it. That person was _you_,' said he, pointing to Harson. 'Stop, Sir!'
said he, seeing that Harson was going to speak, 'stop, Sir. Your turn
will come. Hear what _I_ yet have to say. I have told you what you have
done; I have told you too that I hated law; but if you think that I am
the man to be hunted down like a beast, and branded in the eyes of the
world, with impunity, you don't know Michael Rust.'
Harson's fingers had gradually closed, until his fist grew into a form
not unlike the head of a sledge-hammer; and for a short time it was a
matter of no small doubt whether it would not light upon the sharp,
fierce face that glared upon him. But a cautioning glance from Holmes
called him to himself; and he replied in a manner which, if less to
the point, was at least more peaceable: 'What I _have_ done, I will
abide by; what I _intend_ to do, you'll find out, and that soon. Take
your own course, and I'll take mine. If you are innocent, you'll not be
injured; if you are not, you'll get your deserts.'
Rust bit his lips at this quiet answer. 'Perhaps,' said he, in a low,
sneering tone, 'since you seem to be so anxious to pry into my conduct,
you may obtain more authentic information by applying to me in person;
and perhaps you will not object to make my misdeeds, of which you hint
so freely, known to _me_, who certainly am interested in learning what
they are.'
Harson drew Holmes to the other end of the room, where they whispered
together for some moments; after which, Holmes turned to Rust, and said:
'Your name, I think, is Michael Rust?'
'That _is_ my name,' replied Rust, bowing stiffly.
'And you accuse Mr. Harson of having endeavored to injure your
character?'
'I do,' replied Rust.
'Perhaps your memory may lead you astray, and his remarks and allusions
may refer to another than yourself.'
Michael Rust turned from him with a contemptuous smile; and then
tapping the letter with his finger, said: 'Ink never forgets. Henry
Harson and his friend may both vary their story, but this is always the
same, and the slanders once uttered against me _here_, are here still
unchanged and unsoftened.'
'Against _you_?' repeated Holmes. 'Read it again. _You_ are not even
mentioned in it.'
Rust glanced at it; and the lawyer thought that for a moment he
observed a change in his features. If so, it was but momentary; for he
answered in the same low tone, though perhaps with even more of a sneer:
'It was a trap, was it? Pah! a child could see through it! It alludes
to one _Henry Colton_. The charges are made against _him_. I'll save
you the trouble of farther manoeuvering to obtain information on that
point, by informing you that Henry Colton and Michael Rust are one.
I'll inform you too that you knew it before you came here. If you wish
it, I'll give you the same admission in writing.'
'I accept your offer,' said Holmes, quietly. 'There's paper,' said he,
pointing to the table; 'write it on that.'
Rust cast an angry glance at him, and seemed to hesitate; but he saw
that he was watched narrowly, and must not shrink. So he sat down and
scrawled something, which he pushed to Holmes.
Holmes read it over slowly: 'Alter _that_; the wording is not clear,'
said he, pointing out a paragraph which did not suit him.
Rust took up the pen and altered the phrase.
'Perhaps _that_ will do?' said he, again handing it to Holmes.
'That's just what I want,' replied the lawyer, running his eye over it,
and apparently weighing every word. 'But you are very forgetful. You
haven't signed it.'
Rust took the paper and signed his name to it. 'I hope you are
satisfied. I suppose you have me now,' said he, with a sneer.
'I think I _have_,' replied Holmes, folding up the paper, and putting
it in his pocket. 'Have you any farther remarks to make to Mr. Harson
or myself? What you have done has been of much service, and will save
us a great deal of trouble.'
'None,' replied Rust; 'I sent for _him_,' said he, pointing to Harson,
'to let him know that I was aware of his proceedings, and to warn him
that I was prepared to defend myself; and that if he persisted in his
attacks upon me, he would do so at his peril.'
'It is well,' said Holmes. 'It's frank in you, and no doubt Mr. Harson
feels grateful. And now that you have finished, perhaps you will listen
to a strange tale, which I am going to narrate to you. I wish you to
pay particular attention, as you may find it interesting. It's quite
romantic, but strictly true.'
'Once upon a time,' (that's the way stories begin, I think,) 'there
were two brothers living at a place far from this city; the names of
whom were George and Henry Colton. The former received a large property
from a distant relative; while the means of the latter were limited;
so much so, that but for the liberality of his elder brother, he would
have found it utterly impossible to live, in the style and manner in
which he always did and still is accustomed to live.'
'Well, Sir, does this refer to me?' said Rust; 'and if it does, and is
true, what then?'
'I have not finished,' replied Holmes. 'You shall hear the rest.
Shortly after the accession of George Colton to this property, he
married; but previous to doing so, to secure his brother against want,
he settled upon him property sufficient to produce him a handsome
income.'
'Well, Sir,' said Rust, 'what then?'
'You shall hear,' replied Holmes. 'By this marriage George Colton had
two children, who in the course of law would have inherited his entire
property, had they been living at the time of his death. These children
had reached the ages of two or three years, when they were lost in a
very singular manner. They had been left alone by their nurse, in a
room in their father's house; and when she returned, after the lapse
of a very few minutes, they were gone; and from that day to this
their parents have had no tidings of them. Search was made in every
direction; rewards were offered; persons were employed in all parts of
the country, and descriptions of the missing children were placarded
in every quarter. No one was more earnest and untiring in his efforts
to find them than Henry Colton, the younger brother; for he remembered
only his brother's past kindness; entirely forgetting, that if these
children were dead he would, in all probability, receive his brother's
vast property. But he was equally unsuccessful with the others. By
degrees, hope grew fainter, and the efforts of all, except this noble
younger brother, relaxed; but he travelled, wrote, had agents employed
in every direction, and, I am told, is still endeavoring to unravel
this mystery. And now,' said he, in a low, stern tone, 'shall I tell
you the reason why he failed? It was this. The agents employed by him
were put on a false scent; and although a high reward was offered for
the discovery of the children, a higher one was paid for keeping the
place of their concealment undiscovered. Shall I tell you,' added the
lawyer, in the same tone, 'who paid the bribe? That same noble Henry
Colton, the younger brother; and what's more, that same man sometimes
bore the name of Michael Rust. All this can be proved beyond the shadow
of a doubt, and will be, in a court of justice, if we are compelled to
do it.'
The lawyer paused, and looked Rust steadily in the face.
'Well, Sir,' said Rust, 'part of what you say is true. I know that the
children were lost, I know that I did what I could to find them. As
to the rest, it is false, and I care nothing for it. They are dead, I
fear.'
'Not quite,' replied Holmes. 'One of them is already rescued; so that
Michael Rust's hopes and schemes are thwarted; and his only chance to
escape the arm of the law is to give up the other, or to tell where he
is.'
Rust turned toward him, and looking him steadily in the face, said:
'Well, Sir, if this be true I'm glad of it; but if some designing
scoundrel is desirous of palming off his own brats on an honest man,
to swindle him out of his property, let him beware, lest he run his
legs into shackles. For my part, I've no doubt that the whole tale is
a fabrication of that old man's,' said he, pointing to Harson, 'got up
for no honest purpose.'
'That's false!' replied Holmes, sternly. 'Lie as you will; deny as
stoutly as you please; I tell you that what I have said is true, and
that you are the man.'
Rust grew deadly pale, but said nothing.
'And I tell you again,' said Holmes, in the same stern voice, 'that
your only hope of escaping punishment is in giving up the remaining
child, or in giving such information as may lead to his discovery. Do
that, and we will show you all the favor we can.'
'Nay, more,' added Harson. 'We will never let it be known what you had
to do with it. We'll let it be supposed that the children were stolen,
and found. We will keep it quiet, won't we, Ned?' said he, walking up
to the lawyer, and laying his hand on his shoulder.
'You've said so, and your promise must be kept,' replied Holmes. 'I
shouldn't have made it. But you must decide at once.'
Michael Rust had sat as still as a statue, merely turning his eyes from
one to the other, as they spoke.
'Have you done?' asked he, in a voice as quiet and composed as if the
threats just uttered had no reference to himself.
'You have heard all that we have to offer,' said Holmes.
'You're very kind,' replied Rust; 'you're _very_ kind; but you don't
_know_ Michael Rust. He accepts favors from no man. There, there--go!
He values your threats and promises alike; and neither the one nor
the other will turn him one inch from his own course, to aid you in
your dishonest purpose. It's against his conscience. Good morning. Our
interview is ended, I think. I'm sorry to see gray hairs so steeped in
depravity.'
'Michael Rust,' said Holmes, turning to him, 'you have sealed your own
doom. I'm glad you've rejected our offers, and I now withdraw them.
You're unworthy of them; and you shall have no other grace than what
the law extends to a felon.'
Rust bowed. 'You're kind. I shall not trouble you to repeat the offer.
As for the grace extended to felons, I believe there is a law which
makes a conspiracy to defraud, a felony likewise. It takes three to
make a conspiracy, in law; but I have no doubt you have abettors.
Perhaps you had better examine the matter. I wish you good morning,
gentlemen; I wish to be alone.'
Rust sat without moving, until the sound of their footsteps descending
the stairs was lost, and then he sprang to his feet.
'Now then,' exclaimed he, 'I know where I am! Now I can see where to
strike. Ha! ha! We'll see who conquers, Harry Harson or Michael Rust--a
desperate man, who has no alternative but to succeed or die. Ho! ho! I
know where the mine is to be sprung; and I will countermine!'
Listless, desponding, and irresolute as to his course, as he had been
before his interview with Harson, all trace of it had disappeared now.
He had decided upon the steps to be taken; and, desperate as they were,
he was not the man to hesitate. The anxiety which had borne him down,
disappeared as he ascertained the extent of his danger, and was able
to nerve himself to cope with it; and his manner was not only cheerful
but merry, and his eye shone with a self-confidence not unlike that of
a gladiator preparing for a conflict in which he or his adversary must
perish.
Lingering in his office only long enough to give his two visitors time
to get some distance off, he put on his hat, locked the door, placed
the key over it, so that Kornicker might know where to find it, and
sallied out into the street.