NIGHT-HAWKS
Lord Bearwarden's groom of the chambers, a person by no means
deficient in self-confidence, owned that he was mystified. Amongst
all the domestic dissensions with which his situation had made him
familiar, he could recall nothing like his present experience. This
bringing home of a shabby woman out of the street and ordering the
best bedroom for her reception; this visit of a beautiful young person
so exactly resembling his mistress that, but for the evidence of his
own senses, when he brought in tea and found them together, he could
have sworn it was her ladyship; this general confusion of household
arrangements, and culpable indifference to the important ceremony of
dinner, forced him to admit that he was in a position of which he
had no preconceived idea, and from which he doubted whether he could
extricate himself with the dignity essential to his office.
Returning to his own department, and glancing at the letter-box in the
hall, he reflected with satisfaction how his professional duties
had been scrupulously fulfilled, and how in accordance with his
misconception of Lord Bearwarden's orders, every packet that reached
the house had been forwarded to its master without delay.
Hence it came to pass, that the vexed and angry husband received in
due course of post a letter which puzzled him exceedingly.
He had only just digested Tom Ryfe's unwelcome missive, announcing
somewhat vaguely that the revenge for which he panted must be delayed
two or three days at least, and had cursed, energetically enough,
his own friend's mismanagement of the affair, with the scruples
entertained by the other side, when a fresh budget was placed in his
hands, and he opened the envelopes as people often do, without looking
at their addresses: thus it fell out, that he read the anonymous
letter directed to his wife, asking for a meeting that same night, in
the vicinity of his own house.
"A cruel mystery has deprived you of your husband." What could
it mean? He studied the brief communication very attentively,
particularly that first line. And a vague hope rose in his loving,
generous heart, that he might have judged her too harshly after all.
It was but the faintest spark, yet he tried hard to kindle it into
flame. The wariest rogue is never armed on all sides. He is sure to
forget some trifling precaution, that, left unguarded, is like the
chink in a shutter to let in the light of day. Lord Bearwarden
recognised the same hand that had penned the anonymous letter he
received on guard--this argued a plot of some sort. He resolved to
sift the matter thoroughly, and instead of forwarding so mysterious a
request to his wife, repair to the indicated spot in person, and there
by threats, bribery, compulsion, any or all means in his power, arrive
at a true solution of the mystery.
It was a welcome distraction, too, this new idea, with which to while
away the weary interminable day. It seemed well perhaps, after all,
that the duel had been postponed. He might learn something to-night
that would change the whole current of his actions, if not, let Mr.
Stanmore look to himself!
That gentleman, in the meantime, had completely forgotten Lord
Bearwarden's existence--had forgotten Mr. Ryfe's visit the night
before at his club, the unintelligible quarrel, the proposed meeting,
everything but that Nina was lost. Lost! a stray lamb, helpless in the
streets of London! His blood ran cold to think of it. He hastened down
to Putney, and indeed only knew that he had made so sure of finding
her there, by his disappointment to learn she had not returned home.
It made his task no easier that Aunt Susannah was in the garden when
he reached the house, and he had to dissemble his alarm in presence of
that weak-minded and affectionate spinster. "He was passing by," he
said, "on his way to town, and only looked in (he couldn't stay a
moment) to know if they had any message to--to their nephew. He was
going straight from here to the painting-room."
"How considerate!" said Aunt Susannah; not without reason, for it was
but this morning they parted with Simon, and they expected him back to
dinner. "We have a few autumn flowers left. I'll just run in, and
get the scissors to make up a nosegay. It won't take ten minutes. O!
nothing like ten minutes! You can give it to poor Simon with our dear
love. He's so fond of flowers! and Nina too. But perhaps you know
Nina's tastes as well as we do, and indeed I think they're very
creditable to her, and she's not at all a bad judge!"
Then the good lady, shaking her grey curls, smiled and looked knowing,
while Dick cursed her below his breath, for a grinning old idiot, and
glared wildly about him, like a beast in a trap seeking some way of
escape. It was provoking, no doubt, to be kept talking platitudes to a
silly old woman in the garden, while every moment drifted his heart's
treasure farther and farther into the uncertainty he scarcely dared to
contemplate.
Some women are totally deficient in the essentially feminine quality
of tact. Aunt Susannah, with a pocket-handkerchief tied round her
head, might have stood drivelling nonsense to her visitor for an hour,
and never found out he wanted to get away. Fortunately, she went
indoors for her scissors, and Dick, regardless of the proprieties,
made his escape forthwith, thus avoiding also the ignominy of carrying
back to London a nosegay as big as a chimney-sweep's on May-day.
Hastening to the painting-room, his worst fears were realised. Nina
had not returned. Simon, too, began to share his alarm, and not
without considerable misgivings did the two men hold counsel on their
future movements.
It occurred to them at this juncture, that the maid-of-all-work
below-stairs might possibly impart some information as to the exact
time when the young lady left the house. They rang for that domestic
accordingly, and bewildered her with a variety of questions in vain.
Had she seen Miss Algernon during the morning? She was to think, and
take time, and answer without being frightened.
"Miss Algernon! Lor! that was her as come here most days, along o'
him," with a backward nod at Dick. "No--she hadn't a-seen her to-day,
she was sure. Not _particler_, that was. Not more nor any other day."
"Had she seen her at all?"
"O, yes! she'd seen her at all. In course, you know, she couldn't be
off of seeing her at all!"
"When did she see her?"
"When? O! last week, every day a'most. And the week afore that too!
She wasn't a-goin' to tell a lie!"
"Then she hadn't seen her this morning?"
"Yes, she'd seen her this morning. When she come in, you know, along
o' the other gentleman." Here a dive of the shock head at Simon, and
symptoms of approaching emotion.
"Why you said you hadn't at first!" exclaimed Dick, perplexed and
provoked.
Forthwith a burst of sobs and tears.
"Compose yourself, my good girl," said the painter kindly. "We don't
want to hurry nor confuse you. We are in great distress ourselves.
Miss Algernon went out, we believe, to take a walk. She has not
returned here, nor gone home. It would help us very much if we knew
the exact time at which she left the house, or could find anybody who
saw her after she went away."
If you want a woman to help you, even a maid-of-all-work, tell her
your whole story, and make no half-confidences: the drudge brightened
up through her tears, and assumed a look of intelligence at once.
"Lor!" said she, "why didn't ye say so? In course I see the young
lady, as I was a-fetchin' in the dinner beer. She'd a-got her bonnet
on, I took notice, and was maybe goin' for a walk, or to get a few
odds and ends, or such like."
Here a full stop with a curtsey. The men looked at each other and
waited.
"She went into a shop round the corner, for I seen her myself. A
stationer's shop it were. An' I come home then, with the beer, an'
shut to the door, an' I couldn't tell you no more; no, not if you was
to take and kill me dead this very minute!"
Stronger symptoms of agitation now appearing, Simon thought well
to dismiss this incoherent witness, and proceed at once to the
stationer's shop in quest of further intelligence. Its proprietor was
ready to furnish all the information in his power.
"Had a lady answering their description been in his shop?" "Well, a
great many ladies come backwards and forwards, you know. Trade wasn't
very brisk just now, but there was always something doing in the fancy
stationery line. It was a light business, and most of his customers
were females. His 'missis' didn't take much notice, but he happened to
be something of a physiognomist himself, and a face never escaped him.
A very beautiful young lady, was it? Tall, pale, with dark eyes and
hair. Certainly, no doubt, that must be the party. Stepped in about
dinner-time; seemed anxious and in a hurry, as you might say; didn't
take any order from her,--the young lady only asked as a favour to
look into their Court Guide. There it lay, just as she left it.
Singular enough, another party had come in afterwards to write a
letter, and took the same address, he believed, right at the foot of
the column; these were trifles, but it was his way to notice trifles.
He was a scientific man, to a certain extent, and in science, as they
probably knew, there were no such things as trifles. He remembered a
curious story of Sir Isaac Newton. But perhaps the gentlemen were in a
hurry."
The gentlemen _were_ in a hurry. Dick Stanmore with characteristic
impetuosity had plunged at the Court Guide, to scan the page at which
it lay open with eager eyes. At the foot of the column, said this man
of science. To be sure, there it was, Barsac, Barwise, Barzillai,
Bearwarden--the very last name in the page. And yet what could Nina
want at Lord Bearwarden's house? Of all places in London why should
she go there? Nevertheless, in such a hopeless search, the vaguest
hint was welcome, the faintest clue must be followed out. So the two
men, standing in earnest colloquy, under the gas-lamps, resolved to
hunt their trail as far as Lord Bearwarden's residence without further
delay.
The more precious are the moments, the faster they seem to pass. An
autumn day had long given place to night, ere they verified this
last piece of intelligence, and acquired some definite aim for their
exertions; but neither liked to compare notes with the other, nor
express his own disheartening reflection that Nina might be wandering
so late, bewildered, lonely, and unprotected, through the labyrinths
of the great city.
In the meantime, Gentleman Jim and his confederate were fully
occupied with the details necessary to carry their infamous plot into
execution. The lawyer had drawn out from the bank all the ready money
he could lay hands on, amounting to several hundred pounds. He
had furnished Jim with ample funds to facilitate his share of the
preparations, and he had still an hour or two on hand before the
important moment arrived. That interval he devoted to his private
affairs, and those of the office, so that his uncle should be
inconvenienced as little as possible by an absence which he now hoped
might be prolonged for a considerable time.
It had been dark for more than an hour ere the accomplices met again,
equipped and ready for the work they had pledged themselves to
undertake.
Jim, indeed, contrary to his wont, when "business," as he called it,
was on hand, seemed scarcely sober; but to obtain the use of the
vehicle he required without the company of its driver, he had found
it necessary to ply the latter with liquor till he became insensible,
although the drunken man's instincts of good-fellowship bade him
insist that his generous entertainer should partake largely of the
fluids consumed at his expense. To drink down a London cabman, on
anything like fair terms, is an arduous task, even for a housebreaker,
and Jim's passions were roused to their worst by alcohol long before
he arrived with his four-wheeled cab at the appointed spot where he
was to wait for Tom Ryfe.
How he laughed to himself while he felt the pliant life-preserver
coiled in his great-coat pocket--the long, keen, murderous knife
resting against his heart. A fiend had taken possession of the man.
Already overleaping the intervening time, ignoring everything but the
crime he meditated, his chief difficulty seemed how he should dispose
of Tom's mutilated body ere he flew to reap the harvest of his guilt.
He chuckled and grinned with a fierce, savage sense of humour, while
he recalled the imperious manner in which Mr. Ryfe had taken the
initiative in their joint proceedings; as if they originated in his
own invention, were ordered solely for his own convenience; and the
tone of authority in which that gentleman had warned him not to be
late.
"It's good! That is!" said Jim, sitting on the box of the cab, and
peering into the darkness, through which a gas-lamp glimmered with
dull, uncertain rays, blurred by the autumn fog. "You'd like to be
master, you would, I dare say, all through the job, and for me to be
man! You'd best look sharp about it. I'll have that blessed life of
yours afore the sun's up to-morrow, and see who'll be master then. Ay,
and missis too! Hooray! for the cruel eyes, and the touch-me-not airs.
The proud, pale-faced devil! as thought Jim wasn't quite the equals of
the dirt beneath her feet. Steady! Here he comes."
And looming through the fog, Mr. Ryfe approached with cautious,
resolute step; carrying a revolver in his pocket, prepared to use it,
too, on occasion, with the fearless energy of a desperate man.
"Is it all ready, Jim?" said he in a whisper. "You haven't forgot the
gag? Nor the shawl to throw round her head? The least mistake upsets a
job like this."
For answer, Jim descended heavily from his seat, and holding the
cab-door open, pointed to the above-named articles lying folded on the
front seat.
"You'll drive, master," said he, with a hoarse chuckle. "You knows
the way. First turn to the left. I'll ride inside, like a lord, or a
fashionable doctor, and keep my eye on the tackle."
"It's very dark," continued Tom uneasily. "But that's all in our
favour, of course. You know her figure as well as I do. Don't forget,
now. I'll drive close to the pavement, and the instant we stop, you
must throw the shawl over her head, muffle her up, and whip her in.
This beggar can gallop, I suppose."
"He's a thoroughbred 'un," answered Jim, with a sounding pat on the
horse's bony ribs. "Leastways, so the chap as I borrowed him off swore
solemn. He was so precious drunk, I'm blessed if I think he knowed
what he meant. But howsoever, I make no doubt the critter can go when
it's pushed."
Thus speaking, Jim helped the other to mount the box, and placed
himself inside with the door open, ready to spring like a tiger when
he should catch sight of his prey.
The streets of the great city are never so deserted as an hour or
two after nightfall, and an hour or two before dawn. Not a single
passenger did they meet, and only one policeman; while the cab with
its desperate inmates rattled and jolted along on this nefarious
enterprise.
It was stopped at last, close to the footway in a dimly-lighted
street, within a hundred yards of Lord Bearwarden's house, which stood
a few doors off round the corner.
A distant clock struck the hour. That heavy clang seemed to dwell on
the gloomy stillness of the atmosphere, and both men felt their nerves
strangely jarred by the dull, familiar sound.
Their hearts beat fast. Tom began to wish he had adopted some less
unconventional means of attaining his object, and tried in vain to
drive from his mind the punishments awarded to such offences as he
meditated, by the severity of our criminal code.
Jim had but one feeling, with which heart and brain were saturated.
In a few minutes he would see her again! In a new character,
possibly--tearful, humbled, supplicating. No; his instincts told him
that not even the last extremity of danger would force a tear from
those proud eyes, nor bow that haughty head an inch. How this wild,
fierce worship maddened him! So longing, yet so slavish--so reckless,
so debased, yet all the while cursed with a certain leavening of the
true faith, that drove him to despair. But come what might, in a
few minutes he would see her again. Even at such a time, there was
something of repose and happiness in the thought.
So the quasi-thoroughbred horse went to sleep and the men waited;
waited, wondering how the lagging minutes could pass so slow.
Listen! a light footstep round the corner. The gentle rustle of
a woman's dress. A tall, slight figure gliding yonder under the
gas-lamp, coming down the street, even now, with head erect, and easy,
undulating gait.
The blood rose to Jim's brain till it beat like strokes from a
sledge-hammer. Tom shortened the reins, and tightened his grasp round
the whip.
Nearer, nearer, she came on. The pure, calm face held high aloft, the
pliant figure moving ever with the same smooth, graceful gestures.
Fortune favoured them; she stopped when she reached the cab, and
seemed about to engage it for her journey.
The men were quick to see their advantage. Jim, coiled for a spring,
shrank into the darkest corner of the vehicle. Tom, enacting driver,
jumped down, and held the door to help her in.
Catching sight of the dark figure on the front seat, she started back.
The next moment, there rose a faint stifled shriek, the shawl was over
her head. Jim's powerful arms wound themselves tight round her body,
and Tom clambered in haste to the box.
But quick feet had already rained along that fifty yards of pavement.
A powerful grasp was at the driver's throat, pulling him back between
the wheels of the cab; and he found himself struggling for life with a
strong, angry man, who swore desperately, while two more figures ran
at speed up the street.
Tom's eyes were starting, his tongue was out.
"Jim, help me!" he managed to articulate. "I'm choking."
"You infernal scoundrel!" exclaimed his antagonist, whose fury seemed
redoubled by the sound of that familiar voice: the grasp, closing
round Tom's neck like iron, threatened death unless he could get free.
An instinct of self-preservation bade him pluck at his revolver. He
got it out at the moment when Jim, setting his back to the door to
secure his captive, dealt with the heavy life-preserver a blow at the
assailant's head, which fortunately only reached his shoulder. The
latter released Tom's throat to get possession of the pistol. In the
struggle it went off. There was a hideous blasphemy, a groan, and a
heavy fall between the wheels of the cab.
Ere the smoke cleared away two more auxiliaries appeared on the scene.
With Simon Perkins's assistance, Lord Bearwarden had little difficulty
in pinioning his late antagonist, while Dick Stanmore, having lifted
the imprisoned lady out of the cab, over the housebreaker's prostrate
body, held her tightly embraced, in a transport of affection
intensified by alarm.
Lord Bearwarden, usually so collected, was now utterly stupefied and
amazed. He looked from Tom Ryfe's white face, staring over the badge
and great-coat of a London cabman, to the sinking form of his wife--as
he believed--in the arms of her lover, clinging to him for protection,
responding in utter shamelessness to his caresses and endearments.
"Mr. Stanmore!" he exclaimed, in a voice breathless from exertion, and
choking with anger. "You and I have an account to settle that cannot
be put off. Lady Bearwarden, I will see you home. Come with me this
instant."
Dick seemed as if he thought his lordship had gone mad. Nina stared
helplessly at the group. Another gasp and a fainter groan came from
the body lying underneath the cab.
"We must look to this man; he is dying," said Simon Perkins, on his
knees by the prostrate form, now motionless and insensible.
"My house is round the corner," answered Lord Bearwarden, stooping
over the fallen ruffian. "Let us take him in. All the doctors in
the world won't save him," he added, in a tone of grave pity. "He's
bleeding to death inside."
Nina had been a good deal frightened, but recovered wonderfully in
the reassuring presence of her lover. "_His_ house?" she asked, in a
sufficiently audible voice, considering her late agitation. "Who is
he, Dick, and where does he live?"
Two of the police had now arrived, and were turning their lanterns on
the party. The strong white light glared full on Miss Algernon's
face and figure, so like Lady Bearwarden's but yet to the husband's
bewildered senses so surely not his wife's.
He shook all over. His face, though flushed a moment ago, turned
deadly pale. He clutched Dick's shoulder, and his voice came dry and
husky, while he gasped--
"What is it, Stanmore? Speak, man, for the love of heaven. What does
it all mean?"
Then came question and answer; clearer, fuller, more fluent with every
sentence. And so the explanation went on: how some enemy had
roused his worst suspicions; how Lord Bearwarden, deceived by the
extraordinary likeness which he could not but acknowledge even now,
had been satisfied he saw Dick Stanmore with Maud in a hansom cab; how
he had left his home in consequence, and sent that hostile message to
Dick, which had so puzzled that gallant, open-hearted gentleman; how
a certain letter from Lady Bearwarden, addressed to Mr. Stanmore, and
forwarded to her husband, had but confirmed his suspicions; and
how, at last, an anonymous communication to the same lady, falling
accidentally into his hands, had mystified him completely, and
made him resolve to watch and follow her at the hour named, with a
desperate hope that something might be revealed to alleviate his
sufferings, to give him more certainty of action and future guidance.
"I was horribly cut up, I don't mind confessing it," said Lord
Bearwarden, with his kindly grasp still on Dick's shoulder. "And I
waited there, outside my own house, like some d----d poaching thief.
It seemed so hard I couldn't go in and see her just once more!
Presently, out she came, as I thought, and I followed, very craftily,
and not too near for fear she should look round. She didn't, though,
but walked straight on; and when I saw the cab waiting, and she
stopped as if she meant to get in, I couldn't tell what to make of it
at all."
"I was only just in time. I came that last few yards with a rush, I
give you my word! And I made a grab at the driver, thinking the best
chance was to stop the conveyance at once, or if I couldn't do that,
take a free passage with the rest of them. She wasn't going of her own
accord, I felt sure. That villain of a lawyer struggled hard. I didn't
think he'd been so good a man. I wasn't at all sorry to see you
fellows coming up. It was two to one, you know, and I do believe, if
it hadn't been for the pistol, they might have got clear off. It shot
the worst customer of the two, that poor fellow behind us, right
through the body. Under my arm, I should think, for I got a very nasty
one on the shoulder just as the smoke flew in my face. It has squared
_his_ accounts, I fancy. But here we are at my house. Let's get him
in, and then you must introduce me properly to this young lady, whose
acquaintance I have made in such an unusual manner."
The strange procession had, indeed, arrived at Lord Bearwarden's
residence. It consisted of the proprietor himself, whose right arm was
now completely disabled, but who gesticulated forcibly with his left;
of Dick Stanmore and Nina, listening to his lordship with the utmost
deference and attention; of Jim's senseless body, carried by Simon
Perkins and one policeman, while Tom Ryfe, in close custody of the
other, brought up the rear.
As they entered the hall, Lady Bearwarden's pale, astonished face was
seen looking over the banisters. Dorothea, too, creeping down-stairs,
with some vague idea of escaping from this friendly refuge, and
finding her way back, perhaps, to the cool shining Serpentine, came
full upon the group at the moment when Jim was laid tenderly down by
his bearers, and the policeman whispered audibly to his comrade that,
even if the doctor were in the next street now, he would come too
late!
She ran forward with a wild, despairing cry. She flung herself down by
the long, limp, helpless figure. She raised the drooping head with
its matted locks, its fixed, white, rigid face, and pressed it hard
against her bosom--hard to her wayward, ignorant, warped, but loving
heart.
"Speak to me, Jim!" she moaned once more, rocking backwards and
forwards in her fierce agony. "Speak to me, deary! You'll never speak
again. O! why did they stop _me_ to-day? It's cruel--cruel! Why did
they stop me? We'd have been together before now!"
And the groom of the chambers, an unwilling witness of all these
indecorous proceedings, resolved, for that one night, to do his duty
stanchly by his employer, but give up his place with inflexible
dignity on the morrow.