THE DOCUMENT.
The more civilization progresses, and the more refined becomes the human
intellect, so does human iniquity increase.
It is true that heinous and appalling crimes are less frequent;--but
every kind of social, domestic, political, and commercial intrigue grows
more into vogue: human ingenuity is more continually on the rack to
discover the means of defrauding a neighbour or cheating the world;--the
sacred name of religion is called in to aid and further the nefarious
devices of the schemer;--hypocrisy is the cloak which conceals modern
acts of turpitude, as dark nights were trusted to for the concealment of
the bloody deeds of old: mere brute force is now less frequently
resorted to; but the refinements of education or the exercise of
duplicity are the engines chiefly used for purposes of plunder. The
steel engraver's art, and the skill of the caligrapher, are mighty
implements of modern misdeed:--years and years are expended in
calculating the chances of cards and dice;--education, manners, and good
looks are essential to the formation of the adventurers of the present
day;--the Bankruptcy Court itself is a frequent avenue to the temple of
fortune;--and, in order to suit this new and refined system of things,
the degrees of vices themselves are qualified by different names, so
that he who gambles at a gaming-table is a scamp, and he who propagates
a lie upon the Exchange and gambles accordingly, and with success, is a
respectable financier. Chicanery, upon a small scale, and in a miserable
dark office, is a degradation;--but the delicate and elaborate chicanery
of politics, by which a statesman is enabled to outwit parties, or
deceive whole nations, is a masterpiece of human talent! To utter a
falsehood in private life, to suit a private end, is to cut one's-self
off from all honourable society:--but to lie day and night in a public
journal--to lie habitually and boldly in print--to lie in a manner the
most shameless and barefaced in the editorial columns of a newspaper, is
not only admissible, but conventional, and a proof of skill, tact, and
talent.
Thus is modern society constituted:--let him deny the truth of the
picture who can!
London is filled with Mr. Greenwoods: they are to be found in numbers at
the West End. Do not for one moment believe, reader, that our portrait
of this character is exaggerated.
In pursuing the thread of a narrative like this, there will naturally be
found much to alarm, to astonish, and to shock: but however appalling
the picture, it teaches lessons which none can regret to learn. The
chart that would describe the course to virtue must point out and lay
bare the shoals, the quicksands, and the rocks of vice which render the
passage perilous and full of terrors.
With these few remarks, we pursue our history. At seven o'clock in the
evening of the day following the one on which we have seen Mr. Greenwood
conducting his multifarious schemes and transactions with the precision
of a minister of state, Count Alteroni arrived at that gentleman's house
in Spring Gardens. He was shown into the elegantly furnished
drawing-room, where Mr. Greenwood received him. The count was, however,
the only one of all the financier's visitors who did not seem dazzled by
the proofs of wealth and luxury that prevailed around. The Italian
nobleman remarked these indications of great riches, and considered them
the guarantees of Mr. Greenwood's prosperous position in the world: but,
apart from this view of the splendour and sumptuousness of the mansion,
he neither appeared astonished nor struck with admiration. The truth
was, that Mr. Greenwood's abode, with all its magnificent decorations
and ornaments, its costly furniture, and its brilliant display of plate,
was a mere hovel compared to the count's own palace at Montoni, the
capital city of Castelcicala.
Mr. Greenwood and the count had not exchanged many words, ere dinner was
announced. The banquet, although only provided for the founder of the
feast and his one guest, was of a most magnificent description, every
luxury which London could produce appearing upon the table.
At half-past eight o'clock, the clerk of Mr. Greenwood's solicitor
arrived, and was introduced into the dining-room. He had brought with
him a deed by which Greenwood bound himself to be answerable to Count
Alteroni for the sum of fifteen thousand pounds, which the latter had
placed in the hands of the former for the purpose of speculation in a
certain Steam-packet Company, Greenwood recognising his responsibility
towards the count to the above extent whether the company should succeed
or not, it having been originally agreed that he (Greenwood) should
incur all risks, as he had undertaken the sole direction of the
enterprise. This deed was signed by George M. Greenwood, witnessed by
the attorney's clerk, and handed to Count Alteroni.
The clerk then withdrew.
Mr. Greenwood ordered a bottle of the very best Burgundy to be opened,
and drank a bumper to the health of the Signora Isabella.
Scarcely was this toast disposed of, when Lafleur entered the room, and
said, "A courier with despatches from your correspondents in Paris, sir,
has just arrived, and requests to see you instantly. I have shown him
into the study."
"Very good," exclaimed Mr. Greenwood, suddenly assuming a business air.
"Will you excuse me, count, for a few minutes?"
"I shall take my leave, since you are likely to be much occupied," said
the nobleman.
"On the contrary--pray remain--I insist upon it! I shall not be long
with this messenger," cried Mr. Greenwood: "and we must empty another
bottle before I allow you to take your departure."
The count suffered himself to be over-ruled; and Mr. Greenwood repaired
to his study, well-knowing that, instead of a courier from Paris, he
should there find Tom the Cracksman.
Nor was he mistaken. That individual was sitting very comfortably in an
arm-chair near the fire, gazing around him, and wondering, amongst other
things, where the master of the house kept his strong-box.
"You are known, I believe," said Greenwood, carefully closing the door,
"as the Cracksman?"
"That's my title, sir--for want of a better," answered the villain.
"You are, perhaps, astonished that I have sent for you here," continued
Greenwood: "but I wish a certain service performed this very night, and
for which I will pay you liberally."
"What's the natur' of the sarvice?" demanded the Cracksman, darting a
keen and penetrating glance at Greenwood.
"A highway robbery," coolly answered this individual.
"Well, that's plain enow," said the Cracksman. "But first tell me how
you come to know of me, and where I was to be seen: because how can I
tell but what this is all a plant of yours to get me into trouble?"
"I will answer you candidly and fairly. A few years ago, when I first
entered on a London life, I determined to make myself acquainted with
all the ways of the metropolis, high or low, virtuous or vicious. I
disguised myself on several occasions, in very mean clothes, and visited
all the flash houses and patter-cribs--amongst others, the boozing-ken
on Great Saffron-hill. There you were pointed out to me; and your skill,
your audacity, and your extraordinary luck in eluding the police, were
vaunted by the landlord of that place in no measured terms."
"Well--this is singular:--blow me if it ain't!" cried the Cracksman.
"Another person found me out jist in the same way this wery morning,
only, and he wants a little private job done for him. But that's for
to-morrow night. Howsomever, I never blab to one, of what I have done or
am going to do for another. You to-night--him to-morrow night! Arter
all, the landlord's a fool to talk so free: how did he know you wasn't a
trap in disguise?"
"Because I told him that my object was merely to see life in all its
shapes: and I was then so very young I could scarcely have been
considered dangerous. However, I have occasionally indulged in such
rambles, even very lately; and only a few weeks ago I looked in at the
boozing-ken dressed as a poor countryman. There I saw you again; and I
overheard you say to a friend of yours whom you called the Buffer, that
you were generally there every evening to see what was going on."
"All right!" cried the Cracksman. "Now what's the robbery, and what's
the reward?"
"Are you man enough to do it alone?"
"I'm man enow to try it on; but if so be the chap is stronger than
me----"
"He is a tall, powerful person, and by no means likely to surrender
without a desperate resistance."
"Well, all that can be arranged," said the Cracksman, coolly. "Not
knowing what you wanted with me, I brought two of my pals along with me,
and they're out in the street, or in the alley leading into the park. If
there'd been anythink wrong on your part, they would either have rescued
me, or marked you and your house for future punishment."
"I am glad that you have your companions so near. Of course they will
assist you?"
"In anythink. The Resurrection Man and the Buffer will stick to me like
bricks."
"Very good. I will now explain to you what I want done. Between eleven
and twelve o'clock a gentleman will leave London for Richmond. He will
be in his own cabriolet, with a tiger, only twelve years old, behind.
The cab is light blue--the wheels streaked with white. This is peculiar,
and cannot be mistaken. The horse is a tall bay, with silver-mounted
harness. This gentleman must be stopped; and every thing his pockets
contain--every thing, mind--must be brought to me. Whatever money there
may be about him shall be yours; and I will add fifty guineas to the
amount:--but all that you find about his person, save the money, must be
handed over to me."
"I understand," said the Cracksman. "Does he carry pistols?"
"I should imagine not."
"Never mind: the Resurrection Man has got couple of barkers. But
supposing he shouldn't come at all--what then?"
"You shall have twenty guineas for your loss of time. Here are ten as an
earnest."
"That's business," said the Cracksman. "Any more instructions?"
"No. I need scarcely say that no unnecessary violence is to be used?"
"Leave all that to me. You will sit up and wait for me?"
"Yes. Give a low single knock at the door, and the same servant who
sought you out last night, and let you in just now, will admit you
again."
The Cracksman gave a significant nod and took his departure.
Mr. Greenwood returned to the dining-room, where he had left the count.
"My news from Paris is of the most satisfactory nature," he observed.
"My correspondents in that city, moreover, promise me their best support
in our new enterprise."
"I am delighted to hear that your letters have pleased you," said the
count.
The two gentlemen then broached another bottle of Burgundy; and Mr.
Greenwood conversed with even more sprightliness than usual. Indeed, the
count fancied that he had never found his host so agreeable and
entertaining.
At eleven o'clock precisely, the count's cabriolet was announced; and
the nobleman took his departure, with the conviction, that, under his
present circumstances, Mr. Greenwood was the most eligible suitor for
the hand of Isabella that was likely to present himself.
As soon as the count had taken his departure, Mr. Greenwood rang for his
slippers and dressing-gown, drew close to the cheerful fire that burnt
in the grate, and ordered Lafleur to make him a tumbler of the best
pine-apple rum-punch. This exhilarating beverage and a fragrant Havannah
cigar enabled Mr. Greenwood to pass the time away in a most comfortable
and soul-soothing manner.
And it was thus that he mused as he watched the pale blue transparent
smoke of his cigar wreathing upwards to the ceiling:--
"I began the world without a shilling, and at an age when I had no
experience in the devious ways of society;--and what am I now? The
possessor of sixty thousand pounds! A few years ago I slept in
coffee-houses, paying eight-pence a night for my bed: I breakfasted for
three-pence halfpenny; dined for ten-pence; and supped for two-pence.
Now the luxuries of the four quarters of the world tempt my palate at
every meal. At the outset of my career, my transactions were petty
rogueries: now I play my false cards to produce me thousands at a
stake. I once purchased my coat for twelve shillings in Holywell-street;
there is not now a tailor at the west-end who will not give credit to
George Greenwood. My wealth purchases me every kind of pleasure. I can
afford to bestow a thousand guineas upon the woman, who, daughter of a
peer, and wife of a baronet, throws herself into my arms. One single
scheme produces me ten times that amount. And Isabella--beauteous
Isabella shall be my wife. I shall receive no dowry with her, it is
true--because I have obtained all her father's fortune in advance;--but
I shall be proud to introduce a lovely wife--the daughter of a count,
and descended from a long line of ancestry, in that fashionable sphere
to which I must henceforth belong. I shall be a member of parliament:
Lord Tremordyn can easily obtain for me a baronetcy in due time;--and
then, the peerage is not a height _too_ difficult to aspire to! Oh! if
with a coronet upon my brow, and Isabella by my side, I can drive in my
chariot to----"
Lafleur entered the room at this moment, and handed a letter to his
master. Greenwood opened it, and read as follows:--
"I have done your bidding in every particular up to the present
moment. Louisa set off this afternoon for Birmingham, having
received a letter stating that her only sister is at the point of
death in that town. You will of course understand by whom that
letter was written. I have, moreover, invented an excuse, relative
to the date of the departure of the New York packets from
Liverpool, by which means I am enabled to remain in London without
exciting the suspicions of Eliza. I shall pass to-morrow evening
with her. You may rely upon being admitted at midnight."
Greenwood full well understood the meaning of this note without a
signature; and its contents tended to augment that happiness which the
success of his schemes infused into his breast.
Hour after hour passed away;--at length midnight sounded; and all the
servants, save Lafleur, were dismissed to their sleeping apartments.
The cigars, the rum-punch, and the pleasurable reflections into which
the financier plunged, made the time elapse rapidly. One o'clock struck;
and he had not found a single moment tedious. He was not anxious, nor a
prey to suspense, as other men would have been; he felt certain that his
wishes would be accomplished, and he was therefore as composed as if he
had already been assured of their success.
The clock struck two; and a low knock was heard at the front door.
Lafleur answered the summons; and in a few moments introduced the
Cracksman to the room where his master was sitting.
"All right, sir," said that worthy, the moment Lafleur had withdrawn.
"And no violence, I hope?" cried Greenwood.
"Not a bit," returned the Cracksman. "We was as gentle as lambs. We on'y
pitched the small boy into a dry ditch that was by the side of the road;
and as for the gentleman, I just tapped him over the head with the butt
of a pistol to keep him quiet; but I did it myself to make sure that it
wasn't done too hard."
"You surely have not murdered him?" said Greenwood, his whole
countenance suddenly convulsed with horror.
"Don't be afeard; he was on'y stunned--you may take my word for that,"
returned the Cracksman, coolly. "But here's all the papers we found in
his pocket; and as for his purse--it had but a few pounds in it."
Mr. Greenwood received the papers from the hands of the Cracksman, and
observed with a glance that amongst them was the document which he had
given a few hours previously to guarantee the safety of the fifteen
thousand pounds placed in his hands by Count Alteroni.
"You are sure," he said, with some uneasiness depicted upon his
countenance, "that there is no danger to be apprehended from the
blow----"
"Danger be d----d!" cried the Cracksman; "I know from experience
exactly what kind o' blow will stun, or break a limb, or kill outright.
I'll forfeit my reputation if there's any harm in that there whack which
I gave to-night."
"We must hope that you are right in your conjecture," said
Greenwood;--then, taking his purse from his pocket, he counted down
forty-two sovereigns upon the table, adding, "That will make up the
fifty guineas promised."
The Cracksman consigned the money to his fob, and then took leave of his
employer, hoping "_that he should have his custom in future_."
The moment he was gone, Greenwood thrust the document, which he had thus
got back by a crime of an infamous nature, into the fire. When it was
completely consumed, he proceeded to examine the other papers. These
consisted chiefly of letters written in cypher, addressed to Count
Alteroni, and bearing the post-mark of Montoni, Castelcicala: the rest
were notes and memoranda of no consequence whatever.
Mr. Greenwood, being unable to unriddle the letters written in cypher,
and considering that they were upon political subjects with which he had
little or no interest, consigned the entire packet of papers to the
flames.
He then retired to rest, and slept as soundly as if his entire day had
been passed in virtuous deeds.
At about ten o'clock in the morning he received the following letter
from Richmond:--
"MY DEAR MR. GREENWOOD,
"As I was on my way home last evening, I was suddenly attacked by
three villains in a dark and lonely part of the road. One of the
miscreants stunned me with the blow of a pistol, and threw the
little jockey into a ditch. Fortunately we are neither of us
seriously injured. The robbers plundered me of every thing I had
about my person--my purse containing thirty-four sovereigns, and
all my papers, amongst which was the security I had received from
your hands a few hours before. You will perhaps have another drawn.
"I do not think it is worth while to make any disturbance relative
to the matter, as, in consequence of the darkness of the night, I
should be totally unable to recognise the miscreants.
"Yours faithfully,
"ALTERONI."
"Thank heavens, there is no danger in that quarter!" exclaimed Mr.
Greenwood, when he had perused this letter. "He is not hurt--and he will
not adopt any means to detect the culprits. As for having another
document drawn up--I can take my time about that, and he will not dare
press me for it as he did for the first. Besides, he will consider my
honourable intentions in the matter fully proved by having given the one
which he has lost! Thus have I obtained fifteen thousand pounds without
much trouble--thus have I thrown dust into the eyes of this count, and
still do I retain his confidence. And his lovely daughter--the beautiful
Isabella, with her large black eyes, her raven hair, her sweet red lips,
and her sylph-like form,--she shall be mine! I shall lead her to the
altar--that charming Italian virgin, whose very looks are heaven. Every
thing progresses well: success attends all my plans;--and
to-night--to-night," he added, in a tone of triumph, "to-night will
ensure me the gratification of my desires and my vengeance with regard
to that haughty fair one of the villa!"