IN WHICH ERNEST MAKES A LANDING ON THE HUDSON.
TOM THORNTON was no fool, and it was easy enough for him to see that I
understood the situation. It was useless for him to tell me that any
tenderness on the part of my uncle saved me from arrest, for the son
would have crushed me like a worm beneath his feet in spite of the
father. I think he got up and left me because he could not control his
temper, and feared a scene. He cooled off in a few moments, and came
back, as I knew he would.
"You defy me to arrest you--do you, Ernest?" said he, dropping into the
seat at my side.
"Yes; if you wish to put it in that form, I defy you to arrest me. I
repeat that I should be very glad to have you do it."
"Why so?" asked he, nervously.
"It would give me a chance to defend myself, and that is just what I
want, now I have the means to do so."
"You have some queer conceits, young man," sneered he. "What have you
done with that girl?"
"She is safe."
"I asked you what you had done with her."
"And I didn't answer you."
"What have you done with her?"
"She is safe."
"Running away with her is another criminal offence."
"If it is, I shall fight that battle on the same ground with the other.
If you choose to take me back to Parkville on any charge, of course you
can do so. If you do, a certain document will be brought to light, which
will convince Mrs. Loraine and everybody else, that Mr. Tom Thornton,
with his gold watch and chain, his span of bays, and his fine clothes,
isn't worth a dollar in the world."
Tom's lip actually quivered.
"I don't want to injure you, Ernest," said he. "Your uncle is not
willing that you should be brought to justice."
"I have no desire to bring him to justice, either."
"You talk like a fool, like a small boy," said he, impatiently.
"Then don't talk with me."
"You will make out that you haven't done anything wrong yourself, but
your friends have made a martyr of you. When I offer to get you out of
the scrape into which you have plunged, you speak just as though you
were the injured party."
"Exactly so, and I speak just what I mean. You talk to me just as though
you and your father had not suppressed my father's will, intending to
rob me of my inheritance, and kept my mother in a madhouse for ten or a
dozen years."
"What sort of bosh are you talking now?" demanded Tom, with an effort,
while his face was pale, and his frame trembled.
"I can prove it all. If you and your father wish to tell me where my
mother is, and to make terms you can tell me what you will do," I added,
following up my advantage.
"You have taken some ridiculous notion into your head, and I really
don't know what you are talking about."
"Did you ever read my father's will?"
"Your father's will!" exclaimed he. "I never heard that he made a will.
If he did, it was the most ridiculous thing he ever did in the whole
course of his life, for he hadn't a penny to leave."
"Perhaps you can tell me why my uncle so persistently refused to tell me
anything about my father or my mother?"
"I certainly can if you insist upon it; though, having more regard for
you than you have for yourself, I should prefer to follow your uncle's
example, and not say anything about them."
"I will not ask you to spare my feelings, Mr. Tom Thornton. Your father
went so far, when I insisted upon it, as to tell me that my mother was
insane."
"She is, poor woman, and I don't wonder that her reason was dethroned,"
replied Tom, whose face brightened up wonderfully as he spoke.
"He refused to tell me anything about my father."
"Which was very kind of him. Your uncle is a strange man; but his
greatest weakness is his regard for you. It is best you should know
nothing of your father; but if you wish to know, I'll tell you."
"I do wish to know."
"He committed a forgery in London, and died in Newgate before his trial
took place. Your poor mother was so grieved that it made her insane. Now
you know the whole truth, and you can understand why your uncle did not
wish to talk to you about your father."
I confess that I was rather startled by this explanation, and I could
not help asking myself if there was any truth in it. It certainly
accounted for my uncle's unwillingness to tell me anything about my
parents. But I would not believe it. It was treachery to my father's
memory to do so.
"Did he make his will in Newgate?" I asked.
"His will! What will? I have told you he had not a penny in the world.
Your uncle has ever since paid your mother's board in the insane
asylum."
"That is very kind of him. Can you tell me where she is?"
"I don't know."
"I suppose not; and probably it would not be convenient for you to tell
if you did."
"I would tell you if I knew. If you desire it, I will persuade your
uncle to tell you. You keep talking about a will. What do you mean by
it?"
"I found such a document in my uncle's strong box."
"Where is it?"
"It is safe."
"If there is any such document it is a mere fiction. I don't know
anything about it."
"You don't?"
"No."
"All right."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing."
"Of course when you speak of a will, you mean something by it,"
persisted Tom.
"It's no use to talk."
"Why not?"
"Because the truth isn't in you."
"I speak the exact truth."
"No--you don't."
"But I do."
"You know all about the will. I heard my uncle speak to you about it;
and I heard you ask if it was not destroyed. You asked for it, and
wanted to burn it then. Don't you know anything about it now?"
"You heard all this?" said he, biting his lips.
"I heard it."
"You dreamed it."
"No, I didn't dream it. I heard a great deal more than this. You wanted
to destroy the will; but your father said he dared not do it."
"Pray, where were you, when you heard all this?"
"On the top of the bay window of the library. The upper sash was pulled
down, so as to let the air in."
"Then you are an eaves-dropper as well as a thief."
"I was on the eaves of the bay window, and I dropped down about the time
you went up stairs to look for me. Now you know all about it--and so do
I. You may tell me my father died in Newgate, and that you never heard
of any will. I shall believe just as much of it as I please, and no
more. You think I'm a boy, Mr. Tom Thornton; but I've got brains enough
to know chalk from cheese."
Tom wiped his forehead. He did not like my style; but he could not do
anything. He dared not take any decided step. After observing the
feebleness of his position, I made up my mind that I had won the
victory. He was afraid to arrest me, and I felt as safe as though I had
been in London then. But there was one more point I wanted to impress
upon him.
"I have no doubt, Ernest, that you have some paper which you think is
valuable; something which has the form of a will," said Tom, after he
had fidgeted about in his seat for some time.
"It has that form," I replied.
"I should like to know what the paper is. Where is it?"
"No matter where it is. I know its value, and I have put it where, the
moment you take your first step against me, you will find it lying like
a big snake in your path."
"Won't you let me see it?"
"No."
"I only want to know what it is. You need not let it go out of your own
hands."
"I won't show it."
I had made my point. I had assured him the will would be forthcoming
when he took any step to annoy me. Tom tried all sorts of persuasion to
induce me to exhibit it; but without denying that I had it, I declined
to produce it. He was so weak that I began to despise him. At last he
got mad, and threatened me with all sorts of calamities. I told him,
when he became abusive, that I would not talk any more with him, and
abruptly left him.
Most of all, I desired to shake him off and get rid of him. While he was
watching me, I could not convey Kate to her uncle, and I was puzzled to
know what I should do. When the steamer arrived at New York, Tom would
keep both eyes fixed upon me, and I should have no chance to assist my
fair companion. I walked about the boat, and thought the matter over;
but the more I considered it, the more unsatisfactory it seemed.
About one o'clock the steamer made a landing at Poughkeepsie. I went
down to the main deck, from which the gangway planks led to the wharf. I
found Tom Thornton there, apparently for the purpose of assuring himself
that I did not take "French leave" of him, which was just the thing I
intended to do, if it could be done without his notice. I went forward,
but found that the stern of the boat was swung in, so that the forward
gangway was twenty feet from the pier.
[Illustration: THE ESCAPE DEFEATED.--Page 187.]
Returning to the saloon deck, I carefully examined the position of the
boat in regard to the shore. I went out upon the space over the guards,
and outside of the state-rooms. On the edge of the wharf there was a
storehouse, the end of which reached about to the middle of the
steamer's wheel. The top of the paddle-box was nearly on a level with
the flat roof of this building. I could not see Tom Thornton, but I
concluded that he was still watching for me on the main deck. The space
between the top of the paddle-box and the roof of the storehouse was not
more than three or four feet, and I concluded that a girl as resolute as
Kate Loraine would leap across the gulf without difficulty. I went to
her state-room, and gave the four raps. She was glad enough to see me,
and taking her valise I told her to follow me. I waited till I heard the
order given to haul in the plank, and then led Kate up the rude steps on
the curve of the paddle-box, heedless of the sign which interdicted
passengers from ascending.
A waiter shouted to me; but, fearful that I should be accused of trying
to evade the payment of our fares, I threw him my tickets, and told him
I must land at Poughkeepsie. I reached the top of the paddle-box with
Kate, and jumped over on the roof myself, with her carpet-bag in my
hand.
"Now jump, Kate!" I called, as I heard the bell ring to start the
wheels.
"I am afraid," she replied, shuddering, as she looked down into the
yawning gulf below.
"Jump quick, and I will catch you!"
"I cannot! I cannot!" exclaimed she, in an agony of terror.
The wheels turned, and in an instant the space was too wide for her to
come on the roof, or for me to return to the boat. The people discovered
us, and began to shout. I saw the waiter give the tickets to a man;
but, at the same instant, Tom Thornton, perceiving me on the roof of the
storehouse, sprang upon the rail, and leaped ashore, as the stern swung
in and grazed the pier. The steamer went on her course; and I saw the
man to whom the waiter had given the tickets assist the frightened Kate
down from the paddle-box.
I was on shore, but so was Tom Thornton.