THREE GRIM FIGURES IN A LONELY LANE--TWO QUEER GUESTS RIDING TO TONY
BLIGH'S--THE WATCHER IN DANGER--AND THE HIGHWAYMEN.
A liberal and unsolicited attention to the affairs of other people, was
one among the many amiable peculiarities of Mr. Laurence Toole: he had
hardly, therefore, seen the major and O'Connor fairly beyond the
threshold of the "Cock and Anchor," when he donned his cocked hat and
followed their steps, allowing, however, an interval sufficiently long
to secure himself against detection. Larry Toole well knew the purposes
to which the squalid mansion which we have described was dedicated, and
having listened for a few moments at the door, to allow his master and
his companion time to reach the inner sanctuary of vice and brutality,
whither it was the will of Major O'Leary to lead his reluctant friend,
this faithful squire entered at the half-open door, and began to
traverse the passage which we have before mentioned. He was not,
however, permitted long to do so undisturbed. The grim sentinel of
these unhallowed regions on a sudden upreared his towering proportions,
heaving his huge shoulders with a very unpleasant appearance of
preparation for an effort, and with two or three formidable strides,
brought himself up with the presumptuous intruder.
"What do _you_ want here--eh! you d----d scarecrow?" exclaimed the
porter, in a tone which made the very walls to vibrate.
Larry was too much astounded to reply--he therefore remained mute and
motionless.
"See, my good cove," observed the gaunt porter, in the same impressive
accents of admonition--"make yourself scarce, d'ye mind; and if you
want to see the pit, go round--we don't let potboys and pickpockets in
at this side--cut and run, or I'll have to give you a lift."
Larry was no poltroon; but another glance at the colossal frame of the
porter quelled effectually whatever pugnacious movements might have
agitated his soul; and the little man, having deigned one look of
infinite contempt, which told his antagonist, as plainly as any look
could do, that he owed his personal safety solely and exclusively to
the sublime and unmerited pity of Mr. Laurence Toole, that dignified
individual turned on his heel, and withdrew somewhat precipitately
through the door which he had just entered.
The porter grinned, rolled his quid luxuriously till it made the grand
tour of his mouth, shrugged his square shoulders, and burst into a
harsh chuckle. Such triumphs as the one he had just enjoyed, were the
only sweet drops which mingled in the bitter cup of his savage
existence. Meanwhile, our romantic friend, traversing one or two dark
lanes, made his way easily enough to the more public entrance of this
temple of fortune. The door which our friend Larry now approached lay
at the termination of a long and narrow lane, enclosed on each side
with dead walls of brick--at the far end towered the dark outline of
the building, and over the arched doorway burned a faint and dingy
light, without strength enough to illuminate even the bricks against
which it hung, and serving only in nights of extraordinary darkness as
a dim, solitary star, by which the adventurous night rambler might
shape his course. The moon, however, was now shining broad and clear
into the broken lane, revealing every inequality and pile of rubbish
upon its surface, and throwing one side of the enclosure into black,
impenetrable shadow. Without premeditation or choice, it happened that
our friend Larry was walking at the dark side of the lane, and shrouded
in the deep obscurity he advanced leisurely toward the doorway. As he
proceeded, his attention was arrested by a figure which presented
itself at the entrance of the building, accompanied by two others, as
it appeared, about to pass forth into the lane through which he himself
was moving. They were engaged in animated debate as they
approached--the conversation was conducted in low and earnest
tones--their gestures were passionate and sudden--their progress
interrupted by many halts--and the party evinced certain sinister
indications of uneasy vigilance and caution, which impressed our friend
with a dark suspicion of mischief, which was strengthened by his
recognition of two of the persons composing the little group. His
curiosity was irresistibly piqued, and he instinctively paused, lest
the sound of his advancing steps should disturb the conference, and
more than half in the undefined hope that he might catch the substance
of their conversation before his presence should be detected. In this
object he was perfectly successful.
In the form which first offered itself, he instantly detected the
well-known proportions and features of young Ashwoode's groom, who had
attended his master into town; and in company with this fellow stood a
person whom Larry had just as little difficulty in recognizing as a
ruffian who had twice escaped the gallows by the critical interposition
of fortune--once by a flaw in the indictment, and again through lack of
sufficient evidence in law--each time having stood his trial on a
charge of murder. It was not very wonderful, then, that this startling
companionship between his old fellow-servant and Will Harris (or, as he
was popularly termed, "Brimstone Bill") should have piqued the
curiosity of so inquisitive a person as Larry Toole.
In company with these worthies was a third, wrapped in a heavy
riding-coat, and who now and then slightly took part in the
conversation. They all talked in low, earnest whispers, casting many a
stealthy glance backward as they advanced through the dim avenue toward
our curious friend.
As the party approached, Larry ensconced himself in the recess formed
by the projection of two dilapidated brick piers, between which hung a
crazy door, and in whose front there stood a mound of rubbish some
three feet in height. In such a position he not unreasonably thought
himself perfectly secure.
"Why, what the devil ails you now, you cursed cowardly ninny,"
whispered Brimstone Bill, through his set teeth--"what can happen
_you_, win or lose?--turn up black, or turn up red, is it not all one
to you, you _mouth_, you? _Your_ carcase is safe and sound--then what
do you funk for now? Rouse yourself, you d----d idiot, or I'll drive a
brace of lead pellets through your brains--rouse yourself!"
Thus speaking, he shook the groom roughly by the collar.
"Stop, Bill--hands off," muttered the man, sulkily--"I'm not
funking--you know I'm not; but I don't want to see him _finished_--I
don't want to see him murdered when there's no occasion for it--there's
no great harm in that; we want his _ribben_, not his blood; there's no
profit in taking his life."
"Booby! listen to me," replied the ruffian, in the same tone of intense
impatience. "What do _I_ want with his life any more than you do?
Nothing. Do not I wish to do the thing genteelly as much as you? He
shall not lose a drop of blood, nor his skin have a scratch, if he
knows how to behave and be a good boy. Bah! we need but show him the
_lead towels_, and the job's done. Look you, I and Jack will sit in the
private room of the 'Bleeding Horse.' Old Tony's a trump, and asks no
questions; so, as you pass, give the window a skelp of the whip, and
we'll be out in the snapping of a flint. Leave the rest to us. You have
your instructions, you _kedger_, so act up to them, and the devil
himself can't spoil our sport."
"You may look out for us, then," said the servant, "in less than two
hours. He never stays late at Lady Stukely's, and he must be home
before two o'clock."
"Do not forget to grease the hammers," suggested the fellow in the
heavy coat.
"He doesn't carry pistols to-night," replied the attendant.
"So much the better--all _my_ luck," exclaimed Brimstone--"I would not
swap luck with the chancellor."
"The devil's children, they say," observed the gentleman in the large
coat, "have the devil's luck."
These were the last words Larry Toole could distinguish as the party
moved onward. He ventured, however, although with grievous tremors, to
peep out of his berth to ascertain the movements of the party. They all
stopped at a distance of some twenty or thirty yards from the spot
where he crouched, and for a time appeared again absorbed in earnest
debate. On a sudden, however, the fellow in the riding-coat, having
frequently looked suspiciously up the lane in which they stood, stooped
down, and, picking up a large stone, hurled it with his whole force in
the direction of the embrasure in which Larry was lurking. The missile
struck the projecting pier within a yard of that gentleman's head, with
so much force that the stone burst into fragments and descended in a
shower of splinters about his ears. This astounding salute was
instantly followed by an occurrence still more formidable--for the
ruffian, not satisfied with the test already applied, strode up in
person to the doorway in which Larry had placed himself. It was well
for that person that he was sheltered in front by the mass of rubbish
which we have mentioned: at the foot of this he lay coiled, not daring
even to breathe; every moment expecting to feel the cold point of the
villain's sword poking against his ribs, and half inclined to start
upon his feet and shout for help, although conscious that to do so
would scarcely leave him a chance for his life. The suspicions of the
wretch were, fortunately for Larry, ill-directed. He planted one foot
upon the heap of loose materials which, along with the deep shadow,
constituted poor Mr. Toole's only safeguard; and while the stones which
his weight dislodged rolled over that prostrate person, he pushed open
the door and gazed into the yard, lest any inquisitive ear or eye might
have witnessed more than was consistent with the safety of the
confederates of Brimstone Bill. The fellow was satisfied, and returned
whistling, with affected carelessness, towards his comrades.
More dead than alive, Larry remained mute and motionless for many
minutes, not daring to peep forth from his hiding-place; when at length
he mustered courage to do so, he saw the two robbers still together,
and again shrunk back into his retreat. Luckily for the poor wight, the
fellow who had looked into the yard left the door unclosed, which,
after a little time perceiving, Larry glided stealthily in on all
fours, and in a twinkling sprang into the window at which his master
lay, as we have already recorded.