SCENES LEADING TO THE CLIMAX.
The robbers soon dispersed and left our hero alone by the bole of a
fallen pine. Nancy appeared in a moment, and, as she passed our hero
on her way to gather branches for fire kindling, she said:
'They are all afraid. Are holding a consultation now. They will give
you the old woman's room.'
Then Nancy was gone. Everything was as still as the solitude of the
tomb; and Roland could hear the partridge 'drumming' among the silent
aisles of the wood.
He sat upon the tree-bole meditating, and the words of Nancy somehow
gave him courage. Presently he heard a rustle in the dry bushes
beside him, and, looking he saw a fallow doe making her way with
quick but dainty tread towards the lake. He saw that she had not seen
him, and that she was coming for the very spot where he sat. So he
laid himself noiselessly down in the shelter of the huge trunk, and
drawing his heavy pistol awaited.
In a few seconds the unsuspecting animal was within half a dozen
paces of him, when, rising, he fired, one, two shots, and the pretty
creature fell over, headlong, dead.
Running over he opened the jugular artery so that the blood might
run out of the meat, and cause it to be white,--although some of the
_connoisseurs_ of game prefer the retention of the blood, as the
meat, they affirm, becomes 'gamey' in a shorter period.
The pistol report brought the robbers instantly from the lair with
alarm in their faces.
'What is this?' demanded the captain.
'A fallow doe was passing down toward the lake, and I fired.'
'And _missed_ it,' sneered Murfrey.
'It is a fine fat one, captain,' Roland said, taking no notice of
the ruffian; 'come and feel it.'
'It is more than you could do with a pistol, Joe,' the captain
replied, turning to the hang-dog robber, who, with a very disconcerted
air, hulked away from the scene, probably in search of Nancy.
It may be objected here that the robbers would not be likely to give
their captive the opportunity of escaping which he must have had by
being alone. I have to reply for the sake of the small critics who
read my book, and to whom the publishers are very glad to _sell_
it, that there was only one means of escape for Roland, and that was
along the lakeward side of the tunnel. But the passage here was
commanded by the eyes of the gang, who had been underground in
consultation.
After the doe had been quartered, The Lifter, taking Roland aside,
said:
'You have frighteen'd 'em. You are to have Granny's bed; and the
Capteen swears that he will punish the next attempt upon your life as
if it was made against his own. "If I want 'em made away with," he
said, "I'll tell you, and will make the way known." I think he rather
likes your pluck, although he is as mad as blazes that you will not
take a hand with us. But I don't think they'll try your life any
more, though you must be always on your guard.' Although the
conversation of this young robber was most sincere, the above words
slipped from his lips like dripping oil, and he had in his face a
cunning look, strange and repellant as of yore. But the cunning was
now against his confederates, and active upon Roland's side.
'Suppose,' he said, 'we take our rods up the brook. We may catch
sometheen.' They went and had extremely good luck; and many a day
thereafter, till the stream became covered with a thin crust of
leaden-grey ice, did they continue the sport.
In the meantime the robbers went abroad, and Roland occupied the
room of the hag, who went with Silent Poll. When the first snow
drifts came swishing through the bush a large tent was erected near
the mouth of the cavern, and in this the meals were eaten and the
household work performed.
This season became very irksome to Roland, who, at the first, had no
books to read save 'Claude Duval,' 'Dick Turpin,' 'The Lives of Forty
Robbers,' and 'Sixteen-String Jack.' But one day as The Lifter left
the lair to go to Muddy York he put a guinea in his hand and a slip
of paper containing the titles of certain books that he desired him
to bring back. These were 'The Abbot,' 'The Monastery,' 'Zanoni,'
and 'Anson's Voyages.' He likewise put a sealed letter into his hand
directed to
'Miss Aster Atwell,
'Oaklands, York County.'
This letter has been placed into my hands. It is yellow now, and
worn so where folded that it makes eight different pieces when spread
out. But the writing is legible, and I transcribe its contents, which
were as follows:
'My Own Beloved Aster,
'I do not know how I ought to commence a letter to you, or in what
terms to write it. I do not know whether you share in the general
horror and detestation of my crime; or whether you look upon it as an
act forced upon me, an act unavoidable, in defence of my honour. The
blame for the lamentable occurrence, I feel, after long deliberation,
ought to be laid at my door; for I was too precipitate, and by my
haste no doubt provoked the insult.
'I did not at the unlucky moment know what it was that aroused the
evil spirit within me; but, oh, Aster, it was in the depths of the
sheltering forest, wounded, and set upon by the bloodhounds of the
law, I discovered first the reason. Ah, my darling, it was then, and
then for the first time only, that I knew how dear you were to me;
that above all things in heaven or on earth I loved my own sweet
Aster. But how helpless now, how agonizing was that love which my
misfortune had fanned into such a sudden flame.
'Well, as you know, my beloved, I escaped from the officers of the
law, and the impression is abroad that I am in one of the neighbouring
States of the Union. I am in Upper Canada and quite near to you, "so
near and yet so far." Where my place of hiding is I may not tell you.
Yet this much, Aster, I may say, I am not here of my own choice; I was
taken here by force, and by force I am detained. Ah, may I hope that
the day yet shall come, when it will be meet for me to present myself
to my own darling, the first and only love of my life.
'Yet, why, Aster, should I address you thus? I am a murderer before
the tribunals; and whatever I be I am perhaps only a friend in your
eyes. Some other one may now find the place in your favour which once
I fondly thought I held.
'Oh Aster, if I have done wrong, most bitter has been my punishment.
I could not for _shame_ write to my beloved what my lot has been
since my painful parting. I may escape the toils set about me, or I
may perish in them. But oh, my Aster whatever issue fate allots to
me, believe this that my love for you shall be my only star to the
end.
'Roland.'
'Let nobody be aware that you bear this letter,' Roland whispered
when an opportunity offered.
The Lifter raised his finger to his lips.
It appears that Murfrey, whose eyes were ever on the alert, noticed
that Roland gave some injunctions to The Lifter, and he likewise
observed the latter lay his finger upon his lips. Turning to the
Captain, he muttered a few words in a voice that was inaudible, and
the chief turned and said:
'Treachery has been charged against you. I do not know whether the
charge is true or false. Murfrey says you are the bearer of some
secret correspondence for the duellist.
'I know not whether he speaks the truth or not. But I will make no
investigation, for if I did and found the charge made good, I should
shoot you where you stand. I will take your word upon it.'
The Lifter did not wince under the harangue. He did not, indeed,
look at his father at all, but kept his eye upon Murfrey.
'And,' said he, 'before I reply, may I ask what you ought to do to
anybody guilty of slandereen? He looked with a full face of hate upon
Joe. It will be perceived by this that he was not in the fullest sense
'converted;' for you 'must pray for them that persecute and calumniate
you.' I am like The Lifter in this matter. I never pray for my
culumniator, but I pray for guidance as to how I may _crush_ him. My
prayer, I may add, has now and again been heard.
'With respect to the charge,' resumed The Lifter, 'Roland gave me a
coin and with it a slip of paper on which were written the names of
certain books that he wanted me to buy for him in Muddy York. As I
passed him he whispered me not to let anybody know; because I suppose
he was afeered that you might object. I put my fingers upon my lips;
because I thought 'twas no harm to bring the books. That's all.'
The moralist tells us that 'no lie can be lawful or innocent.' Now I
take it that some of the old numbskulls who wrote such things in the
church catechisms and books of that ilk ought to be drowned in the
bottom of a well. A good clever lie of this sort would raise The
Lifter more in my estimation than if he were able to repeat the
Forty-Nine articles off by heart, or begin in the Vulgate with
'_Pater Noster, qui es in Caelis,_' and go through without
drawing his breath to '_Sed libera nos a malo._'
'I accept your explanation,' the Captain said, and The Lifter
hurried away on his errand to town.
The books were little short of a blessing to Roland; and when
nothing else was to be done in winter, he sat in his
sleeping-room--which was the one best ventilated among the lot--and
read by the light of a candle. How often he laid the book upon his
knee and sighed, thinking of his beloved Aster, wondering how she
had regarded his letter. In this way many a dreary week went on
during which he grew pale and weak from pining and incarceration.
When The Lifter's arm became well, that repentant and unwilling
robber was obliged to make up for lost time. His first most important
enterprise was to obtain entrance into the house of a large cattle
dealer in York, the testy old person by the way, whose negro servant
he had endeavoured in vain to rob upon the highway. It became known
to the Rev. Mr. Jonas that there was a strong box in the old
gentleman's house, and the same was full of 'yellow shiners.' It was
secured, the clergyman observed, by three padlocks besides an
ordinary lock. In the picking of locks The Lifter was an expert by
instinct; and when the worthy father discovered this gift he at once
sent him to a locksmith in York for a period of six months.
'Make him as expert as you can in his trade by the end of that time,
and forty pounds shall be yours.'
The honest locksmith looked wonderingly at this burly cattle dealer
who would pay so much money for giving his son a smattering knowledge
of the trade. But he consented, and at the half-year's end The Lifter
came out, prepared, as he said with an oily chuckle 'to tackle any
lock.'
Well, as I have said, the scene of operations chosen for The Lifter
now was the house of this old man; and the money in the box was the
object.
'I am sorry that I have to go stealeen again,' the fellow said with
a sigh to Roland, and then he explained his mission.
'But that is more than stealing. That will be robbery; and if you
are obliged to enter the house after night, it will be burglary. Do
you know that the law provides death for burglary?'
'I am goeen to get myself invited in. But I have often burglared, an
I did not think they could hang me for it.'
'They could; because the law presumes that a burglar will commit
murder, and comes prepared to commit it, rather than suffer himself
to be taken in the act.'
'Oh,' groaned the poor wretch. 'Many a hangeen have I earned. But
all the same I must do this. Say,' he cried, suddenly turning and
laying his hand upon Roland's arm, 'when do you think we will be able
to escape out of this place? Nancy would like to come too, I know. I
am very fond of her; and would like to marry her and live in the
States.'
'I shall let you know when I think the time is opportune. Meanwhile,
do as little evil as possible; and if you can deceive the captain in
this present enterprise, do so, and leave the locks alone.' Then The
Lifter was gone.
That same evening towards the set of sun as 'Old Snarleyow,' as the
miserly farmer was called, was limping in from the out-houses to his
residence, he saw approaching his gate a lad with a pale and dejected
face. His hair was flaxen and his skin had in it just the slightest
tinge of apple-green. Imagine wasting such an exquisite colour upon
the complexion of a robber! He hobbled towards the gate of the
stately old mansion, towards which Snarleyow was also hobbling; and
he called in a feeble voice in which you could catch a note of pain:
'Good sir, I pray you to give me the shelter of your house for the
night. Please, sir, do. Snow is driving out of the east, and the wind
is bitter cold. I cannot live this night if you do not take me in;
for I am ill and lame.'
'Go to blazes about your business. Be off to the poor commissioners;
they'll attend to your case,' replied the old man as he looked
around, bent, and crabbedly thrusting the end of his stick several
times into the ground.
'But I shall die before I reach the poor commissioners,' answered
the invalid in the same soft, sad voice.
'Then die, and be d--d to you for a tramp,' the old man said, poking
his stick once more into the ground and resuming his way. But he was
seized with a violent fit of coughing, and almost tumbled upon his
turned up, cross old nose. When he recovered he turned round and
fairly danced with rage, shaking his stick at the poor wayfarer, who
stood meekly by at the gate, shivering there like a dog.
Never a move did he make as the old man with menacing stick approached
him, which so incensed Snarleyow that he hastened his pace to a
decrepit run. But, as perverse fate or the green-complexioned
gentleman at the gate would have it, the old man tripped across a pump
handle which was frozen in the ground, and fell directly, and with all
his might, upon the tip of his _nez retrousse'_.
Upon the ground he lay spluttering, writhing, and giving vent to an
occasional shriek till there was a hurrying of feet in the mansion;
then the meek and jaded traveller moved gently away till his person
was hidden in the pines. Standing against a giant bole the traveller
thus soliquized:
'To please Roland I promised to be good; and I felt much good in my
heart. I was goeen to find some way of deceiveen my mates; but the
old Christeen was too uncharitable, and I shall pick his locks. He
would not care if I was dyeen, starveen on the very snow before his
eyes. Yes, I'll pick his locks; and what comes to my share I'll give
to the poor.'
Now which of these two men, that robber or the respectable old miser
Christian, finds more favour in God's sight, think my readers?
Well, The Lifter decided to rob him, and I am glad that he did. I am
not dealing with a case in the moon either. I know this old man well;
and I am acquainted with some others of his kind.
About an hour after the soliloquy above recorded had taken place a
weak set of knuckles rapped upon the back door of the miser's
dwelling. The fairies had put, in crystal Chinese white, many ferns
and much delicate but tangled tracery upon the panes of the kitchen,
yet through them the flaxen-headed stranger saw a round face, and a
pair of bright blue eyes. The door was then opened and the head asked:
'Who are you?'
'A poor wretch, tired, ill, lame and hungry. If you will but let me
go into the kitchen a rug will serve me for the night.'
'You're the same one, bad luck to you, that so irrithated the
masther?'
'I merely asked him for shelter. I said nothing else,' replied the
Lifter, in his very softest and, meekest tone. 'I am a poor Catholic
boy, and the Protestants about here have no mercy on us.'
He had guessed Bridget's religion from her tone.
'Divil a bit of me blaives you're a Catholic. Not one.'
'In the name of the Father, and of the Son, etc.,' said the Lifter,
piously crossing himself. 'And I can give it to you as the priest
does in the morneen at the mass, _"In nomine Patris, et Filio et
Spiritu Sancti!"_' again crossing himself. 'And I have been at
confesheen, and said this,' striking his breast, "Mea culpa, mea
culpa, mea maxima culpa."'
'O begorra, you're one right enough, God bless you; come in out o'
the cowld, you poor cratur.' Now the truth is that The Lifter was not
a Roman Catholic, but he made himself acquainted with a little of
everything to serve him in his diabolical profession.
Poor Bridget tended him as she would a weakly infant, and made many
enquiries touching his friends, pursuits, etc., all of which he
answered promptly, in his smooth, insinuating voice. Indeed, before
he was in Bridget's company an hour he hobbled over and kissed her,
whereupon she blushed, put up her apron, and said that he was
'revivin' purty fast since he got into the hait ov the fire.'
'My, but your poor knee must be very sore,' she said, looking at the
huge swathing that enveloped that part of his body. 'What's the
matter wid it? An evil?'
'Ah, yes, Bridget; a runneen sore. My life has been ebbeen through
that hole since I was a child of twelve.'
Poor Bridget looked with moistened eyes upon the smooth-faced
sufferer; and he struggled to his feet again, and saluted her
wholesome lips.
The reader, of course, is not imposed upon by The Lifter. Inside
these ostentatious wrappings our convert carried his skeleton keys,
picklocks and screw-drivers; instead of a 'runneen sore' upon the
knee, he had an entire tool chest there; yea, little files with teeth
so fine that the noise they made would not be nearly so loud as the
gnawing of a mouse.
Wonderful stories did the converted robber tell to Bridget before
the glowing fire that winter's evening; and when the last sounds of
the retiring inmates had died away he was not yet ended. Neither was
Bridget willing to part from such sweet and interesting company. The
sleek rascal saw this, and looking slyly into Bridget's delf-blue
eyes, he said,
'Only for my affliction I think I might get some girl to marry me.'
Bridget sighed and looked down upon his amber hair. Indeed, if The
Lifter is to be believed, she passed her fingers caressingly through
these insinuating locks.
When the visitor was certain that everyone was asleep, he arose, and
looking about him, said,
'This must be a very large house. Many rooms in it?'
'Oi; a morthal large number.'
'I have never seen the house of a rich man. Would you show me
through? My eyes are acheen to see the valuable furniture and things.'
'Aisy, till they get asleep, my lammie.' He was so gentle that he
suggested a lamb to her Milesian imagination. He therefore told her
some new version of the banishment of frogs from the Island of Saints
by St. Patrick, and expounded the trinitine mysteries of the three-leaved
clover. She was delighted; and I believe that had he 'popped the
question,' she would have said 'Yes, me darlint,' straightway.
Presently the two are making a tour of the lower part of the house,
and The Lifter expresses his wonder at the luxury by a series of
aspirated 'Oh's!'
'This is his library; that place beyant.'
'Let me see _it,'_ quoth the Lifter; and the two went silently
in.
'And that little room at the far end; what's that?' said the visitor.'
'Oh, I couldn't show you that at all, at all. It's locked; bekaise
he keeps all his money there.'
'Ah; he's a miser,' The Lifter said in a low voice. 'Show me where I
am to sleep.'
She would put him in the attic, but he refused. The kitcheen was
good enough for him, if she'd just bring him a pillow to put under
his head, and a rug to throw over him.
This at last she consented to do; then stooping down she sturdily
hugged his green, hypocritical head, kissed him square on the lips,
and went to bed.
'Don't go till I give you some breakfast, me poor dear,' she said as
the went. He _looked_ his gratitude.
'I shall be waiteen when you come down--(to himself) for the capteen
to divide the plunder. But I'll divide mine with the poor;' and he
laid himself across the rug to listen. For an hour or better he
remained there, and then set up a low but regular snore. For this
cunning invader had a notion in his head that Bridget might possibly
be hovering still about the lower regions. For five minutes the
monotonous, low-rolling snores went up, and then there was a creaking
upon the stairs. It was quite plain, and evidently near at first; but
The Lifter was soon satisfied that the listener had gone to bed. He
had no doubt that it was Bridget, whose honest heart perhaps misgave
her after leaving the house at a stranger's mercy. But she was
evidently off her guard now, and had retired in good earnest.
Upon the kitchen table stood a candle, and this, after the lapse of
another half-hour, the convert took into his hand. Moving noiselessly
as a cat he entered the great drawing-room, but did not yet venture
to light his candle. Once into the library he breathed more freely,
for light could not be seen or sound heard from this retired and
distant part of the mansion. The glare from the dip was small in
circumference, and yellow as tarnished brass, but it revealed plainly
enough the locks of the door to the secret room. Unwinding the
bandage about his leg he laid his tools upon the carpet and then
began operations.
At first he introduced a long key hooked a little at the point, and
with this he began to probe, and feel, and measure. A gleam came into
his eyes as he drew it forth. Then he selected two keys and looking
first at one and then at the other, decided, in a second or two in
favour of the larger. This he inserted; and in a moment a bolt turned
back with a slow, dull sound. Turning the knob, he pushed the door,
and was inside the secret chamber. This room was certainly a 'Camera
obscura;' for it had no windows or any outlet save the door by which
the robber had entered. In the most distant corner was a vault, the
door of which was fastened by heavy clamps of steel and padlocks. But
the padlocks were of the very kind with which The Lifter was most
familiar; and ere a minute elapsed the heavy bolts were let down. But
it took all the muscle of which the robber was master to open the
ponderous door; and when it did move out, snowing the dark cavity
through the yawning mouth, it gave no squeak; for the operator had
deftly placed a few drops of oil within the hinges.
'_Fortuna favet trepidis_,' he said, never having heard of an
accusative case.
The next moment he was kneeling before the safe and studying the
difficulties that lay in his way. The combinations that so completely
defy the pick-lock in these modern days were not known then; so that
after five minutes' operations, the convert had the heavy metal door
open.
He expected no doubt to find the coin in one great glittering heap,
but he was mistaken; for the cautious miser had twelve compartments
in the safe, each one of which was secured by two locks, no one of
which resembled the other.
'This,' thought the prying gentleman,' reminds one of the story of
the Sleepen Beauty--it was so hard to get near her. Drageens,
serpents, firey horses, and terrible birds with steel bills. But here
goes.'
One compartment was soon opened, and from this our friend drew a
little tin box which was also locked. It was very heavy, but The
Lifter had no mind to carry away possibly a bit of lead. So he opened
the box, and found a mass of sovereigns, shining as if they had just
come from the mint.
'All right,' he muttered, and laid them upon the floor.
At this instant, a mouse ran across the floor, and then about a
dozen others, shrieking like a sharp blast of autumn wind. The Lifter
rose to his feet and glanced about, and then shaded the feeble glim
with his hand.
Many of the locks that he found were very intricate, and more than
two hours passed away ere he secured the contents of five of the
lockers. Then it seemed to him as if he heard a noise outside,
indistinct at first, but very soon audible enough. The noise
resembled the cry of an angry bear, and this he knew to be a signal
from the chief calling him forth.
'I will not go till I get one more locker open,' he thought; and
then set at work again with his pick-locks and skeleton keys. This
compartment was the easiest of all rifled; the box of coin was
secured and put into his sack. He then carefully closed and relocked
the doors, hoisted his bag, now extremely heavy, upon his back, and
retraced his steps.
The door of the secret room he likewise carefully reclosed; then
passed through the library, the drawing-room, and into the kitchen.
There was no stir, and he laid his bag of booty upon the bed which
poor Bridget had so kindly spread for him. The cat, a great male
tortoiseshell, came from the corner with tail erect and back curved,
and he rubbed his handsome side, against The Lifter who calmly
proceeded to put on his boots.
The robber did not show the least anxiety but calmly proceeded, by
the light of his candle, to tie his boots and prepare himself for a
start. When tightening the lace in his last boot, he thought that he
heard a noise upon the stairs; but it ceased and he went on with his
work. Then there was a sudden rush as if somebody were descending
many steps at once; and simultaneously with the rush a loud cry.
'Buglahs! Buglahs!'
'The d--d nigger,' the Lifter ejaculated, and seizing his booty he
made a plunge for the door, which, with his usual precaution, he had
unlocked before going upon his exploit. Through the door he escaped
safely enough, but he had scarcely reached the yard before the
negro--the same, by the way, to whom my readers have already been
introduced--was upon him.
'Help, mates, help!' shouted The Lifter, as he felt the hand of the
darkey tighten about his throat.
'Help, buglahs, buglahs!' shouted at the same time the faithful
negro; and in response to the alarm, there was a hurrying of many
feet inside, and much hallooing.
But it was too late with the Ethiopean; for as the word 'buglahs,'
issued the second time from his lips, he was struck upon the head
with a club and knocked senseless.
'Here,' said The Lifter, 'take this,' handing the bag of booty to
Murfrey.
In an instant the band of desperadoes were making their flight
through the pines; but not before several bullets had been sent
whizzing among them. At the roadside stood the horses, and each man
vaulted into the saddle.
'Here, Capteen, you better have the shiners,' the Lifter said,
taking the heavy and rather clumsy sack from Joe, and flinging it
across the croup of his father's saddle. 'It is worth carrying, and
worth fighting for.' Then the robbers were away over the frosty road
like a sudden blast of a wintry wind.