ANOTHER DEED OF INFAMY BROUGHT TO LIGHT.
The scene was now a striking one.
In that small chamber—the shutters of which were securely closed,—by the
light of a dimly-burning candle, two men of criminal avocations but of
entirely discrepant characters, were seated opposite to each other,—one
fastened, pinioned to a large arm-chair—the other placed in a determined
attitude against the heavy oaken table.
Fear and vague alarms rendered the always repulsive countenance of Old
Death now truly hideous; while excitement and a certain air of bold
triumph invested the features of the highwayman with an expression which
made him appear perfectly, though sternly handsome.
The gleaming eyes of Old Death flickered in sparkles beneath his shaggy,
overhanging brows—for fierce, ferocious malignity mingled with the
terrors that oppressed him;—while Rainford surveyed him with combined
abhorrence and contempt.
"Thirty years and ten months have elapsed," said the highwayman sternly,
"since one Benjamin Bones sold his half-sister Octavia to a nobleman who
purchased the prize of her virtue for gold!"
For a few moments a dead silence ensued, after these words had fallen
from the lips of Rainford: but, when that interval was past, a wild—a
savage—a, hyena-like howl, expressive of mingled rage and astonishment,
burst from the lips of Old Death.
"Silence, miscreant!" exclaimed the highwayman, in a tone and with a
manner of terrible earnestness. "Ah! I have doubtless surprised you by
this announcement—this denunciation of a secret that you little deemed
to be known to me!"
"My God! who are you?—how came you to learn that secret?" demanded the
old fence, writhing in the agony of suspense and wild excitement.
"I will tell you who I am presently," was the answer: "and you will also
see wherefore I have compelled you to conduct me hither this night."
"Then you _had_ another motive, besides the mere wish to become
acquainted with my abode?" said Old Death, perceiving that he had been
over-reached in this respect—as indeed he had for the last half-hour
suspected.
"Fool!" ejaculated Rainford, contemptuously: "of what use was it to me
to know where you lived, or to visit your secret repositories of
plunder, unless I had some essentially important motive? The fact of
your having discovered my abode gave me in truth but little
uneasiness—for I could have moved elsewhere in a few hours. That fact,
however, furnished me with an apparent excuse to force you to conduct me
to _your_ den; for I knew that were I to acquaint you with my real
object in coming here, you would have risked every thing to prevent it!"
"Again I say, who _are_ you?" demanded Old Death, a kind of
superstitious awe now taking possession of him.
"Listen to me," said Rainford. "Nearly thirty-one years have elapsed
since you sold your half-sister Octavia Manners for the gold which laid
the foundation of the immense fortune you have amassed. Yes—this
atrocious deed was perpetrated; and one of England's proudest peers was
the purchaser of that young creature's virtue—for she was but sixteen,
old man, when her ruin was effected through your vile agency! She was
sold to the embrace of a man old enough to be her father—aye, even her
grandfather;—and the affection which she entertained for a deserving
youth in her own sphere of life, was blighted—crushed! She died of a
broken heart—leaving behind her a male child whom _you_ swore to
protect!"
Old Death seemed to recoil from this averment as from a hideous spectre
suddenly starting up before him; for, in spite of his confirmed
wickedness, the present topic had awakened painful reminiscences and
compunctious feelings within him.
"Yes," continued Rainford, fixing his eyes reproachfully upon the old
fence; "she forgave you on her death-bed—forgave you the wrong that you
did her,—forgave you, because you promised to make amends for your
conduct towards her by your behaviour to the babe whom she left to your
charge."
"And who can say that I did not fulfil my promise?" demanded Old Death,
trembling in suspense at what might be the nature of the reply which
Rainford would give.
"Who can say that you did not fulfil your promise?" repeated the
highwayman, in a slow—deliberate—bitter tone, while his eyes appeared to
send daggers to the heart of the old man bound helplessly in the chair.
"There is damning evidence against you in that respect!"
"Where?—how?" ejaculated Old Death.
"You shall soon learn," replied Rainford. "The nobleman who had
_purchased_ your half-sister, provided liberally for the support of her
child—_their_ child—and gave a large sum to be used for the offspring of
that sad connexion. But you——"
"I—I did my duty—towards the child," stammered Old Death, "till—it
died——"
"Liar!" thundered Rainford, advancing in an appallingly menacing manner
towards the helpless, captive wretch. "You sold the child to a tribe of
gipsies——"
"Mercy! mercy!" groaned Old Death. "Do not kill me, Tom—do not hurt me!
I am in your power—spare me!"
Rainford had raised his pistol as if to dash the butt-end against the
forehead of the old man: but, mastering his passion, he consigned the
weapon to his pocket—for he was afraid to trust his hand with it while
his excitement was so terrible.
"Mercy, indeed!" exclaimed Rainford in a tone of bitter hatred, not
unmingled with contempt: "what mercy did you show towards that hapless
child? When Octavia Manners was on her death-bed, that nobleman to whom
you sold her virtue, visited her—implored her forgiveness—and placed in
your hands a thousand guineas to ensure a provision for the boy."
[Illustration]
"My God!" ejaculated Old Death, a terrible suspicion now flashing like
lightning to his mind: "how can you know all this?—even if——you,
yourself——"
"Yes—_I_ am the son of that nobleman and your half-sister Octavia!"
cried Rainford, placing himself in front of Old Death, on whom he gazed
with eyes flashing fire from beneath sternly contracted brows.
"Spare me—spare me!" murmured the wretched man, hanging down his
head—for the glances of his injured nephew seemed to scorch and sear his
very heart's core.
"Look up—look up!" thundered the highwayman; "and meet the gaze of him
whom, when a child, you sold to gipsies—sold, that you might grasp all
the gold which was supplied to you for my benefit! Yes—you sold me to
strangers—even making a profit of me by the very way in which you rid
yourself of my presence in your dwelling! Had it not been for your
treachery—your vile avarice in this respect, I might have grown up to be
an honest man. But, no—no," added Rainford bitterly—and a tear trembled
on his eye-lash,—"had you kept me with you, I should have been
worse—aye, a myriad, myriad times worse than I even now am!"
At the imperious command of the highwayman, Old Death had raised his
head; and Rainford then beheld a countenance so fearfully distorted with
varied emotions, that he felt he was already partially avenged in having
been able to produce such a powerful effect on that aged—that inveterate
sinner.
"What do you mean to do to me, Tom?" asked the hideous old fence, now
more than ever trembling for his life.
"Not to harm your person," replied the highwayman scornfully:
"especially," he added, in a tone of bitter sarcasm, "as you and I can
boast of kinship. But I am wearied of the life I am leading—and my aim
is to settle in some foreign clime, where the evil reputation of my
deeds in this may not follow me. There are times when I abhor
myself—happy, reckless, and indifferent as I usually seem;—for my career
has been marked with many a deed at which I blush—all robber, plunderer
that I am! And this discourse, which has turned upon the foul crime
perpetrated against the honour and happiness of my mother—Oh! it has
reminded me of _one_ act in _my_ life that presses sorely—God knows how
heavily upon my conscience!"
Rainford walked thrice up and down the room, apparently oblivious of the
presence of Old Death, who had never before seen him exhibit so much
painful emotion.
"But regrets are useless—save as they prepare our minds for a better
course of life," exclaimed Rainford, abruptly starting from his reverie:
then, again confronting Old Death, he said, "And now comes the moment of
punishment for all your misdeeds towards me!"
The fence groaned audibly.
"Fear not for your life," continued the highwayman: "I am no
murderer:—my hands were never stained with blood—neither shall they be
now! But, in regaining that which is my own—and with interest—aye,
compound interest, too—I shall teach a heartless, grasping wretch a
lesson that may render him more cautious in future how he sacrifices
every human tie at the shrine of avarice! For even amongst such as
you—such as I—such as the veriest wretches whose villany has helped to
fill these stores,—the claims of kinship—the bonds of relationship have
a recognition and a name. Many and many a man who is noted for his
misdeeds—or who has even shed the blood of a fellow-creature—would
respect the vow which he pledged to rear his dead sister's child. But
you—_you_ ruthlessly thrust away the helpless infant,—you cast off the
offspring of that connexion which your own fearful thirst for gold had
brought about! Now, then, shall I punish you through the medium of that
passion which prompted you to sell my mother to the nobleman, and myself
to the gipsy!"
With these words Rainford advanced close up to his prisoner, and said in
a short, commanding manner, "The key of that safe—where is it?"
"The key?" repeated Old Death, his countenance becoming ghastly white.
"Yes—the key!" cried the highwayman; and he thrust his hands into the
pockets of his captive's grey coat.
"No—no: you shall not have my gold!" howled the fence, agitating
convulsively on his chair.
"Keep quiet!" thundered Rain; "or I shall do you a mischief yet! Keep
quiet, I say.—Ah! here is the key! And now roll about, and rave, and
foam as you will—I care not!"
"Villain! what are you doing?" exclaimed Old Death, his eyes glaring
with ferocious hate—with infernal spite—with blood-thirsty
malignity,—glaring, indeed, like those of a famished tiger caught in the
snare of the hunter, and beholding a stately deer at a little distance:
"what are you doing? You are going to rob me—to plunder me—after all I
have done for you—all the good things I have put in your way! But I will
be revenged yet—I will send you to the scaffold—I will wreak a terrific
vengeance on your head. Keep off, I say—touch not that safe! Damnation
light upon you!—perdition seize you! Oh! Tom—dear Tom—don't rob
me—don't! You'll drive me to despair—I shall die of grief—and you will
be my murderer Tom—do listen to me! Ah! he opens the safe—the wretch—the
villain!"
Thus did Old Death menace and pray—coax and moan by turns; but at last
his voice swelled into a howl of fiend-like rage, which rose like the
wailing of a damned soul upon the silence of that early morning-hour.
But Rainford seemed indifferent alike to his earnest beseechings and his
paroxysms of fury.
That last, ferocious outburst of rage had completely exhausted the old
man; and gasping as if under the influence of strangulation, he fell
back in the seat to which he was fastened by the strong cords. But his
convulsive motions—his hollow, flashing eyes—his parched lips—and the
quivering of his hands, denoted how acutely—how keenly he felt the work
of depredation that was in progress.
For Rainford had opened the safe, and was now busily engaged in
examining the various drawers, and also sundry pocket-books which he
found therein. The former contained hoards of gold coins, and the latter
were filled with Bank-notes, making an aggregate of immense value.
The highwayman secured about his person a sum of five thousand pounds,
murmuring to himself, "This is sufficient to enable me to become an
honest man: I will not leave the old villain penniless."
He then searched the safe for any private papers that might be deposited
there; and in a drawer which he had well-nigh overlooked, he found a
small leather case containing a roll of letters, tied round with a piece
of riband so faded that it was impossible to determine what its colour
might have originally been. A single glance at these documents awakened
such emotions of mingled pleasure and pain within his breast, that he
determined to possess himself of them; and replacing them in the leather
case, he secured them about his person with even more care than he had
bestowed on the Bank-notes.
Having thus rifled the safe of as much as he chose to take away, he
closed the iron door, locked it, and placing the key on the table, said
to Old Death, "I am now about to take my departure from this house. Is
there any one living here besides yourself?"
The fence only stared at him in a fierce and sombre manner; for the
brain of the old man had become a chaos of wild and terrible thoughts at
the contemplation of the daring robbery which was thus practised on
_him_—the patron of robbers!
Indeed, the incidents of this eventful night were sufficient to level
the powers of a mind stronger even than that of Old Death,—for those
incidents had followed each other in such rapid, whirlwind-like
succession, and were all so hostile to his interests, that he felt as if
he were the victim of a hideous nightmare composed of all the most
frightful images that the terrors of a guilty conscience can possibly
conjure up during the long dark nights of winter.
The failure of his expedition to Lock's Fields—the exposure of his
treachery to Tom Rain—the discomfiture he had undergone in the presence
of Toby Bunce and the lad Jacob—the coercion exercised to force him to
discover the secrets of his receiving-house and the mysteries of his
store-rooms and dwelling-house—the discovery of his deeply injured
nephew in the highwayman, and the revival of the history of his villany
in reference to one long since dead,—and, lastly, the robbery of his
money and papers,—all these events, occurring with such consecutive
rapidity that they appeared to form but one single dreadful blow, were
sufficient to paralyse the energies of the old villain.
"Is there any one living in _this_ house besides yourself?" repeated
Rainford. "It is for your own good that I ask; for I shall leave you
bound in this chair—but, if you are really alone here, I will hasten to
drop your friend Tidmarsh a hint, that he may come presently and release
you, by which arrangement I shall get as long a start of you as I
require."
"There is no one here but myself," at length replied Old Death, aroused
from his torpor by the words thus addressed to him.
"Then good bye," said Tom; and, taking up the candle, he quitted the
room, heedless of the prisoner's intercession to be released from his
captivity.
On gaining the bed-chamber situate above the spiral staircase leading to
the subterranean passage, the highwayman remembered two circumstances
which made him pause ere he raised the trap-door.
In the first place he recalled to mind the anxiety of Old Death to
prevent him from securing the candle at the moment when they were about
to emerge from the secret avenue; and it struck Rainford that the old
man had intended to have extinguished the light as if by accident—but
whether for motives of treachery, or merely to avoid the discovery of
something that the fence wished to be concealed, Tom was at a loss to
conjecture.
Secondly, Rainford remembered that Old Death had manifested considerable
uneasiness when he had approached the first of the two doors opening
from that bed-chamber; and he now thought it probable that the fence had
been desirous of extinguishing the light in order to prevent Rainford
from observing that there were two doors in that room.
"At all events," said Tom to himself, "let us see where this other door
leads to."
It was unlocked—as he had expected to find it; because, had it been
otherwise, Old Death would not have manifested so much anxiety when he
had approached it on their entrance into the bed-chamber.
Proceeding with caution—so as not to incur the risk of having his light
extinguished, and equally to avoid any sudden surprise in case the house
might really have other occupants besides Old Death—Rainford entered a
spacious room which seemed to be fitted up as a chemical laboratory. On
a large oaken table were galvanic batteries, and an infinite variety of
electrical apparatus as well as the articles on which experiments are
usually made with the subtle fluid,—such as pieces of glass, amber,
sulphur, wax, silk, cotton, loaf sugar, phials containing a variety of
oils, metallic oxides, several common stones, metallic ores, the metals
and semi-metals, &c. Leyden jars, batteries, electrophori,
electrometers, discharging rods, &c., were also crowded together on the
table. In a large earthen pan under the table were the flayed carcasses
of several rabbits, frogs, and such vermin as rats and mice, all of
which appeared to have been only very recently stripped of their
skins—for they emitted no putrid smell, and the blood was still oozing
from them.
On a shelf were plaster of Paris casts of upwards of fifty heads of men
and monkeys. On the base of some of the heads there were inscriptions in
black letters, stating the originals from which the casts were made;
and, with a rapid glance, the highwayman read the principal ones, which
were these:—
ARTHUR THISTLEWOOD.
_Executed for High Treason, 1820._
DAVID HOGGART.
_Executed for Murder, 1821._
GEORGE BARRINGTON.
_The Notorious Pickpocket—died 1811._
HENRY FAUNTLEROY.
_Executed for Forgery, Nov., 1824._
JOHN THURTELL.
_Executed for Murder, 1824._
WILLIAM PROBERT.
_Executed for Horse-stealing, 1825._
There were casts from the heads of several other celebrated criminals;
but we need enumerate no more.
Intrepid—dauntless—bold as Tom Rain was, he nevertheless experienced a
cold shuddering as he surveyed the objects ranged upon that long shelf;
for this thought forced itself upon him—"_I wonder whether a cast of_ MY
_head will ever be there!_"
In order to chase these gloomy reflections from his mind, Rainford
turned away from the contemplation of the shelf and its sinister
contents. A cupboard-door stood partially open in one corner of the
room; and he hastened to inspect the recess.
But what pen can depict his horror—what language can describe his
astonishment, when upon a shelf within that cupboard he beheld four
human heads staring out at him with eyes wide open but perfectly
motionless, and on the pupils of which the rays of the candle flashed
with extraordinary brilliancy!
For an instant the highwayman felt afraid:—in what description of place
was he? what meant that ghastly spectacle?
But, conquering his terrors, of which indeed in another moment he was
ashamed, he approached nearer: and the idea struck him that he beheld
admirable models in wax. Still the flesh was so closely resembling that
of the dead—the appearance of the countenances and of the crown of the
heads, which were all closely shaven, was so natural, that he extended
his hand and touched the cheek of one of those appalling objects.
Great God! it was indeed human flesh,—icy cold, and producing a
sensation which the touch of naught beside _can_ produce!
In spite of himself, Rainford cast a shuddering glance around him: then,
once more ashamed of his weakness, he resumed his inspection of the
heads.
They were evidently prepared for preservation; for an odour of strong
spices emanated from them, and the eyes, fitted into the sockets, were
of glass. Hence the strange brilliancy produced by the reflection of the
candle.
The highwayman was still absorbed in the contemplation of these
frightful objects, when a door at the farther end of the room slowly
opened; and a man, enveloped in a loose dressing-gown, and holding a
lamp in his hand, appeared on the threshold.
But the instant he beheld Rainford, he uttered an ejaculation of
surprise and alarm—hastily retreated—and barred and bolted the door
behind him.
He had, however, been long enough in the room for Rainford to obtain a
full view of his countenance; and it was with profound astonishment that
the highwayman had recognised Dr. Lascelles!
"What!" he thought: "that respectable physician in league with Old
Death?"
And he stood for some moments gazing vacantly at the door by which the
doctor had entered and also so abruptly disappeared again.
Then it suddenly struck him that the physician might discover the state
of bondage in which Benjamin Bones had been left; and not only would the
immediate release of the old fence follow, but an active pursuit be
probably instituted by both individuals after himself.
He accordingly determined to beat a retreat as speedily as possible. Not
that he was afraid of encountering Old Death and the doctor; but he knew
not what principles of danger the establishment possessed, and which
might be turned against himself. He had seen quite enough of the house
in Turnmill Street and of that where he now was (in Red Lion Street) to
be well aware that they were no ordinary places of abode; and he was
also sufficiently well acquainted with the character of Old Death to
feel conscious that no mercy was to be expected at his hands, should he
fall completely into his power.
It is, therefore, no disparagement to the heroism of the highwayman to
state that he was now anxious to effect his exit from the strange place
wherein he found himself; and it naturally struck him that there must be
a more speedy and convenient avenue of egress than the subterranean. He
readily comprehended that the underground passage was used as a medium
of transferring goods from the house in Turnmill Street to the
store-rooms of the establishment in Red Lion Street; and that it might
also serve, at a pinch of need, as an avenue of escape for Old Death
from his own bed-room.
But that the subterranean was the only means of ingress and egress in
respect to the house in Red Lion Street, Tom could not for an instant
suppose; as a dwelling without a door, or with a door that was never
opened, would soon become an object of suspicion in the neighbourhood.
Judging by the direction of the subterranean passage, the highwayman was
enabled to conclude that the room in which he now found himself was at
the back of the house, and that the one where he had left Old Death was
in the front, as was also that into which Dr. Lascelles had retreated;
and he was moreover convinced that these apartments were all on a first
or upper storey, but decidedly not on the ground-floor.
Now as the laboratory, Old Death's bed-chamber and the larger store-room
formed the suite at the back of the house, and there was no flight of
stairs connecting them with the ground-floor, it was clear to Rainford
that the means of communication with that ground-floor must be from the
front part of the house; and into the rooms looking on the street he did
not choose to penetrate, because he might there encounter the doctor and
Old Death. He therefore came to the conclusion that he must escape by
the back part of the house, or else dare the subterranean.
All these calculations, which have occupied us some time to record, were
made and summed up in a few moments by Tom Rain.
Nor did he now hesitate what course to adopt.
Placing the candle upon the table, he hastened to throw up a window;
but, to his annoyance, he found it securely barred:—and his hand assured
him that the bars could not be removed by mere physical strength.
He had not time nor implements to attempt to force a way through this
difficulty; and the only alternative appeared to be the subterranean.
Resuming possession of the candle, he returned into Old Death's
bed-room—drew away the carpet—raised the trap-door—and commenced the
descent of the spiral staircase, closing the trap after him and bolting
it inside.
But scarcely had he proceeded ten steps downwards, when his foot
suddenly slipped; and, in the attempt which he made to recover himself,
the light went out.
At the same instant he heard heavy steps treading upon the trap-door
overhead, and then the hum of voices—but whose he could not
distinguish—in the room which he had just left.
"Now, Tom Rain, look alive, old fellow!" he murmured in self-encouraging
apostrophe; and, with a resolute step, he hastened rapidly down the
spiral staircase, amidst a darkness so intense that it was all but
_felt_!