TOM RAIN AND JACOB.
It was Saturday evening; and Rainford was proceeding up Gray's Inn Lane,
wrapped in his white great coat, and with a woollen "comforter" reaching
up almost to his nose, when he suddenly felt some one pull him by the
sleeve.
He turned round, and, by the light of a lamp, beheld the lad Jacob.
"Well, you young rascal!" exclaimed Tom—but with an anger more affected
than real, for he was not a man to cherish vindictive feelings towards
an enemy so utterly unworthy his resentment as that pale, weak, and
sickly boy: "I wonder you have the face to accost me, after joining in
that abominable scheme to intrude upon the privacy of my dwelling three
or four nights ago."
"I hope you will forgive me, Mr. Rainford," said the lad: "for you
_must_ know," added he emphatically, "it wasn't altogether my fault. I
was bound to obey the man who gave me food. But do you know, sir, what
has become of _him_? Oh! Mr. Rainford—I am well aware that he _did_
deserve punishment at your hands; but—pray forgive me—I hope——"
"You hope that I did not kill him?" said the highwayman in a deep,
hollow-toned voice. "Why—do you suppose that I am a likely person to
commit murder—intentionally?"
"Oh! no—no," replied the boy. "And yet——"
"And yet what?" asked Rainford.
"And yet it is so strange that he should never have been seen at any of
his usual haunts," added Jacob.
"Come along with me," said Rainford abruptly. "We cannot stand talking
in the street—and I want to have some conversation with you. But do you
know any place close at hand—any public-house, I mean—where we could
have a private room for an hour or so?"
"Yes, sir," replied Jacob, after a moment's reflection. "This way."
He turned abruptly down into a narrow, dark, dirty thoroughfare, called
Baldwin's Gardens, and conducted the highwayman into a low public-house,
where, upon inquiry, they were immediately accommodated, with a private
room on the second floor.
Rainford ordered the fire to be lighted and a bottle of wine to be
brought up; and when these instructions were complied with, he renewed
the conversation with Jacob.
"And so nothing has been heard of Old Death?" he said, in as tranquil a
manner as he could assume.
"Nothing," replied Jacob. "A man named Josh Pedler called at Bunce's
this morning early, and wanted to see Mr. Bones, on account of a thief,
known as Tim the Snammer, who was to go up before the magistrate to-day;
and it appears that Mr. Bones had promised to get him off. Pedler was in
a dreadful way when he heard that we hadn't seen any thing of the old
man for two or three days; and he swore that it was all a hoax, and that
Bones wanted to stick to the money that had been paid him, and shirk the
job. Then comes a girl about an hour afterwards; and she said she was
Tim the Snammer's wife—Mutton-faced Sal they call her;—and a deuce of a
rumpus she made also."
"Do you know a person called Tidmarsh?" demanded Rainford, after a few
moments' reflection—for he was anxious to learn if the boy were
acquainted with the establishments in Turnmill and Red Lion Streets.
"I know him by name very well—and that's all," replied Jacob. "He is a
fence, and lives somewhere in Clerkenwell. But pray tell me, Mr.
Rainford, if you know what has become of the old man."
"I can tell you nothing about him, my boy," said the highwayman. "Surely
he was not so very kind to you——"
"He kind! Oh! no—far from that!" cried Jacob, in a tone of evident
sincerity. "But I was so dependant on him, that—unless I turn thief
again—as I once was——"
He stopped short, and burst into tears.
"My poor lad," said Tom Rain, affected by this ebullition of grief on
the part of the wretched boy, "if you are afraid of wanting bread, you
may banish those alarms—at least for the present."
And he threw a handful of sovereigns upon the table.
"Are these for me?" cried Jacob, scarcely able to believe his eyes.
"Yes—every one of them," answered the highwayman. "But on this
condition—that you tell me how Old Death discovered my _late_ abode in
Lock's Fields, and what was his object in entering it along with you and
that sneaking fellow, Toby Bunce."
"I will tell you all—everything I know, Mr. Rainford," exclaimed Jacob.
"But," he added slowly, "you will find that I do not deserve this
kindness at your hands."
"I can scarcely blame you for obeying the person on whom you were
dependant," said the highwayman. "Come—gather up the money, and make
haste with your information."
As Jacob secured the gold about his person, his dark eyes were lighted
up, and his cheeks were flushed with a glow of animation.
"I can tell you much more than you suppose, Mr. Rainford," he resumed in
a few moments; "and if I begin at the proper place, what I have to say
will go farther back than the affair the other night in Lock's Fields."
"Then begin with the beginning, Jacob," said Tom, lighting a cigar.
"There—drink another glass of wine; and now fire away. But mind and tell
me nothing save the truth; for I shall soon see if you are deceiving
me."
"I won't deceive you, Mr. Rainford," cried the boy; "and will soon
convince you that I am in earnest. Besides, it is my interest to make a
friend of you—even if it wasn't my inclination. And now to begin. You
remember the morning you was had up at Bow Street? Well—Old Death had
told me to watch you when you came out of Tullock's—to dog you about—to
find out where you lived and any thing else I could glean concerning
you."
"What was that for?" demanded Tom.
"He did not tell me _then_," answered Jacob; "but I have ascertained
since—and you will be able to guess by and bye. Well, I _did_ follow you
that morning—I saw you nabbed by Dykes, the runner—and I went up to
Bunce's to tell Old Death what had happened. Then he cut off to Watkins
and Bertinshaw, who came and bailed you. I was ordered to watch about
the police-court, and see where you went to; and I followed you to Pall
Mall—then I dogged you back again—and when the Jewess's case was over, I
lost sight of you somehow or another."
[Illustration]
"And you duly made your report to Old Death?" said Tom inquiringly.
"Of course," replied Jacob. "Two or three days afterwards I was set to
watch you again, when you left Bunce's one afternoon; and I followed you
down to an eating-house in the Strand. You stayed there about two hours;
and at length you came out with a tall, handsome young gentleman——"
"Ah! I recollect!" cried the highwayman: "it was Clarence Villiers. But
go on, my boy."
"I only mention all these little things to convince you that I am
telling the exact truth," said Jacob. "Well—from the Strand I followed
you and the gentleman as far as Bridge Street, Blackfriars, where you
parted. I dogged you, Mr. Rainford, over to the Elephant and Castle
Tavern, where you met a lady and the little boy——"
"Yes—Charley Watts!" ejaculated the highwayman, gradually becoming more
interested in Jacob Smith's narrative, because each successive step
thereof afforded fresh evidence of its truth.
"You joined the lady and the little boy," continued Jacob; "and when you
all stopped for a short time at the window of a jeweller's shop, the
lady lifted up her veil—and I knew her again."
"Ah!" cried Tom, with a sudden start.
"Yes, sir,—I recognised Miss Esther de Medina——But are you angry, sir?
have I said anything to offend you?"
"No—no, Jacob," returned the highwayman, the cloud which had gathered
upon his countenance suddenly disappearing. "Go on, my boy."
"Then I saw you take the lady and the little boy into the shop, and you
bought a pair of ear-rings, which you gave to the lady; and as you came
out again, I heard you say to her, '_This present is a kind of
recompense for the diamonds which I made you give up_,'—or something to
the same meaning."
"Yes—I remember that I did make use of those or similar words!" cried
Rainford. "But how the deuce did it happen that I never once caught a
glimpse of you?"
"Oh! sir—I acted with so much caution," replied the lad; "and then you
did not suspect that you was watched."
"True!" said Tom thoughtfully. "And of course you reported all this to
Old Death?"
"I followed you on to Lock's Fields, and then returned to Seven Dials,
where I told Mr. Bones and Mrs. Bunce all I had seen and heard."
"And what did they say? Tell me every thing, Jacob," exclaimed the
highwayman.
"They seemed very much surprised to think that you and Miss Esther were
intimate together——"
Jacob suddenly paused—for again did a dark cloud overspread Tom Rain's
countenance.
"Go on, Jacob," he said, observing that the lad was alarmed. "I am
subject to a sudden pain——but it is nothing at all. Go on, I say. You
were telling me that Old Death and that disgusting woman, Mrs. Bunce,
were very much astonished at a certain circumstance. Well—and what did
they say?"
"They asked me whether either you, sir, or the lady took any little
thing—when the jeweller's back was turned," replied Jacob, timidly; "but
I assured them that you did not."
A scornful smile curled the highwayman's lips and then he puffed away
violently at his cigar—apparently wrapped in deep reflection.
"Shall I tell you any more, sir?" asked Jacob, when a few minutes of
profound silence had elapsed.
"Yes, my boy: go on!" cried Tom, turning towards him again.
"The very next night," resumed Jacob, "Mr. Bones and me were walking
down Southampton Row, Russell Square, you know—when I observed Miss
Esther de Medina in a shop——"
"Where there was a post-office?" ejaculated the highwayman, hastily.
"Just so, sir. And she was reading a letter," continued Jacob. "Then me
and Old Death followed her down to another post-office—it was in
Holborn—where she posted a letter which she had with her. I crept close
up to her and saw the address on it just before she dropped it into the
box."
"And what was that address?" demanded Rainford.
"_T. R., No. 5, Brandon Street, Lock's Fields_," was the answer.
"And you of course told _that_ to Old Death?"
"Yes—and he desired me to follow the lady to see where she lived; which
I did, and traced her to Great Ormond Street. Then I went back to
Bunce's, and acquainted Mr. Bones with this fact also. He was very much
pleased; and soon afterwards you came in. He then told you about going
to Shooter's Hill to stop a tradesman and his wife; but I afterwards
found out that it was only a gag to get you out of the way next night."
"Ah! I thought as much!" cried Rainford. "And now, I suppose, we come to
the visit which Mr. Bones, Toby Bunce, and yourself paid to my
lodgings?"
"Exactly so," said Jacob. "Early the next morning I was ordered by Old
Death to post myself all day long in Great Ormond Street, and see that
Miss Esther didn't go out. I kept watch, and saw her several times at
the window just for a moment: so I knew she was at home. In the evening
Old Death and Mr. Bunce came and fetched me, and we went over to a
public-house opposite your lodgings in Brandon Street. On the way I
learnt what they meant to do; for it was to carry off the boy——"
"Poor little Charley Watts!" ejaculated Rainford, totally unprepared for
this announcement. "But what harm had he done to them? or what could
they want with him?"
"I don't exactly know, sir," replied Jacob. "Indeed, I don't think Toby
Bunce knew himself. But I can't help thinking that it was somehow or
another connected with a certain letter which Old Death let fall, and
which I picked up and kept. It bears the signature of _Sarah Watts_——"
"The poor woman who died at Bunce's house!" cried the highwayman. "Where
is that letter?"
"Here, sir," answered Jacob; and with these words he produced the
document from his pocket, and handed it to Tom Rain.
The highwayman hastened to peruse it with the greatest interest and
attention; but he was evidently disappointed when he perceived that it
afforded no clue to the person to whom it was originally intended to be
sent.
"I shall keep this letter, Jacob," he said, after some minutes of
profound reflection.
"Do so, Mr. Rainford," returned the lad. "And now you see that I am
acting sincerely with you."
"Quite," remarked the highwayman, in an absent manner; for he suddenly
remembered the circumstance of Old Death declaring that he had lost a
particular letter on the memorable night which was marked with so many
strange occurrences. "Yes, Jacob," he continued, after a long pause,
"you are right. It must have been in connexion with this letter that the
old man wanted to carry off the boy. Perhaps he had discovered some clue
to unravel the mystery of Charley's birth, and meant to turn the secret
to his own advantage? But, if so, he must have had some better trace
than this letter, which certainly says a great deal, and yet leaves the
one grand point—_who Charley's mother really is_—in complete darkness!
However," added Tom, who had been musing aloud, rather than addressing
his remarks to Jacob, "time will perhaps clear up all."
"You see, sir," continued Jacob, "I was set to watch in Great Ormond
Street to find out whether Miss Esther went over to you——"
"To _me_!" ejaculated Rainford, as if taken by surprise. "But—go on, my
boy—go on!"
And as I knew that she was at home when Old Death and Toby Bunce came to
join me there," pursued the lad, "we of course thought it was all right.
You may, therefore, judge how Old Death and me were surprised, when we
went up into the bed-room at your lodgings——"
"Enough of that, Jacob!" cried Rainford, starting uneasily. "And now
tell me why Old Death seemed so anxious all along to find out every
thing he could about me?"
"Lord! sir, can't you guess?" exclaimed the boy. "He knew that you could
be useful to him, and he wanted to get you completely into his power. By
knowing all that concerned you, he——"
"I understand, Jacob," again interrupted the highwayman; "and it is just
as I suspected. You are a good lad for telling me all this—and I will
not leave you to want—in case," he added hastily, "your old master
should not happen to turn up again. But I do not think I shall stay many
days in London, Jacob. However, I will see you again shortly—and we will
have a talk together about what is best to be done for you. One word, by
the bye—do you know how this letter which you gave me, happened to fall
into Old Death's hands?"
"Not all, sir—unless Mrs. Bunce found it about the poor woman who died
the other night at her house."
"That is what I suspect," observed Rainford. "Indeed, it must have been
so. The deceitful woman!—after my paying her so handsomely, to keep back
the document! But it has found its way to my pocket at last, in spite of
her and Old Death. And now, Jacob, tell me about yourself. How long have
you been in the service of Mr. Benjamin Bones?"
"I wish you had time sir," said the boy, "to listen to my story: it
would be a relief to me to tell it—for I already feel towards you as I
never felt to any one before. Indeed, I was sorry to be employed against
you in any way: but I couldn't help myself. I remember the evening that
I watched you over to Lock's Fields:—I was so moved—I hardly can
describe how—at seeing that little boy Charley with you; for I thought
how good you were towards him, and what an excellent heart you must
have,—and when I got back to Bunce's, I couldn't pluck up courage to
tell Old Death any thing about you, for fear he might mean you some
injury. However," added Jacob, wiping his eyes, "he _did_ get it all out
of me at last——"
"Never mind, my lad," interrupted Rainford, moved by Jacob's contrition:
"all you have told me this evening has fully atoned for the mischief you
previously did me. Besides, as I before said, you were forced to obey
your master. And now," he added, after referring to his handsome gold
repeater, "I don't mind if I sit another hour with you here; and while I
smoke my cigar, you shall tell me the history of your life."
"I will, sir," exclaimed the boy, eagerly. "But I warn you beforehand it
is a long one—that is, if I tell it as I should like to do."
"Tell it in your own way, my boy," cried Rainford; "and never mind the
length."
The highwayman settled himself in a comfortable manner in his chair; and
Jacob proceeded to relate the history of his life.