Kitty had, in her half sleepy state, ran_The Mysteries and Miseries of San Francisco Showing up all the various characters and notabilities, (both in high and low life) that have figured in San Franciso since its settlement.

shaken it well.

‘Eh? Oh, ma’m, I beg your pardon, I think I am a little drowsy, you see,

ma’m.’

‘A little drowsy indeed! Plague take the girl, she is dead asleep. Go to

bed directly.’

‘Yes, ma’m.’

Kitty did manage to steer herself now clear of the various articles of

furniture in her mistress’s room, and to pass through the door that led

to her own, and in another moment she was again fast asleep.

‘Dear me,’ said the lady, ‘I do feel nervous to-night, to be sure, and I

don’t know why.’

Ting—ting—ting! went the little bell of her repeater watch as she

pressed the spring of it.

‘Three o’clock,’ she said. ‘Well, I’d better try to go to sleep, I

suppose, while I can.’

She did not utter another word, and in a few moments the most deathlike

silence was in the room again.

Blodget put his hand in the little circular hole in the door, and drew

up the bolt once more.

‘Curses upon all this delay,’ he said to himself, ‘we shall have the

daylight upon us soon.’

This was indeed so, as another hour would without doubt bring the dawn,

and then the situation of Blodget and his companions in iniquity would

be rather perilous.

There were many other circumstances which rendered it desirable to be

quick about the affair.

In the first place the collision with the watch had no doubt been, by

that time, communicated, and no doubt the police were active.

Then again, as the man in the house over the way had after all only been

stunned, there was no saying when he might sufficiently recover to give

an alarm.

From all these reasons Blodget felt the necessity of bringing the job to

a speedy end, and with such a determination he then crept very quietly

into the lady’s bed-room.

In the dim light of the bedchamber, he looked like some evil spirit as

he stood casting a broad shadow on the bed and its occupant.

For a moment, he considered what to do, and then he stepped up to the

bedside and said:—

‘Give any alarm and you die—be still and you live! Be quiet—quite quiet,

for your life’s sake.’

The terrified woman opened her eyes and uttered a faint cry.

‘Yes, ma’m,’ said Kitty from the next room.

‘Curse you!’ cried Blodget.

He took a revolver from his pocket, and held it to her head, saying in a

calm tone:—

‘If you wish to save your life you will be quiet. It is your jewels,

plate, and money I come for, not your life, but if you place it as an

obstacle in the way, that obstacle must be removed. You understand me.’

‘A robber?’

‘Yes.’

‘A house-breaker?’

‘Just so.’

‘Yes, ma’m,’ said Kitty, blustering into the room with her eyes half

shut as before. ‘Did you call me?’

‘Yes,’ said he, stepping up to her, and placing his hand right over her

mouth; and then in her ear he said—

‘Kitty, if you speak one word or utter one scream, or make the least

noise, I will cut your throat from ear to ear this moment.’

Kitty stopped short, and looked as if she had been suddenly turned to

stone. Blodget placed her in a chair, and catching up a handkerchief, he

tied it in her mouth, and round the back of her head, and so on to the

back of her chair, like a bit.

‘Now be quiet,’ he said.

Kitty sat profoundly still; indeed, her faculties had received such a

shock that it would be some time before she’d recover again.

The lady sat up in bed.

‘You wretch! What on earth do you want?’

‘Plate—jewels—money.’

‘There is my purse on the dressing-table—the plate is in the pantry down

stairs.’

‘And in the little secret cupboard at the back of this bed, you know it

is, madam.’

The lady uttered a groan.

‘I will trouble you to get up.’

‘Oh, no—no!’

‘But I say, oh, yes—yes. Now if you please.’

Without any further ceremony, Blodget took her by the arms, lifted her

out of the bed, and put her on the floor. He then went to the door and

cried, in a low tone—

‘Ben!’

‘I’m coming,’ said Ben, as he entered the room.

‘Keep watch over this lady, Ben.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘And if she tries to get away, or if she gives alarm, you will be so

good as to cut her throat, Ben.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘And don’t make a bungling job of it while you are about it. If you have

to do it all, do it with humanity—that is to say, do it at once and

effectually.’

‘Oh, yes; trust me for that, captain.’

The lady was now really alarmed.

Ben took from his pocket a large clasped knife, the blade of which he

opened in a ferocious kind of way with his teeth, and with that in his

hand, he kept an eye upon her.

Blodget now sprang upon the bed, and tearing down some of the hangings

from the back part of it, he saw a small square door in the wall. It was

not fastened.

No doubt the secrecy of the position of that receptacle for valuables

was much more relied upon by the lady than any sort of lock or

fastening.

The fact was, that when once it was found out that that was the hiding

place for the valuable property that could be put in it, the security

was gone.

No lock or bolt could for many moments have added to it in any shape or

way.

Blodget saw at once when he pulled open the door that he had received

correct information. Immediately within the little square door were some

shelves built in the thickness of the wall, and upon them a heap of

property of a valuable and portable nature.

Bracelets—rings—necklaces—watches—spoons—gold quartz—and jewellery of

all descriptions, met the gaze of the robber as he glanced upon the

shelves.

‘All right,’ said he.

The lady was a bold woman, and she had kept her eye upon Blodget, and

when she heard him say ‘All right,’ the thought that he had discovered

all her most valuable property drove her to an act of defiance.

‘Thieves!’ she said, and she raised a loud scream.

‘Kill her!’ said Blodget.

Ben had sprung to his feet, and made for the door of the room, although

he had his knife in his hand. The fact is, this fellow wanted the nerve

to be a murderer when any one resisted at all. He might have been an

assassin, but he had not the courage to engage in a struggle.

‘Kill her, I say!’ cried Blodget.

‘No, no!’ said the lady, and springing to her feet, she with a rush made

her way into the servant’s room; and slammed the door shut in Blodget’s

face.

‘Curses on her! you have let her escape.’

‘I could not help it,’ said Ben.

‘Here, there is no time to be lost now—she will rouse the neighborhood.

Take this pillow-case, which I have filled with the swag. We must be

content with it. I will see to her and be with you in a moment.’

‘Yes—yes, I will go—’

‘No further than the head of the stairs, though.’

‘No—no.’

Blodget made a rush at the door of the room into which she had

retreated; but it was too strong for him, and by great good fortune

there had chanced to be some very effectual mode of fastening it on the

inside. Blodget heard a lumbering noise in the room, that he could not

make out.

He called aloud,—‘No harm is intended you, and I will compromise the

matter with you, if you will be quiet.’

Something rolled upon the floor, and then hit the door a great knock

that shook it.

‘Confound her,’ said Blodget, ‘I know what she is doing now. She is

piling the furniture against the door, and that was the bedstead. I

say!’

Blodget heard a window thrown open, and then a voice calling out,—

‘Help!—help!—thieves!—thieves!—Murder!’

Blodget turned from the door. His eyes fell upon the young girl who was

tied to the chair, and in a moment he rushed up to her and untied her

head. Then shaking her to and fro, he said—

‘Listen to me. Do you hear me?’

‘Ye—e—es.’

‘Go to that door and call to your mistress that I have gone.’

‘Ye—e—es.’

‘At once, or I will cut your throat.’

The girl tottered to the door of the inner room, and called out in a

loud voice,—

‘Mistress, they have gone now. They have gone now. Open the door. It is

only me, Kitty.’

Kitty, in her fright, had done even more than Blodget had asked her. The

dread of death had sharpened the wits of the girl, so that she had seen

fully what was wanted of her, and she was willing at that moment to

think that self-preservation was indeed the very first law of nature,

even if it was taken in its most extended signification, and involved

the destruction of another.

‘That is right,’ said Blodget, as the girl tapped upon the panel of the

door of the inner room, and called to her mistress; ‘call her again, or

you die!’

‘Mistress!’

‘Who calls?’

‘It’s me, ma’m!’

‘Kitty?’

‘Yes, ma’m!’

‘How came you free?’

‘Oh, they have run away, ma’m!’

‘Open the front window, then, and call out for the police at once, do

you hear?’

‘Yes, ma’m!’

‘Tell her to open the door,’ said Blodget, ‘or mind your throat.’

‘Open the door, ma’m!’

‘No.’

‘Implore her to do so. Say you are hurt.’

‘Oh, I am hurt, ma’m! Do open the door.’

‘Hurt?’ said the lady, ‘You don’t mean that?’

Blodget heard from the voice that she must be just outside the door, or

rather, we may say with more precision, just on the other side of it.

Full of revengeful thoughts at the idea that she had endangered his

safety by her obstinate, and what we would call heroic, resistance to be

robbed, he determined on her destruction.

Placing a revolver within a couple of inches of the panel of the door,

and close to the side of the face of Kitty, although at the moment the

girl was too confused to see it, he fired.

The report was very stunning.

Kitty fell to the floor from fright with a loud scream.

‘Hush!’ said Blodget, as he held up his hands, in an attitude of

listening. ‘Hush!’

All was still.

A deep groan came from the inner room.

‘Ha! ha!’ cried Blodget. ‘I have hit her!’

It was at that moment that a shrill whistle sounded through the house,

and Blodget at once recognized it as the alarm that he had told the man

whose duty it was to stay at the outer door of the house to give in case

of danger.

‘It is all over,’ said Blodget, ‘and it will be a close touch now as

regards escape.’

He made his way to the door of the room, and was out in the corridor in

a moment.

‘Ben? Ben?’

‘Here I am, captain. Oh, Lord!’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing—only—only—’

‘Only what, idiot?’

‘I thought I heard somebody in trouble.’

‘How so?’

‘A pistol shot, captain, from your hands, I take it, is reason enough

for that.’

‘No, it is not. When you hear a pistol-shot from me again do not take it

into your head that somebody is in trouble.’

‘No?’

‘Certainly not; but you may pretty safely conclude that somebody’s

troubles are over.’

‘Oh, Lord!’

‘Come away at once now—there is no time to lose. Take care of the

bundle. Have you it?’

‘All safe.’

‘Follow me then.’

Blodget ran down stairs as quickly as he could, and by the time he got

to the hall he found that the whole four of the thieves he had brought

with him had assembled there, and were looking at each other by their

little pieces of lighted taper with something like consternation.

‘What is the matter?’ said Blodget.

‘Oh, captain, it’s all up.’

‘What is all up?’

‘All up with us. There is a force in the street of police. They don’t

seem to know which house it is, but they are on the look-out about

something being amiss at one or other of the houses on this side of the

way.’

‘Humph! What do you mean by a force?’

‘About a dozen of them.’

Blodget bit his lips.

‘Yes, and they are close outside too.’

‘No!’

‘Yes they are.’

‘I will satisfy myself. If it be only the ordinary watch I don’t think a

couple of dozen of them ought to stop us from proceeding, and I will not

permit them doing so either; but if they are some of these cursed

Vigilance fellows, it is another affair.’

Blodget acted promptly. Nobody certainly could accuse him of want of

courage or decision. He knew that the only way of discovering who were

without was to take a good look himself; so, to the consternation and

surprise of his comrades, he opened the street door and coolly looked

out into the street.

A sudden rush was made at the door by a couple of men, and Blodget soon

saw ten or twelve others not far off.

‘Hold hard there, hoss,’ said one of them. ‘Don’t shut that door again,

my fine fellow, if you please.’

‘Ah, indeed!’ said Blodget, as he closed the door; but he was not quite

quick enough, for a stick that one of the officers had with him had been

pushed through the opening, and prevented the door from closing.

‘Ha, ha! it won’t do,’ cried the officer.

Blodget laid hold of the stick and called upon the others to do so. By

their united force they pulled it out of the officer’s hand, half

dislocating his wrist as he did so, for he had tied it with a strip of

dry hide to his arm.

The door was closed in another minute, but it was only held by the lock,

for Blodget had cut the bolts and had broken the chain, so that his

situation with his four companions was anything but a very agreeable

one.

‘Oh!’ said Ben, ‘I do begin to think as we have all dropped in for it at

last.’

‘Not at all,’ said Blodget.

‘Not at all, captain? Why how the deuce are we to get out of this mess?’

‘I don’t call it a mess. There are two ways out of a house; one at the

street door, and the other at the roof. Follow me.’

‘What, upstairs again?’

‘Yes, to be sure. Remember you are under my orders, and you may as well

remember why, too.’

‘Why?’

‘Yes, why. Was it not because I knew more than you did, and could so

take the command with more advantage to you as well as to myself? Come

on; I will yet see you all safe out of this affair, you may depend upon

it.’

They accordingly proceeded up stairs, where as Blodget anticipated, they

found a scuttle affording an exit to the roof—through this they escaped,

and scampering over the flat roofs of the adjacent houses, got safely

off with their blood-bought booty.

--------------

CHAPTER XIV

We must now retrace our steps in order to introduce a different phase of

life in the Golden City.

Among the many hundreds of passengers who landed one drizzly day from

one of the Panama steamers, was a young and very handsome female.

Her personal attractions had excited the attention and admiration of

many of the male passengers, who would fain have improved the chance of

becoming more intimate with her, had they not been kept aloof by the

distant manners of a gentleman, under whose protection she appeared to

be, and, perhaps, even more by the young girl’s reserved ways and

apparently sad expression of countenance.

Who this lady was will appear in the course of our tale. Her companion

called her Fanny—but whether she was his wife or not, was unknown to the

rest of the passengers.

About a fortnight after Fanny arrived in San Francisco she rose from her

slumbers, broken by unquiet visions, with pale and gloomy looks, for she

had not yet decided upon the course she would adopt in her present

extremity, and her sombre countenance and spiritless manners attracted

the notice of her landlady.

‘Mr. Edwards has gone to Sacramento, I hear,’ said she, as she placed

the breakfast equipage upon the table.

‘Yes.’ replied Fanny, coldly.

‘He did not say anything to me about the rent,’ observed the woman, in a

doubtful and hesitating tone. ‘He engaged the apartments, you know; but

if you pay the rent when it is due, of course it is all the same.’

‘You have always received your rent from me, Mrs. Smith,’ returned

Fanny, somewhat haughtily, ‘and as long as I occupy your apartments I

shall continue to pay for them. I hope you do not doubt my ability to do

so?’

‘Oh, no,’ said her landlady. ‘Only as Mr. Edwards engaged the

apartments, and has now left without saying anything about the matter, I

did not know how matters might be; but I meant no offence, I am sure.’

Mrs. Smith whisked herself out of the room, and Fanny was again alone to

contemplate the dread realities of her position. Still undecided, still

reluctant to adopt either of the alternatives which she had canvassed

over, but keenly alive to the necessity of a speedy decision, she yet

sought to avert the crisis, if only for a few days; and having made a

bundle of a silk dress and a handsome shawl which Edwards had given her,

she left the house to obtain the means of liquidating the week’s rent,

that would be due on the ensuing day.

‘Mrs. Edwards,’ said a female voice behind her, as she stood before the

window of a pawnbroker’s shop, unable to summon courage to enter; and

turning round she beheld a young girl, stylishly dressed and possessed

of considerable pretensions to beauty, whom she instantly recognized as

a fellow-lodger with whom she had once or twice exchanged civilities

when they had met upon the stairs or in the passage.

‘I have renounced that name forever, Miss Jessop,’ said she ‘and would

forget all the associations belonging to it.’

‘Ah, I heard that Mr. Edwards had gone to Sacramento,’ observed Miss

Jessop.

‘You knew it, then, before I did,’ returned Fanny, with a slight

bitterness of accent.

‘Indeed!’ rejoined Miss Jessop. ‘But do not think of going to the

pawnbroker’s, for I am sure that is where you are going.—’

‘Who told you that I was going to the pawnbroker’s?’ inquired Fanny,

coloring, and speaking in a tone of mingled vexation and surprise.

‘Nay, do not be angry!’ said Miss Jessop, whose manner was kind and

conciliating. ‘I was sure of it, as soon as I saw you, and you cannot

deny it; but do not look vexed because I have penetrated your

intentions. I see that you want a friend, and it was because I felt

convinced that you were going into the shop that I accosted you.’

‘I do indeed want a friend, Miss Jessop,’ returned Fanny, sighing, ‘I

never felt the want of one so much as at this moment.’

‘Then come home, if you have no where else to go to, and we will have a

little chat together,’ said Miss Jessop, in a very friendly tone. ‘I am

older than you in years, and still older in experience, for all that you

now see dimly louring upon the horizon, I have long ago passed through.’

Fanny was in that frame of mind which prompts the seeker after guidance

or consolation to be communicative and to give confidence wherever

friendship is proffered, and she walked home with Miss Jessop, whom she

invited into her own sitting-room.

‘You are very comfortable here,’ said the young lady, as she glanced

round the apartment. ‘I hope you do not think of leaving?’

‘I have thought of many things, but as yet have been able to decide upon

nothing,’ returned Fanny, with a faint smile.

‘And yet you were about to do the most foolish thing imaginable, if I

had not prevented you,’ observed Miss Jessop. ‘For whatever course you

decide upon, it would be foolish to make away with your best clothes,

and the money you raised by so doing would only serve to avert for a few

days the decision that you would have to come to at last. For instance,

if you decide upon returning home to your friends, where would be the

use of delaying your return until you had eat up all your clothes? Again

if you determined upon receiving the visits of any other gentleman,

would it not be foolish to delay accepting of his proposals until you

were penniless? If you will take the advice of one who has been in the

same position, you will do at once, whatever you decide upon doing, for,

however desperate your position may be, procrastination will only make

it worse.’

Fanny felt the force of her new friend’s reasoning, and after reflecting

upon it for a moment, frankly disclosed her position, signifying the

repugnance which she felt to returning home.

‘You see that I understand your position as well as if I had been

acquainted with it,’ said Miss Jessop, with a smile. ‘If you will go out

with me this evening I will introduce you to a banker who is sure to be

delighted with you. He is very liberal, and I know he admires your dark

style of beauty above all others.’

Fanny’s curiosity and vanity were both excited by this flattering

description, and as reflection had confirmed her in her determination

not to return home, little persuasion was needed to induce her to assent

to her new friend’s proposition.

Night found Fanny and Miss Jessop seated in a temple dedicated equally

to Venus and to Bacchus. The former was surprised by the scene which met

her gaze, and the appearance of the females who promenaded the saloon,

or were seated by the side or on the knees of gay gentlemen, enlightened

her both as to the character of the place and that of her companions, if

indeed there had been in her mind any doubt as to the latter, previous

to her introduction to that flowery scene of vice.

‘There!—that is the person of whom I spoke to you,’ said Miss Jessop, in

a whisper, as the banker entered the saloon, and as the roue caught the

eye of Fanny’s companion, and saw by her side a beautiful young female

whom he had never seen before, he advanced towards the table at which

they were seated, and sat down opposite to them.

‘You look blooming to-night, Miss Jessop,’ said he, eyeing Fanny as he

spoke. ‘Champagne, waiter. Who is your handsome young friend?’

Fanny blushed at the compliment, and her companion answered, with a

smile, ‘A young friend of mine whom I have promised to introduce to you,

Mr. Edwards.’

Fanny and the banker were soon upon the most friendly terms. He invited

the ladies to take wine with him. Fanny’s reserve vanished by degrees

under its influence, and the compliments of the banker appealed to her

vanity. She was soon induced to accompany him to a house in the

neighborhood. Fanny had committed herself to the tide of destiny,

suffering it to bear her wither it would, and she entered into the

house, of the character of which her inexperience allowed her to form no

conception. But when they were conducted by an attendant into a

bedchamber, she was recalled all at once to the nature of her position,

and she blushed deeply; her companion, however, found means to remove

her scruples, and she left the house, in company with Miss Jessop,

richer indeed in purse, but bankrupt in honor.

It was near midnight,—some weeks after Fanny’s fatal resolution—the gay

votaries of pleasure were leaving the Jenny Lind Theatre, some few in

equipages, but a greater number on foot; beyond the immediate

neighborhood of the theatre, however, the bustle was little increased,

for the bar-rooms, the Arcade, the El Dorado, the Lafayette, and the

Bella Union, received the human tide almost as fast as its waves ebbed

from the portico of the theatre.

One female form alone lingered under the portico!

She was a lovely dark-eyed girl, rather below the middle height of

woman, and wore a silk dress, faded and stained, a mantle of the same

material, creased and much worn, and a velvet bonnet modish in form, but

worn and faded, and adorned with a black feather in the last stage of

decay. Her complexion was dark, and dissipation and late hours had not

yet banished the last tinge of rose from her cheeks; her bright eyes

were shaded by long jetty lashes, and her black hair was glossy as the

pinion of the raven; her lips seemed formed of coral by the art of the

turner, and her form was symmetrical and attractive in the highest

degree. A little while before those dark eyes had beamed with simulated

passion, and those vermeil lips had been wreathed with the most winning

and wanton smiles; but as the last hack drove away from the front of the

theatre, the expression of the girl’s countenance, which seemed to have

been stamped there as with a searing iron, by the vivid consciousness of

shame and degradation. The change was like the removal of the garland

and veil from the skull of the skeleton guest at the banquet of the old

Egyptians. A light rain was beginning to fall, the pavement was becoming

wet and clammy, and the girl looked down with a sigh and a shudder at

her thin shoes.

Then she stepped upon the pavement, shivered for a moment on the edge

and crossed the slippery street, to where the large lamp over the door

of a large cafe threw its yellow glare upon the wet sidewalk. A tall,

well-shaped man came out of the tavern at the moment she approached the

door, and between him and the young girl there passed glances of

recognition.

‘Blodget!’ she exclaimed, in a low gasping tone.

‘Ah! why it is little Fanny!’ said he, in a tone between a recognition

and surprise.

‘Yes,’ returned the young girl, with a look at once appealing and

reproachful, ‘It is Fanny—your victim.’

‘Humph,’ said Blodget, averting his countenance from the girl’s earnest

gaze, and biting his lip. ‘Have you been looking for me?’ he inquired,

after a moment’s pause, and still without looking upon the girl’s wan

countenance, as if he felt that her looks would reproach him, even

though she uttered not a word.

‘No,’ returned Fanny. ‘I knew not that you were in this city. I am glad,

Mr. Blodget, to perceive that you have still so much virtue left, that

you cannot look upon the face of the girl you have wronged and deceived,

that you shrink from the contemplation of your work of evil.’

‘Don’t let us quarrel,’ said Blodget, in a low voice, and with an

evident uneasiness of manner. ‘Come in, and we will go up stairs, and

have a bottle of wine.’

‘Never, with you, Blodget!’ exclaimed Fanny, energetically.

‘Your baseness has reduced me to a depth of degradation to which I would

not at one time have believed possible for me to fall, but never will I

sit down in a public room with the author of my ruin.’

‘Well, where do you live?’ said Blodget in a tone of vexation. ‘I cannot

stand talking to you in the street—besides, it rains.’

‘Ah, you are ashamed of me?’ returned Fanny in a tone of bitterness,

though her voice trembled and her lips quivered as she spoke. ‘Why were

you not rather ashamed to become the destroyer of my happiness, my

innocence, perhaps, my soul?’

‘Pooh, nonsense, Fan,’ returned Blodget, the glow of conscious guilt

mantling upon his cheeks, in spite of his assumed nonchalance. ‘You are

in a melancholy mood to-night, and if you mean to stand here talking

like that, I shall rush off. It is getting late, and you had better go

home.’

‘Home!’ ejaculated Fanny, with a bitter intonation, and hot tears

gathered in her dark eyes, and trembled on her black and silken lashes.

‘Bill!’ said Blodget, to a pale, shabby dissipated-looking young man,

who came out of the bar-room at that moment—‘bring a hack!’

In a few minutes the vehicle rolled up to the spot, and the driver

jumped from his seat to open the door. Fanny allowed her seducer to hand

her into the hack but her thoughts were wandering, and she felt a slight

degree of surprise when Blodget got in, and seated himself by her side.

‘Where to, sir,’ said the driver, as he closed the door.

Blodget looked at Fanny, who mentioned the name of the street in which

she lived, and in a few minutes the hack was dashing over the miry road.

Fanny leaned back in silence, and when her companion passed his arm

around her waist, she shrank from his touch, and he instantly removed

it.

‘What is the use of your being angry with me, Fanny?’ said he, in a

deprecating tone. ‘What has passed can never be recalled, and had better

be forgotten. Let us—’

‘Forgotten?’ exclaimed Fanny, raising her dark eyes sadly and

reproachfully to his countenance, as he saw by the light of a lamp which

the coach passed at the moment. ‘Do you think that I can ever forget

what I have been or what I am now? That I can forget there was a time

when I was innocent and happy, and cease to contrast that time with the

wretched present?’

‘Why are you not happy now?’ inquired the roué.

‘Can you ask me why I am not happy now, Blodget?’ returned Fanny, in a

tone of deep and touching emphasis. ‘Ah, do not affect what you do not

feel. Do not make me think you so thoroughly heartless as such a

question would imply. You know that I am not and cannot be happy.’

Blodget was silent, and in a few moments the hack stopped opposite the

house that had for some weeks been the abode of the lost and degraded

Fanny. Blodget sprang out, assisted Fanny to alight, and having

discharged the hack, followed the young girl up the court and into the

house in which she lodged. She ascended the stairs, permitting Blodget

to follow her, and when they had entered a small bed-room of the most

wretched appearance. She closed the door, set the light which she had

received on entering the house, upon a pine table, and sinking upon a

chair by the side of the bed, buried her countenance in the clothes.

‘How long have you been in such a place as this?’ inquired Blodget, as

he threw a quick glance round the wretched chamber.

‘I permitted you to come here, that you might form a faint idea of the

depth to which you have plunged me,’ said Fanny, raising her head from

the bed.

‘Reproaches are useless,’ returned the man, gloomily: ‘I am sorry for

what has passed, Fanny, and now let us be friends again.’

‘On what terms?’ inquired Fanny.

‘Oh, never mind the terms.’ returned Blodget, sitting on the side of the

bed, and taking the young girl’s hand. ‘Kiss me, Fan, and we will have a

bottle of wine up here—no, not here,’ he added, again casting his eyes

around the miserable chamber. ‘Come away with me to a house of

accommodation.’

‘And to-morrow?’ said Fanny, doubtfully and inquiringly.

‘To-morrow we shall be as good friends as ever we were.’

‘Blodget,’ said Fanny, in a deep and even solemn tone, while she raised

her dark eyes to his countenance, with an expression of profound

earnestness, ‘I would rather die than continue to lead the life which I

have lived since you so unkindly deserted me. Indeed, I know not why I

have not long since sought death in preference to such a life of shame,

and misery and conscious degradation. Tell me whether you mean to atone

for all that you have made me suffer by making me your wife?’

‘You cannot expect it,’ returned Blodget, dropping her hands, and taking

a hasty turn across the room. ‘You have seen enough of life by this

time, I should think, to see the foolishness of such an expectation.’

‘My experience of life has been bitter enough, God knows,’ said Fanny,

heaving a deep sigh, while tears again gathered in her dark eyes. ‘Why

did you ever seek my love? Was it honorable to do so, and to win my

heart, and then, when I had given you the tenderest proof of love that

woman can bestow, to cast me from you as you might a flower that you had

plucked for its beauty and fragrance, and when it had ceased to charm,

you cast upon the footway to be trodden upon and to mingle with the

mire? That is what you have done—that has been my fate.’

‘Well, it cannot be helped now, Fan,’ observed Blodget, some twitchings

of remorse giving a slight degree of impatience to his tone. ‘Will you

come away from here and have a bottle of wine with me? Nay, if you like

it better, for once I will stop here.’

‘Never again, Blodget, will I press the same bed with you, unless as

your wife,’ exclaimed Fanny, with solemn earnestness. ‘I would rather

lay down in some secluded spot, and die of hunger; or seek a refuge from

the shame and misery that are killing me, in the waters of the bay.’

‘Good night, then,’ returned the seducer. ‘I am off! I will do the

generous, though.’

The libertine’s tone and manner were hurried and uneasy. He took a slug

from his purse and laid it on the table, but Fanny rose immediately, her

dark eyes flashing and her cheeks glowing, and taking up the coin, threw

it at his feet.

‘Not from you, sir!’ she exclaimed vehemently. ‘I will neither sell

myself to you, nor have it thought that I have done so. You sought me,

and you gained me, and I do not blush for what has passed; but my fond

and trusting heart betrayed me, and not such a paltry bribe as that.

Would you have me despise myself more than I do already?’

‘Fanny,’ said Blodget, in a tone which evinced considerable agitation,

for the words, look, and tone of the poor girl had at length penetrated

to his heart. ‘Let us be friends, as we were before I left New-York.

Forgive me for what you have suffered, and kiss me.’

‘No! no!’ returned Fanny, extending her hand to ward him as he

approached her. ‘I forgive you, and now leave me; but remember that

there is One besides whose forgiveness you have to seek, and whose

pardon is of more consequence than mine.’

‘You will not kiss me, then—not even as a sign of your forgiveness?’

said the libertine, who thought that if the young girl suffered him to

hold her in his embrace he should be able to win her to a more agreeable

termination to their interview than appeared likely otherwise.

‘No,’ replied Fanny, firmly. ‘You have ceased to love me, and I should

loathe myself were I to suffer any approach to a renewal of our former

intimacy.’ Blodget lingered a moment longer, glanced toward the slug

which still lay on the floor, where the indignant girl had thrown it,

and then quitted the room.

When the door had closed upon her seducer, Fanny threw herself upon the

bed, and hiding her countenance in the clothes, burst into a flood of

bitter and scalding tears. Oh, how agonizing were the reminiscence, how

bitter the reflections, evoked by the accidental meeting with the man to

whom she owed all the unhappiness she ever knew. The thought of her

home, of the poor, but honest parents whom she could never look in the

face again, of the companions of her childhood, in the village of her

birth, and from these subjects of reflection her thoughts wandered to

the beginnings of her ill-starred acquaintance with Blodget, and the

sudden dissolving of the dream of happiness she had had, so bright and

blissful, but, alas, so transient.

Her tears ceased to flow, without having brought her any relief, and

seating herself by the bedside, she grew by degrees more calm, but it

was an unnatural calmness, not the tranquility which speaks of peace

within, but a mere lull in the tempest of human passions. She glanced at

the glittering coin upon the floor, but she felt that to pick it up and

appropriate it to her own use, would be to accept a money compensation

for her wrongs, and though husbands in the upper classes of society are

accustomed to accept such compensation from the seducers of their wives,

yet the purer soul of that crushed violet of the pavement, revolted at

the thought.

Yet must she have money; she was penniless, and for her there was no

alternative between a life of infamy and degradation, and the unblessed

grave of the suicide. Moreover she could not bear to be alone with her

heart-crushing brain-searing, maddening thoughts: she felt that she must

fly from them, or, madness or suicide would be the result. The thought

of surrendering herself to the embraces of a stranger was less repugnant

to her mind, in the mood which had come upon her, than that of selling

to her seducer for money the favors which he had once enjoyed through

her love; if she must sin, she resolved that it should not be with him,

to those arms she had originally gone pure and chaste.

Leaving the money upon the floor, she went down stairs, darted past a

stout red-faced old woman in a faded silk dress, whom she met in the

passage, in order to avoid an explanation, and rushed through the miry

court into the street. A misty rain was still falling, and there were

few persons in the streets, but she knew there were yet plenty of

loungers and revellers in the taverns about Commercial Street, and

thitherward, she retraced her steps. She had nearly reached the crossing

of Montgomery Street, when she saw a young man come out of the corner

bar-room and walk down towards the wharf, with a reeling gait, as if

under the influence of liquor. Thinking that he might be easily induced

to accompany her home, she followed him, but before she could overtake

him he entered another bar-room.

Fanny lingered for a moment on the clammy pavement, but the deserted

appearance of the streets speedily decided her, and she turned into the

house and entered.

The young man was sitting at one of the tables over which he was

leaning, with his head leaning on his arms, and his countenance

concealed: but no one else was in the room. A glass stood on the table.

The man did not move when she entered, though she knew he could not be

asleep, having only entered the house a moment before.

‘What a disagreeable night,’ Fanny ventured to observe, in the hope of

attracting the young man’s attention.

At the sound of her voice he started from his seat as if he had received

a shock from a galvanic battery, and gazed with mingled wildness and

earnestness at her. Fanny started also, and staggering backwards, sank

upon a bench, and covered her face with her hands, for she had

recognized Robert Jervis, her affianced lover, in the days of her

virtuous happiness. Jervis was pale, and the unexpected meeting with one

whom he had once loved so ardently had given to his countenance an

expression of wildness and extreme agitation.

‘Has Fanny sunk so low as this? and so soon, too,’ said he, in a low

voice, rendered hoarse by the agitation of his feelings. ‘Has she who

ran away from her home become in so short a time a midnight frequenter

of overcharged, and the common associate of the vicious portion of a

class, the reputable members of which she once looked down upon with

disdain?’

‘Spare me, Robert,’ said Fanny, in a faint and broken voice, and without

removing her hands from her countenance, ‘You know not what I have

suffered—what I am suffering now.’

‘I can easily believe that,’ returned Robert, surveying her with a look

of mournful interest. ‘You have made me suffer, too—more deeply than I

can find words to express; but I will not reproach you. While you have a

heart to feel, if vice does not harden it to the core, you will find

reproaches there which I cannot spare you.’

‘I do,’ exclaimed Fanny, sobs choking her voice, and the pearly tears

trickling down her hands. ‘You cannot reproach me more severely than my

own heart does at this moment. If you knew all that I have endured and

am enduring you would pity me.’

‘Pity you!’ said Robert, who had become perfectly sober the moment he

recognized the lost girl upon whom he was now gazing. ‘I have never

ceased to pity you since the moment of my return to reason after that

hour of madness that ruined both myself and you.’

‘It was all my fault,’ sobbed Fanny, weeping as if her heart would

break.

‘It matters little now, whether the fault was wholly yours or partly

mine,’ said Robert, taking a hasty turn up and down the room. ‘It was

more the fault of that villain Blodget: may heaven’s avenging lightnings

scathe and blast him! May his own happiness and peace of mind be wrecked

as ours have been!’

Fanny sobbed bitterly, and dared not raise her eyes to Robert’s agitated

countenance. The young man took two or three turns up and down the

bar-room, and then he became a little calmer, and pausing near the table

at which he had been sitting, threw a furtive glance towards the weeping

Fanny.

‘And you have really fallen so low as your presence here seems to

imply?’ said he, endeavoring to steady his voice, though it was low and

tremulous, and his lips quivered as he spoke.

‘Imagine the worse, and you will know all,’ replied Fanny, in a broken

and faltering voice. ‘I have wished a hundred times that I were at the

bottom of the bay, but I cannot do it. I pray for death, that I may be

spared further misery and sin, and yet I live.’

‘Heaven have mercy on us all, for we have need of mercy!’ exclaimed

Robert, in a tone which betrayed the emotion that he felt, and leaning

with his elbows on the table, he buried his face in his hands.

He heard Fanny sobbing, but for some moments neither of them moved or

spoke. Then he heard a slight rustling, and he removed his hands from

his pale and agitated countenance, and slowly raised his head. Fanny was

hurriedly leaving the room; it was her mantle brushing the door as she

passed out, which he had heard. He sighed heavily, and then he dropped

his head upon his hands again, and sat silent and motionless, until

roused by the entrance of the bar-keeper who, thinking that he was

asleep, shook him, and bawled that he was going to close the house. Then

he arose, quitted the house, and walked slowly, and with an expression

of misery and despair upon his pale countenance. The rain had now

degenerated into a thick fog, through which the lamps twinkled dimly,

and the pavement was covered with thin mire of the color and adhesive

quality which distinguishes the mud of San Francisco, except where the

broken condition of the pavement of the footway permitted the turbid

water to lay in large puddles, dimly reflecting the street lamps.

Regardless of the puddles, Robert walked on, now with his eyes fixed

upon the miry pavement, and now looking forward with contracted brow and

moving though silent lips; and when he reached a lane, he went straight

on and entered a house. Thither we will not immediately follow him.

On leaving the bar-room, where she had encountered Robert Jervis, Fanny

had hurried down to the wharf, where she began to walk more slowly, the

terrible excitement which had until then impelled her onward, beginning

to subside. But though she walked more slowly, she kept towards the bay,

and still walked slowly onwards. About the hour of one, she advanced

towards steps leading down to some water. It was not the first time

since she had added herself to the thousands of unfortunate women who

seek the wages of sin, that she sought the bay with suicidal purposes,

but there was something so terrible and so awful to her mind in the

thought of death, that she had never dared to attempt the execution of

it.

‘It must be done,’ she murmured, as she approached the steps. ‘I can

endure this dreadful life no longer.’

She descended the steps hurriedly, but on the lowest that was uncovered

by the water, she paused, and gazed upon the dark bosom of the flood

that rolled with a hoarse dull murmur.

‘Death! What is it?’ murmured the miserable girl, clasping her small

white hands, and looking down upon the water that rolled darkly at her

feet. ‘Awful mystery, which I wish, yet fear, to solve! Is it but the

intermediate state which mortals pass through to free the soul from the

grossness which clogs it during its sojourn on earth, and fit it for a

higher and happier state of existence? or is it a long sleep—a night

without dreams, and to which no morrow comes? Is it, as some say, the

chrysalis state from which we emerge into new life, like the butterfly?

Unfortunate analogy!—the repugnance to the soul’s annihilation, this

longing after immortality? Oh there must be something beyond the grave,

though what I cannot say. It cannot be worse, whatever it may be than

the life I am leading.’

She paused in her muttered soliloquy, thinking she heard soft and

cautious footsteps behind her, but on casting a look up the steps, she

saw no one; indeed the fog prevented her from seeing more than a couple

of yards.

‘It is nothing,’ she muttered. ‘Now to end a life of which I have long

been weary! It is but a plunge—a splashing of the water—a circling

ripple on the surface—and all will be over!’

As she murmured these words, the poor girl threw herself into the dark

waters, adding to the long list of man’s perfidy and inhumanity—‘One

more unfortunate victim.’

--------------

CHAPTER XV

We must now return for a space to Inez and her captors. The unfortunate

girl had but a very confused idea of where she was being conveyed. When

the party reached the ranch she was taken from her horse, and carried

rather than led, into the building.

She was taken down a narrow flight of steps into what appeared to her to

be a subterranean apartment. And such, in fact it was, for the dwelling

to which she had been taken had formerly been a portion of one of the

old mission establishments, which are so numerous in California. The

vaults beneath it, had doubtless been excavated as a place of retreat in

case of attacks from hostile Indians, or as a depository for the sacred

vessels of the church.

At length they reached the bottom of this subterranean flight of stairs,

and then she was borne along a narrow passage of considerable length,

the footsteps of her ruffianly abductor raising dismal and prolonged

echoes. Her brain began to reel before the appalling idea that she was

being carried into the bowels of the earth, perhaps to be immured for

life in some dungeon, where the atmosphere would be close and damp—where

moisture would trickle down the green and slimy walls—perhaps, to be

deprived of life; or, maybe, and the thought made her shudder

convulsively, subjected to the brutal lusts of some vile miscreant whose

crimes had made him shrink into gloomy vaults from the light of day and

the arm of retributive justice.

Her bearer seemed to be fatigued with her weight for he twice set her

down and rested a few moments. At length the end of the journey appeared

to be reached, and she was now laid down upon some blankets, and the gag

removed from her mouth, and the covering from her head, and when she

cast a glance of terrified apprehension around the place to which she

had been brought she was alone and in profound and impenetrable

darkness.

Almost frantically the unfortunate maiden gave vent to her

long-suppressed emotions in a piercing shriek, and then sank into

insensibility.

How long Inez lay in that state of insensibility which came upon her

when she found herself alone and in utter darkness, in the place to

which she had been borne, she had no means of ascertaining; but at

length consciousness returned to the bewildered maiden by slow degrees.

Back from the memory cells of her brain came the recollection of her

retiring to bed the evening previous beneath her father’s roof, then the

midnight abduction, the long and fearful ride, and her falling

insensible in the dark and gloomy chamber in which she now was.

‘Where was she? Why was she brought there?’

She rose from the floor, and groping with her hands to avoid coming in

contact with any projecting article of furniture, she made a few

cautious steps in the direction of the door, by which she had been borne

into the room by her abductor, but her hands encountered no tangible

indication of an entrance.

The secret door, the darkness that seemed palpable, all must be parts of

some infernal contrivance to shroud in secrecy and mystery some

diabolical outrage, from the contemplation of the probable nature of

which she shrank in horror. Through that concealed door which she could

not discover, but which she yet knew to exist, the perpetrator would

enter—those walls would shut in every sound, and deaden every

shriek—that palpable darkness would veil the crime, and guard from the

chance of future recognition the criminal! It was dreadful for one so

innocent, so defenceless to stand there alone, enveloped in darkness,

anticipating all that was horrible and revolting to her pure mind, and

fearfully conscious of her utter powerlessness to evade her impending

doom.

She clasped her hands, and though in darkness, her eyes wandered round

the room, and could any one have seen her countenance at that moment, it

would have been seen pale and impressed with an aspect of mingled

wildness and despair. A new thought suddenly struck her, and partly

stilled the tumult of her mind; she would pray—it was impossible, she

thought, that God would forsake her, if she prayed to Him, for succor

and deliverance. In obedience to this impulse, she knelt down upon the

thick carpet, and prayed long and fervently that He whose name was Love,

and whose attributes were Power, Wisdom, Justice and Mercy, would

deliver her from the doom which was impending over her, whether that

doom was a violent death, or dishonoring outrage, which she dreaded

most. This act of devotion exercised a tranquillizing influence over her

mind, and she rose from her knees considerably comforted and

strengthened.

While Inez was still pondering upon her condition she heard a door open

and close. The person who entered ignited a match and lit a lamp, and

confronted the trembling girl. Judge of her horror when she recognized

one of the villains whom she had seen engaged in burying the murdered

man in the old adobe building. Although her knees trembled with fright

she mustered courage enough to ask him, ‘What means this outrage, sir.’

‘It means this,’ said Blodget, for it was that miscreant himself who

stood before her. ‘It means this,—that you take the oath which I shall

administer, swearing in the most solemn terms never to reveal aught that

has happened since you left the mission last evening. The second is,

that you become my mistress.’

‘Then I reject your conditions with scorn and abhorrence!’ exclaimed

Inez turning away.

‘Reflect well, my charmer,’ said the villain.

‘Cease, sir!’ exclaimed Inez. ‘Say no more! I reject your offers with

disdain.’

‘I thought to find you more reasonable,’ said Blodget after a pause.

‘However, if you hold out a week, you will be the first who ever did.

There are some slices of fowl and ham, and some bread, and a pint of

wine, in the basket; and in the evening I shall visit you again.’

As he turned to leave the room, Inez bent her gaze steadily upon the

door, in the hope of detecting the means by which it was opened, but it

had only the appearance of a portion of the wall, revolving upon hinges,

and undiscoverable on the inside when closed, from the uniform

appearance which the entire wall then presented alike to the eye and the

touch. The door again rolled noiselessly on its hinges, it closed with a

click, and Inez was alone in the pitchy darkness of her prison.

Satisfied that there must be some means of acting upon the concealed

mechanism connected with the door, she ran her hands over the inside,

and pressed every square inch with her fingers, in the hope of touching

something which would set in action the secret spring. This manipulation

producing no result, she next treaded the floor near the door in the

same manner, but still without making any discovery. It then occurred to

her that the spring might be situated above her reach, and instantly

mounting upon the wicker basket which Blodget had brought her, she felt

over the upper part of the door, and the wall around and above it as far

as she could reach.

An indescribable emotion of joy and hope thrilled through her bosom, as

her fingers all at once encountered a small knob or button, about six

feet from the floor, which yielded to the pressure, and acting on some

concealed mechanism, caused the heavy door to revolve slowly and

noiselessly upon its hinges. Stepping from the basket, she peered into

the semi-obscurity of the lobby upon which the door opened, and

discovering an ascending flight of stairs, she felt half inclined to

venture up them; but on reflection, she thought such a step would be

imprudent, and satisfied with possessing the means of opening the door

at pleasure, she closed it to reflect, at leisure, upon the way in which

she should make her discovery available for the purpose of escape.

The impression that the door which she had discovered was not the one by

which she had been borne into the chamber by her abductor still

lingering in her mind, she resolved to examine the opposite wall in the

same manner; and, setting the basket against the wall, she stood upon it

as before, and passed her hand over the wall in every direction. To her

great joy she was not long in discovering a knob similar to that which

communicated with the secret spring of the other door, and pressing upon

it, a door opened like the one by which Blodget had entered, and the

rush of cold air which fanned her cheek, and the continued darkness,

called to her mind the recollection of the subterraneans through which

she had been borne the preceding night.

She hesitated for a moment, and then she advanced her right foot

cautiously, and found that she stood at the head of a flight of steps

leading downward. She descended two or three, and then she returned to

her chamber and closed the door, resolving to wait until night before

venturing into the subterraneans, so fearful was she of having her

evasion detected before her escape was complete, and of steps being

taken to preclude the possibility of a second attempt. The cravings of

her stomach now began to demand attention, and feeling that some degree

of vigor would be required to enable her to complete her escape, she sat

down, and taking the provisions from the basket, ate a portion of the

bread and meat. She hesitated as she afterwards raised the wine to her

lips, lest it should be drugged, but reflecting that such a step was

little likely to be resorted to after the open violence to which she had

been subjected on the preceding night, she took a small quantity, and

then began to reflect upon the course which she should pursue.

By deferring her attempt to escape until night, as she had determined,

she would be exposed, she now reflected, to a repetition of the outrage

of the preceding night; and would likewise be less capable of

ascertaining correctly the house in which she was a prisoner than she

would be should she escape by daylight. She therefore opened the door by

pressing upon the knob which communicated with the secret spring, and

cautiously ascended the dark flight of stone stairs. She reached the top

in safety, groped her way along a passage of considerable length, and at

the end was involved in as pitchy a darkness as before.

At length she knocked her head against a flat stone which appeared to

seal up the subterranean staircase, and almost reeled under the

concussion; but recovering from the blow in a few moments, she

endeavored to raise the stone by pressing upward with her hands and

shoulders. The stone was heavy, but at length she succeeded in raising

it on end, and when thus poised it was easily removed from the aperture,

and she emerged into a large gloomy vault or cellar, which was little

less dark than the stairs and passage which she had traversed, or the

chamber from which she had escaped. The only light came from a rude

doorway in one corner, where she could see the bottom of a flight of

rough steps, towards which she hurried; but at the moment she put her

foot upon the lowermost step she heard rough voices.

No sound from the underground chambers in which Inez was imprisoned

could by any possibility reach the outside of the building, even had

there been neighbors in the vicinity, but the place was far remote from

any other human habitation. She had no means of marking the flight of

time, and could not even distinguish between day and night. But her

persecutor had told her that he should visit her again in the evening,

and she resolved to be in readiness to fly the moment the first warning

sound of his intrusion struck upon her listening ears. At length when

she heard the click of the secret spring, she ascended with

precipitation the stone stairs which led, as she thought, to liberty.

She had scarcely reached the top, when she heard hurried footsteps

behind her, and, without casting a look backwards, she fled in terror

along the subterranean passage. Her rapid footsteps were echoed by those

of her pursuer. She had nearly reached the top of the stone stairs

leading to the place in which she had found a lamp, and the means of

lighting it, when she stumbled over a stone, or some other impediment,

and fell prostrate upon the ground, a scream bursting from her lips, and

the lamp falling from her hand.

By this untoward mischance, the lamp became extinguished, and before she

could recover her feet, she heard the footsteps of her pursuer close at

hand; and in another moment she felt herself clasped round the waist,

and all her faculties succumbing to the force of terror, she became

insensible.

It was Blodget who had pursued her, and he was greatly alarmed lest she

should escape.

As he was bearing her insensible body into the chamber, a new cause of

alarm presented itself. One of his accomplices in guilt rushed in to

tell him that a party of horsemen, apparently Californians, had

dismounted in a neighboring grove, and that two of their number were

reconnoitering the ranch.

Blodget paused for a moment to think, and then speedily determined how

to act.

The party of which the man spoke was composed of Monteagle, Joaquin, and

a few Californians, who, after infinite pains, had discovered a clue to

the course pursued by the capturers of Inez, and had traced them to the

ranch in which she was a prisoner.—Joaquin and Blodget had approached

the house in order to determine the best course to pursue in order to

capture the villains and release Inez.

‘Listen,’ said Blodget to his accomplice. ‘If they find me here, I may

be recognized and arrested, if not for this, for other trifling affairs,

which may end in neck-stretching. They can have no proof of our carrying

off the girl, unless the wench is found. That is not possible, as no one

can have any suspicion of the underground room.—They will search the

house, and finding their search in vain, must leave the place. I will

try to get off unobserved through the ravine at the back of the ranch,

and catch the first horse I can find and make for the city. Let me hear

from you as soon as they go, and we will concert future measures about

the girl. I will be at our old place in Jackson street.’

As the villain concluded speaking, he drew and cocked his revolver, and

noiselessly moved from the back of the house towards the ravine of which

he had spoken.

Hardly had the ruffian entered the ravine ere he was descried by

Monteagle, whose party had been placed so as almost to surround the

ranch.

‘Stop! or I fire,’ cried Monteagle.

Blodget burst through the thicket, and Monteagle leaped his horse after

him, but the fugitive turned sharply round the moment the horse’s hoofs

touched the turf, and discharged his revolver. The darkness and hurry in

which he fired prevented him from taking aim, and Monteagle remained

unscathed, but the bullet crashed through the head of the horse, and the

animal reared up, and then fell upon its side and expired.

Blodget fled precipitately, and as soon as Monteagle could extricate

himself from his dead horse, he rushed after him, calling loudly on his

friends. Two of them followed him, but Blodget kept the advantage which

he had gained by shooting the horse, and sped across the meadows with

the swiftness of a hunted coyote. Beyond the ravine there was a high

steep hill, thinly wooded, and on the farther side of the hill a thick

and extensive wood. If he could gain this wood, he doubted not that he

should be enabled to baffle his pursuers, and he made for the hill with

the speed of a grayhound.

He threw a hurried look behind him as he reached the foot of the hill,

and then dashed up the ascent, for he heard behind him the shouts of his

pursuers and the voice of Monteagle urging the two men to come on

faster. The hill was steep, and, except where a scanty vegetable soil

had been formed during successive winters by the decay of moss and

leaves, its rugged side was covered with smooth pebbles, in which the

fugitive’s feet sunk and slipped as he toiled upward. Until Monteagle

reached the hill, therefore, Blodget lost ground, but when his pursuers

commenced the fatiguing ascent they were again upon an equality.

The pursuers and pursued were unable to see each other, and could only

discover their relative positions by pausing to listen, and then only by

such sounds as the slipping of pebbles under the feet, the rolling down

of some displaced stone, the rustling of brambles and brakes, or the

snapping of boughs. The hill became steeper as the robber and his

pursuers approached the summit, and they had to grasp the boughs of

dwarf oaks to assist them in the ascent, and sometimes to drag

themselves over the smooth faces of bare brown rocks, polished by

atmospheric influences, clinging to roots of trees which appeared above

the soil, and inserting their toes into crevices, or setting them upon

projecting points.

Near the summit Blodget paused to rest, to listen, and to look behind

him; below him he heard the voices of his panting pursuers, the rustling

of bushes and brakes, and the grating sound of their footsteps in the

loose pebbles. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and then he resumed his

clambering progress, still hoping to find a refuge in the wood on the

other side. The summit of the hill was sharp and bare, the brown rock

coming to the surface uncovered by the scantiest layer of soil, and its

bald crest passed, he had little fear of his ultimate escape. A glen, or

ravine, the sides of which were clothed with breaks or ferns, led from

the summit down to the wood, and the shortest way of gaining access to

the glen from the side which he was ascending, was through a gap or

cleft in the rocky crest of the hill. In the bottom of this gap laid a

large fragment of rock, nearly flat on the upper side, and rounded at

the edges by the abrading influence of rain and fog; probably it had

originally been disruptured from the crags which arose on either side,

and remained in that position for ages. It partly overhung the steep

acclivity which Blodget was now clambering up, and by pausing a few

moments to recruit his strength, and then clinging with his fingers to

the fissures in the rock, he drew himself up until he reached its top in

safety.

He felt the stone move as he crawled over its smooth flat top on his

hands and knees, and as he paused for a moment in obedience to the

instinct of self-preservation, he heard some stones in which the large

rock was imbedded, roll down the hill, chinking against the pebbles, and

bounding onwards, until arrested in their course by the boughs or roots

of dwarf oaks and wild lilacs which grew upon its side. It was clear

that the impulsion which his weight had given to the stone, had

displaced these small fragments, chipped from itself or the crags which

it laid between when it first fell there, and he hesitated in the fear

that in quitting the stone he should cause it to topple over, and be

crushed by its falling upon him.

In this dilemma he determined to leap from the middle of it, in order to

avoid overbalancing it, and, standing upright for a moment, he measured

the leap with his eye as well as the darkness of the night would permit,

and bounded forward like a mountain goat. He cleared the edge of the

stone, and alighted in safety below it, on the other side of the hill;

but again some fragments of rock rolled down, and he sprang aside, lest

the whole ponderous mass should slip from its position and hurl him

before it down the hill. But the massive rock moved not, and he sped

down the hill with the speed of a deer.

Monteagle had made slower progress than the robber up the steepest part

of the hill, and his companions did not engage in the chase with equal

vigor. Hence they allowed Monteagle to keep the lead; and, on coming

near the summit of the hill, they diverged from the track which he was

following in order to reach the glen on the other side without passing

over the large stone which has been described. Monteagle had caught a

glimpse of Blodget as the dark figure of the latter was for a moment

dimly defined against the lighter darkness of the sky, when he stood

upon the stone to leap into the glen, and shouting, ‘There he is!’ he

strained up the steep acclivity direct for the gap in the hill’s bare

and rocky crest.

He was not aware until he reached it of the obstacle presented by the

massive stone; but, as Blodget had passed over it, he thought he could

do the same; and, clinging to it with both hands, drew himself up, and

succeeded in reaching the flat top; but scarcely had he done so when

there was a rustling fall of stones from beneath, the massive fragment

of rock slid from its place, and a shriek of terror burst from the lips

of Monteagle as he found himself falling backwards, and the stone with

him.

His two friends heard the cry, and for a moment stood silent and

motionless on the steep hill-side, with their hands still holding the

boughs and roots which they had grasped to aid their ascent. They heard

the great stone rush with a dull hoarse sound a few yards, and then

bound down the hill, crashing through the dwarf oaks and clumps of

lilac, snapping the tender trunks of the mountain trees, and grating

over the loose pebbles which filled the channels made by the rapid

descent of water during heavy rains; but that cry of horror and affright

was not repeated, and in a few moments all was still upon the dark and

lonely hill.

‘It is the great stone!’ said one with bated breath.

‘Poor fellow,’ ejaculated the other, with a shudder. ‘If it has fallen

on him, he is crushed!’

‘Let us look for him,’ said the first. ‘Hush! I thought I heard a

groan.’

They listened, but heard nothing, save the sighing of the night wind

among the trees, and they went towards the spot from which Monteagle had

fallen, and followed the track of the displaced stone, which was marked

by broken boughs and torn herbage, down the hill. About fifty yards down

they found our hero lying against a bush, which had arrested his further

progress. The night was too dark for them to perceive the full extent of

the injuries which he had received, but the inertness of the body when

lifted from the ground, gave but faint hope that vitality remained. A

rude litter was made of boughs, and the crushed body being placed upon

it, was borne down the hill and across the meadows to a little ranch not

far from the place.

--------------

CHAPTER XVI

A rude chorus that was being sung, or rather shouted by several coarse

and desperate-looking men, who were seated around a table in a back room

of a very low cabaret, and which was never visited only by the most

depraved persons who resided in, or resorted to the neighborhood. They

were thieves, and if anything could be judged from their countenances,

they were capable of doing the most desperate deeds. The table was

covered with glasses containing gin, rum, and brandy, and of which they

had all been evidently partaking very freely, and they were smoking as

hard as they were able.

There was a large wood fire upon the hearth; and the red glare it cast

upon their features, gave them almost a supernatural appearance, and

altogether the scene was as effective as one of those that are often

represented in a melodrama. Obscene jokes and songs had been freely

indulged in, and it did not seem as if they were inclined to leave off

for some time. It was night, and the wind blew boisterous without, but

the ruffians were making such a riot, that they heeded it not; and they

were evidently determined to enjoy themselves to the most unlimited

extent.

‘Drink away, my lads,’ said one Mike, raising the glass to his lips as

he spoke;—‘drink away; we ought to be merry, for Fortune never smiled

more brightly upon us than she has done for some time past.’

‘Ay, you say right, Mike,’ observed a tall, dark whiskered man, whom the

thieves called Joe; ‘but leave us alone for doing business, and for

availing themselves of fortune’s favors when they are to be obtained.

Cap’n a toast!’

‘Ay, a toast; a toast;’ responded the others.

Mike raised a large glass, filled to the brim in his hand, and said;—

‘Well, my lads, I will give you a toast, and that shall be, Success to

our dare-devil gang!’

‘Bravo! bravo!’ shouted the thieves. ‘Here’s to the dare-devil gang!’

‘A capital toast,’ said Mike; ‘and well responded to. With your leave, I

will propose another.’

‘Ay, ay, a toast from Mike,’ shouted two or three of the thieves,

amongst whom he was a particular favorite; ‘a toast from Mike.’

‘Fill your glasses then, my boys,’ said Mike; ‘bumpers! bumpers!’

The thieves needed no second invitation to do as Mike desired, and the

glasses were very quickly replenished.

‘Here’s confusion to the Vigilance Committee!’ was Mike’s toast; and it

was followed by loud shouts from every one in the room; the landlord of

the house at that moment entering, and joining loudly in acclamation of

it.

‘Ah!’ observed Joe,—‘they have found us rather troublesome customers to

deal with, and will again if they should venture to attack us.’

‘I don’t think that there is much fear of that,’ returned Mike; ‘for we

keep too well out of their clutches, and have met with such a career of

success, that we may set them at defiance!’

‘Ay, ay,’ answered Mike; ‘and may we be always able to do so; and all

those daring fellows, who will run the risk to live a free life.’

‘But Jenkins,’ asked Mike, ‘do you not think that it was a very foolish

thing for us to loose so much time in affecting the accomplishment of

this plot of Blodget’s?’

‘Certainly not,’ returned Jenkins; ‘Blodget has well rewarded us, and it

will ultimately pay us much better than a trip to the mines would have

done.’

‘How?’ demanded Mike.

‘Why, Blodget must continue to do the thing that’s liberal, or else his

game will be up,’ replied Jenkins. ‘The lady is in our power, and we

must continue to keep her so; if Blodget does not come to our terms,

why, Old de Castro, no doubt, will, and, therefore, we are sure of a

reward one way or the other.’

‘Yes, the gallows!’ observed one of the thieves, who had been sitting

apart from the rest, and smoking his cigar heartily, did not seem to

feel any particular interest in what was passing.

‘There’s Ben at his croaking again,’ said Mike; ‘he seems to take a

delight in—’

‘Speaking the truth,’ added Ben, in a quiet tone; ‘it is very unpleasant

to hear it sometimes.’

‘Pshaw! don’t make yourself a fool, Ben,’ exclaimed Jenkins; ‘any one

would suppose, to hear you talk, that you had become tired of a thief’s

life. But what think ye of my determination, my lads?’

‘It is a famous one,’ answered Mike, ‘and cannot fail to work us good.’

‘It must add much to our coffers one way or another,’ resumed Jenkins;

‘and I take no small credit to myself for the thought; besides, you know

that we have the fellow, Blodget, entirely in our power, that murder,

which—’

‘Right, right,’ interrupted Mike; ‘if that were known, it would not be

long before Mr. Blodget would swing upon a gallows.’

‘Indeed it would not,’ returned Jenkins; ‘and he knows that, and dreads

us. The lady is a beautiful woman, and I almost envy him his prize; but

something may yet happen to place her in my possession instead of his,

and I do not know that I should be over nice about availing myself of

such an opportunity.’

At this moment, between the pauses of the blast, they heard a loud

knocking at the door, and they looked at each other suspiciously, and

starting involuntarily to their feet, placed their hands upon their

revolvers, and prepared for action in case they should be surprised.

‘Who is there?’ demanded the landlord.

‘It is only I, Blodget,’ was the answer, and being satisfied that it was

his voice, the door was cautiously opened, and the villain entered. He

greeted them all heartily, and then, by the invitation of Jenkins,

having taken his seat at the table, the mirth of the gang was resumed,

and carried on with increased spirit, Blodget joining in with as much

freedom as if he had been one of the gang.

‘Well, Mr. Blodget,’ asked Jenkins, ‘and don’t you think I managed this

business very well for you?’

‘Aye, Jenkins,’ answered Blodget; ‘you did everything that I could wish;

but think you she will be safe where she is?’

‘Safe!’ repeated Jenkins; ‘as safe as when she was buried deep in the

bowels of the earth. Gordon is just the man who will take care of her.’

‘That is well,’ replied Blodget; ‘but it is not unlikely that I shall

not have any occasion to trouble him long.’

‘Why, you would never be such a fool as to attempt to remove her from a

place of security?’ demanded Jenkins.

‘Circumstances may compel me so to do.’

‘I understand you; but we must see about the best means of preventing

all chance of that,’ said Jenkins; ‘you have been a lucky fellow,

Blodget, to get the lady in your power and at your mercy; it is glorious

revenge.’

‘It is, it is!’ answered Blodget; ‘but not sufficient to gratify me.’

‘No?’

‘No!’

‘What would you, then?’

‘I would have the life of Monteagle.’

‘Ah! would you, then, again commit murder?’

‘Hold!’ said Blodget; ‘mention not my former crime; I cannot think of it

without horror.’

‘And yet you can contemplate another deed equally as sanguinary?’

‘Yes, the death of the detested Monteagle I can contemplate, coolly

contemplate; and I shall never rest satisfied until it is accomplished.’

‘And would you dare to perpetrate it yourself?’ asked Jenkins.

‘I dare,’ answered Blodget; ‘were he to cross my path; but were I to

follow him to the Mission, or wherever he may be, I should in all

probability be discovered, and taken prisoner, and then all my schemes

would at once be frustrated. If any one would undertake to commit the

crime, I would not fail to reward them handsomely.’

‘I see,’ said Jenkins; ‘you would have me or one of my men perpetrate

the deed of blood!’

‘I care not who it is, so that it is a man on whom I can depend.’

‘And the reward?’

‘A thousand dollars!’

‘It shall be done.’

‘Ah! say you so? when?’

‘Come, come, you are in too much of a hurry; and there is never anything

done well where so much precipitation is used. We must first ascertain

where Monteagle is.’

‘And that we may have some difficulty at present in finding out,’ said

Blodget, ‘for, doubtless, he has gone in search of Inez. My heart throbs

impatiently for the accomplishment of the deed, and I shall not rest

until I am sure that Monteagle is no more.’

‘On your promise of the reward you have mentioned, the deed shall, by

some means or other, be despatched,’ replied Jenkins; ‘but you must wait

with patience, and we will not lose any time or opportunity to discover

where he is, and to put our plans into execution.’

‘This assurance gratifies me, and I am satisfied that you will not

deceive me!’

‘You have had no reason to doubt me hitherto,’ returned Jenkins; ‘and,

therefore, there is no occasion to do so now, I believe.’

‘But have you any idea how to proceed?’ asked Blodget.

‘In the first place,’ returned Jenkins—‘It will be the best plan to send

one of the gang to the Mission, in disguise. He may be able to learn the

proceedings of Monteagle, and probably find out where he is.’

‘I agree with your design,’ said Blodget, in reply; ‘and should it meet

with success, I shall not be very particular in giving a few additional

dollars to the sum already promised. But Inez, for whom I have run such

a risk, still remains obstinate; and I do not think I shall be able to

conquer her aversion in a hurry.’

‘And of what consequence will that be as she is in your power, she must

yield to your wishes, or you can gain your desires by force.’

‘Force! but I would rather that persuasion would prevail; as

notwithstanding my passion, I cannot bear the idea of violence.’

‘Why, true, it would be much better if it were avoided,’ observed

Jenkins, ‘but come, drink!’

‘Here’s success to all our undertakings,’ said Blodget; and he quaffed

off the contents of his glass.

‘Success to all our undertakings,’ responded the thieves and the toast

was drank tumultuously.

‘You have been a fortunate fellow, Blodget, throughout your whole

career, and have, no doubt, accumulated some money.’

‘Why,’ returned Blodget, with a self-satisfied grin; ‘I have not much

cause to grumble. But then I have had to depend upon my own wit and

ingenuity.’

‘Well, certainly, Blodget, you are a most perfect villain.’

‘I believe I may lay some slight claim to the character.’

‘Not a very slight one either,’ remarked Jenkins.

‘You pay me a very high compliment.’

‘Ha! ha! ha!’

‘But who among your gang will undertake the murder?’

Jenkins looked round upon his fellows, but in not one of their

countenances, reckless and determined as they were, did he notice any

signs of a desire to undertake the sanguinary deed.

‘Who among ye is willing to earn this reward?’ he asked.

There was no answer. Blodget became impatient.

‘What! are ye all silent?’ asked Jenkins.

No one offered to speak.

‘What say you Mike?’

‘I like not the shedding of human blood when it can be avoided,’ he

answered; ‘if, however, Jenkins, you order me to perpetrate this crime,

although it is against my inclination, I will obey you: if I am

permitted to use my own free will, I say I will not commit the crime.

Will that answer suffice?’

‘It will,’ said Jenkins; ‘but Joe, you will not refuse the thousand

dollars?’

‘I would not stain my hands with innocent blood for twenty times one

thousand dollars, unless it was by your command,’ was the answer.

‘And Ben, what say you?’

‘I am a robber, ready to defend myself and my comrades from an attack;

but I am not a cold-blooded deliberate murderer;’ replied Ben.

‘Damnation!’ cried Blodget, fiercely; and he arose from his seat and

hastily traversed the room.

‘Be patient,’ said Jenkins; ‘this matter will be arranged, quicker than

you could possibly expect. You see, Blodget, although they are desperate

men, they are not quite such atrocious monsters as they have been

thought by many.’

‘They are cowards if they shrink from the—’

Before he could finish the sentence, the thieves were all upon their

feet, and by their menacing looks, threatened vengeance.

‘Hold!’ cried Blodget, and they all immediately resumed their seats,

although it was very evident that the observations of Blodget had

greatly enraged them, and there were many scowling brows, which

convinced the villain that he had proceeded almost too far.

‘Blodget,’ continued Jenkins, after a pause; ‘you should be cautious in

what you say, my men are not used to hearing such terms applied to them,

nor do they merit it.’ If Jenkins thought he had a coward amongst his

gang, he would hang him up to the first tree he came to.

‘I was wrong; I was wrong;’ hastily apologized Blodget; ‘and I hope they

will pardon me.’

‘That is enough,’ observed Jenkins; then turning again towards his men,

he demanded—

‘And, so you all refuse to do this deed?’

‘We do;’ was the answer from them all; ‘we shed not human blood only in

our own defence.’

‘One amongst ye shall do the deed, since I have promised this man, and

will not recall my word;’ said Jenkins peremptorily.

There was a discontented murmuring arose from among the thieves.

‘What means this murmuring?’ demanded Jenkins, and his eyes glanced

fiercely upon them; ‘is there one among ye who would dare to disobey my

commands?’

‘I will answer for all my comrades, and say, no,’ said Ben; ‘but we

would avoid an unnecessary deed of blood, and especially under the

circumstances.’

‘I have given my word, and it shall be kept;’ said Jenkins firmly; ‘you

must cast lots!’

The thieves still looked dissatisfied at this determination, and glanced

significantly at each other, but they did not say a word. They scowled

upon Blodget, who, however, did not take much heed of them, certain as

he was, that while the captain of the gang was on his side, he had

nothing to fear from any act of violence they might otherwise

contemplate towards him.

Reluctantly they were about to cast lots, when there was the well-known

signal heard at the room door, which being opened, Gordon was admitted.

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Blodget, ‘you have just come in time, Gordon; I have a

proposition to make to you.’

‘Name it,’ answered the ruffian.

Jenkins repeated the question he had put to the others. Gordon appeared

to catch at the idea, and the thieves eagerly awaited his reply, anxious

to be released from the perpetration of a crime, from which they all

revolted.

Gordon did not make any immediate answer, and he appeared to be

meditating upon the proposal.

‘Do you also hesitate, Gordon?’ inquired the captain;—‘you were not

always so particular.’

‘I do not hesitate, only for one reason;’ returned the miscreant.

‘Name it!’ said Blodget.

‘Let Blodget give two thousand dollars, and the deed shall be

accomplished,’ was the villain’s answer.

‘It shall be yours,’ ejaculated Blodget.

‘Enough!’ said Gordon, ‘I have your word that the money shall be paid,

and Jenkins, no doubt, will be answerable that you do not fly from your

agreement?’

‘I will,’ returned the captain.

‘There is no occasion for it,’ observed Blodget, ‘if you do not deceive

me, I will not deceive you.’

‘You had better not,’ said Gordon, with a sinister look.

‘You have good security for my keeping my promise,’ added Blodget; ‘let

the deed be done, and the money shall immediately be yours.’

‘But if I should fail?’

‘If you do not wilfully fail, then one half the money shall be your

reward for your trouble,’ said Blodget.

‘Enough,’ replied Gordon, ‘then the bargain is sealed; I will undertake

the hazardous deed.’

‘Thanks, thanks!’ said the blood-thirsty Blodget; ‘perform your task

well, and you will have my eternal gratitude.’

‘Pshaw!’ cried the ruffian, with a sardonic grin; ‘of what use is

gratitude to me? It is not a marketable commodity. But what about the

care of Inez?’

‘Blodget will reside in the house during your absence, and I will leave

Joe to assist him in his charge,’ replied the captain.

‘That arrangement will do,’ said Gordon, after a pause.

‘When will you start on your expedition?’ inquired Blodget.

‘Immediately. There is no necessity for delay,’ answered Gordon.

‘’Tis well,’ observed Blodget; ‘but you will go disguised?’

‘Oh, leave me alone for that,’ returned Gordon. ‘I have more reasons

than one not to wish to be known; or the first news that you heard of me

would, in all probability be, that I was the inmate of a prison. I will

so disguise myself that it must be a penetrating eye, indeed which could

recognize me.’

‘To-morrow, then?’

‘I quit this place, and make my way for the Mission,’ rejoined Gordon.

‘True; and to meet with success, I trust.’

‘It shall not be my fault, if I do not.’

‘You will forward us intelligence when you arrive there; for I shall be

all impatience till I hear from you;’ said Blodget.

‘I will,’ replied Gordon, ‘unless I see that there would be any danger

in so doing.’

‘Certainly.’

‘And now that this business is settled,’ observed Jenkins, ‘let us

proceed to enjoy ourselves—come, my lads, replenish your glasses.’

The thieves obeyed this order with hilarity, and the villain Blodget

being satisfied with the inhuman design he had formed, and the atrocious

wretch who had undertaken to accomplish it, joined heartily with them in

their revelry, which they kept up for more than an hour afterwards, when

Blodget, Gordon, and Joe returned to the house, and the captain and the

rest of the thieves departed.

Blodget felt a savage sensation of delight fill his bosom, at the

prospect of the full consummation of his most diabolical hatred and

revenge against Monteagle; and he entertained the most sanguine

anticipations of the success of his plot. Gordon was a deep, designing,

and determined villain, and he had no doubt but that the reward which he

had promised him, would induce him to exert himself to the uttermost.

‘Yes,’ he soliloquized, when he was alone in his chamber, after parting

with Gordon and Joe for the night; ‘I feel confident that Gordon will

not fail, and, that ere many weeks have elapsed, my hated foe will be no

more. Oh, this will be goodly revenge. Inez, too, will then be securely

mine, and nothing will release her from my power!’

The wretch paced his chamber, as he thus spoke, and his eyes sparkled

with exultation. He pictured to himself in imagination, the unbounded

bliss that was in store for him in the gratification of his sensual and

disgusting passions, and he determined that but a short time should

elapse, ere he would have the full accomplishment of all his wishes. He

slept but little that night, for thinking upon his villainous

stratagems, and when he reflected that he was beneath the same roof with

the unfortunate Inez, and had it in his power to force her to an

immediate compliance with his wishes, he could with difficulty keep his

ecstasy within the bounds of reason.

In the morning Gordon, after having so disguised himself that no person

could by any possibility recognize him, and having received some fresh

instructions and injunctions from Blodget, took his departure on his

inhuman errand, and Blodget and Joe, with an old woman, were left alone

in the house.

We need not inform the reader of the distracting hours of misery Inez

had undergone since her incarceration in the house. Her sufferings were

almost too powerful for human endurance, and it was wonderful how she

could retain her senses. Her agonizing thoughts were divided between her

own situation and that of her father, and her disordered imagination

pictured them, if possible, more dreadful than they actually were.

‘I shall never behold him again,’ she sighed, and scalding tears chased

each other down her pale cheeks; ‘alas! I am torn from them forever. Or,

if we should be again destined to meet, under what circumstances may it

not be? Myself, perhaps, dishonored—heart-broken; my poor father a

raving maniac. Oh, Heavens! the picture that arises upon my imagination

is too horrible for contemplation.’

She wrung her hands, and traversed her gloomy chamber with a trembling

step.

‘To be beneath the same roof with a murderer, too,’ she added, ‘and

that, too, a murderer of the blackest dye! Oh, God! have I not good

reason to be distracted? That terrible night when I overheard the

wretches conversing upon the monstrous crime of which they had been

guilty—when I saw them inter the mangled body of the poor white-haired

old man, their unfortunate victim, comes fresh upon my memory as if it

had only been just enacted. My heart seems chilled to ice; oh, surely

the misfortunes that have since attended me have been a curse upon me

for not having given such information of the circumstance as might have

led to the apprehension of the assassins. The unfortunate old man’s

bones moulder in unhallowed ground, and his blood calls to Heaven for

retribution.’

She trembled violently, and almost imagined that she heard a melancholy

sigh breathed close to her ear. She staggered to a chair and leant upon

it for support, fearing to look around her, lest she should encounter

the ghastly and blood-stained face of the murdered man.

All was profoundly still in the house, and the miscreants who inhabited

it seemed to be locked in the arms of sleep. Sleep! how could wretches

whose consciences were burthened with such a heavy weight of crime,

sleep?

The light in the lamp burnt dim, and imparted a still more gloomy

appearance to the chamber; and the wind howled dismally without,

increasing the horrors of that solemn hour. Inez seated herself by the

side of her bed, and, after a pause, did once more venture to look

around the room, but nothing but of an ordinary description met her

observation.

‘What dreadful crimes may they not have perpetrated in this house! in

this very chamber!’ She once more reflected, and again her terrors arose

to a pitch almost insupportable.

The light in her lamp, which had for some time only been faintly

glimmering, now suddenly died away, and our heroine was left in utter

darkness. How she longed for the morning, and that she had some female

companion near her in that dismal place, if it was only the repulsive

old woman; some one to whom she could speak; but silent and dreary was

everything around her, it was like being confined in a tomb. She had

kept the embers of the fire together as long as she could, but that had

also become extinguished, and the room felt cold as it was dismal and

cheerless.

At length she crept into the bed with her clothes on, and covered her

head with the counterpane, filled with a sensation of terror, she found

it utterly impossible to conquer. She endeavored to sleep; but her mind

was too much distressed to suffer her to succeed, and she tossed to and

fro in a state of agitation, which no one but those who have been placed

in a similar situation, can form an adequate idea of. The interview she

had had with Blodget, rushed upon her memory, and she recollected every

word that he had spoken, and which had given her every reason to

apprehend the worse consequences from his determination. Even the sight

of that inhuman man inspired her with a feeling of horror no language

can do justice to, and she dreaded a meeting with him as much as she

would have done the most fearful calamity which could have befallen her.

‘But I will be firm,’ she reflected; ‘I will muster up all my woman’s

fortitude, strong in the defence of her honor, to meet him, and oppose

his importunities in a manner that shall deter him from proceeding to

violence. Providence surely will not forsake me in this moment of bitter

trial, but will throw its protecting shield over me, and defeat the

brutal designs of the libertine and the miscreant! Yes, I will put my

trust in Heaven, and prepare to meet my heavy trials with a firmness and

resolution becoming of me!’

These thoughts somewhat composed her spirits, and after a short time

spent in further rumination, she did at last sink into a disturbed

slumber, in which she remained until the sun had risen in the eastern

horizon.

She arose, not in the least refreshed, and had not been up many minutes

when she heard the key turning in the lock, and soon afterwards the old

woman entered with the breakfast.

She placed them on the table, and then fixed upon our heroine a

scrutinizing look, and shook her head.

‘Well,’ said she, in her usual disagreeable tones;—‘pale cheeks and red

eyes; no sleep again, I suppose, it puzzles me how you young women can

live without rest? when I was your age, nothing could ever prevent my

sleeping.’

‘When the mind is oppressed with such unprecedented and heavy sorrows as

those that disturb mine,’ answered Inez—‘if it is not entirely

insensible, sleep may be courted in vain.’

‘Pho! how very melancholy and dismal you do look, to be sure,’ answered

the old woman; ‘any one would imagine that you had experienced all the

troubles in the world; but stop till you become my age, and then you may

have cause to complain.’

‘Some person’s troubles,’ returned Inez; ‘are brought on them by

themselves; by their own vices, and—’

‘Ah!’ interrupted the old woman, snappishly; ‘no doubt you think that a

very pointed and sarcastic observation, but, as the cap don’t happen to

fit me, I shall not wear it. Mr. Blodget will pay you a visit presently,

and perhaps you may deem it prudent to behave a little more civil to

him.’

Inez shuddered.

‘Oh, tell me,’ she said; ‘is he in the house?’

‘Oh, yes, to be sure he is,’ answered the old woman; ‘for he has taken

up his quarters here altogether now, and therefore you will have plenty

of his company.’

‘Living in the same house,’ muttered our heroine to herself, and she

trembled more violently than before; ‘alas! what will become of me?’

‘Oh, no doubt he will take plenty of care of you, young lady,’ answered

the old woman, with a bitter sneer.

‘He shall find,’ said Inez, mustering up sudden firmness, and speaking

in a tone that astonished and abashed the old woman, ‘he shall find that

I have both the spirit and the virtue to resist his importunities, and

Heaven will aid me to defeat his design. The guilty wretch; surely for

his many crimes a terrible retribution must be now pending o’er his

head.’

‘The spirit you boast of, young lady,’ said the old woman, ‘I have no

doubt will be very quickly turned, or Mr. Blodget is not half so

accomplished as I take him to be.’

Inez darted upon her a look of disgust and indignation, but she could

not make her any reply, and after making two or three observations of a

similar description, the old woman quitted the room.

We need not attempt to describe the feelings of our heroine when the old

woman had gone: the disgusting observations of the old woman, and the

fearful prospects which was before her, filled her bosom with the utmost

consternation, and although she tried very hard to rally her spirits,

and prepare to meet Blodget with fortitude, it was some considerable

time before she had it in her power to succeed. To know that Blodget was

an inmate of the same house with her, was sufficient of itself to excite

the greatest agony in her bosom; and when she reflected that it was not

probable that he would longer be able to restrain his wild, unbridled

passions, and that any resistance on her part, would be completely

futile, she became almost distracted.—Alas! she thought, how much more

preferable would death have been to the state of agony in which she was

thus constantly kept. It was only for the sake of Monteagle and her

father, whom she could not entirely despair of beholding again, that she

clung to life, and had she not had them to occupy her thoughts, and her

heart’s warmest affections, she would have met death with fortitude,

nay, even pleasure. What had been the last few days of her life, but of

misery? All mankind had seemed arrayed in enmity against her, and few

indeed were the real friends she had found. Her tears flowed fast at

these thoughts, and they gave relief to her overcharged bosom.

At length she struggled with her emotions, and so far regained her

composure, that she was enabled to partake of the repast which the old

woman brought her, and to prepare to meet Blodget, whom she had no

doubt, and indeed the old woman had said he would, visit her in a short

time.

She had but just risen from her knees having implored the protection of

the Holy Virgin, when she heard footsteps ascending the stairs, and

directly afterwards, her room door was unlocked, and the object of her

fears and detestation entered.

He stood in the doorway for a minute or two, and it was hard to perceive

whether he was awed and abashed by the calm dignity and firmness of her

demeanor, or lost in admiration of her superlative beauty—still most

exquisite, although her once blooming cheeks were pale and wan with

heavy care.

Inez had mustered up uncommon fortitude, and, as Blodget entered, she

fixed upon him a look which was sufficient to penetrate the most

insensible breast. It was one of the most cutting reproach, while

resentment, and a firm reliance upon the strength of her own virtue, and

the protection of heaven, shown predominant in the general expression of

her resistance, and approaching her with a look of admiration which

could create no other sentiment than one of hatred in her breast, he

attempted to take her hand and press her lips, but she hastily withdrew

it and, spurning him scornfully away from her, exclaimed—

‘Begone, sir, your presence is disgusting to me. Dare not thus to insult

the victim of your guilt.’

‘Who’s the master, now, fair Inez?’ demanded the villain, and a look of

exultation overspread his features; ‘who triumphs now?’

‘Oh, villain—heartless villain!’ cried Inez, her bosom swelling with

agony, ‘can you stand there and talk to me thus? Are you not afraid that

the vengeance of the Almighty will immediately descend upon your head,

and render you powerless to do further harm?’

‘I scorn it.’

Inez shuddered with horror at the words of the wretch; who, however,

presently altered his tone, and once more endeavoring to take her hand,

which she successfully resisted, he assumed an insinuating smile, and in

a voice of gentle persuasion, said—

‘Pray pardon me, beauteous Inez, if I have been led into the expression

of words that have caused anguish to your feelings; but the injuries I

have received from Monteagle—’

‘’Tis false!’ scornfully replied our heroine, and her brilliant eyes

appeared to flash fire; ‘Monteagle never injured you, but you was ever

the serpent in his bosom, waiting an opportunity to destroy his peace,

and you have yourself acknowledged the same, and expressed your inhuman

exultation at the misery which you have caused him.’

‘Well,’ returned Blodget, with the utmost coolness, and the boldness of

his manner increasing, ‘I will not deny it, because there is no

necessity for my so doing, as the power is now mine. I have already had

a terrible revenge, but still it is not complete, and never will I rest

until it is wholly accomplished.’

‘Oh, Blodget!’ ejaculated Inez, her fortitude failing her when she saw

the villain’s recklessness and determination, and reflected that she was

entirely in his power, and left solely to his mercy, or the

interposition of Providence, ‘will nothing induce you to relent in your

cruelty?’

‘Nothing,’ answered Blodget, ‘until I have gained the full gratification

of my wishes, and the consummation of all my hopes. Then only shall I be

satisfied.’

‘What mean you?’

‘You will behold Monteagle no more.’

‘Oh, God!’ ejaculated Inez, and her heart throbbed heavily against her

side, her cheeks turned ashy pale, and her limbs trembled violently as a

dread of something terrible about to take place, through the guilty

machinations of the wretch who stood before her, darted upon her brain;

‘cruel as you are, surely you would not seek his life?’

A grim and sardonic smile passed over the features of Blodget as she

gave utterance to these words, but he returned no answer; his looks

spoke more than words, and had a thunderbolt at that moment descended

upon her head, Inez could not have felt more paralyzed and awe-struck

than she did at that time. With distended eye-lids, she fixed upon him a

look which was sufficient to have penetrated even the most obdurate

heart, and to carry awe to the guilty soul; her features became stern

and fixed; her lips parted but she uttered no sound, and, suddenly

approaching the astonished Blodget, she grasped his arm vehemently, and

looked full upon him. Blodget could not help, in spite of all his

hardihood, shuddering beneath her gaze, and the singularity of her

behavior, but he was not a minute before he completely recovered

himself, and looking coolly and indifferently upon her, awaited what she

had got to say without first offering any observation of his own.

‘Blodget!’ at length ejaculated our heroine, in a solemn tone of voice,

and with her brilliant and expressive eyes still fixed with the same

earnestness of expression upon his countenance; ‘Blodget, in the name of

that Almighty power who guides all our actions, and before whose dread

tribunal you must some time or the other appear, however much at present

you may despise His name—by all your hopes of forgiveness for the many

and heinous crimes you have committed, I charge you tell me—solemnly

tell me, what are your wicked designs?’

‘Psha!’ cried Blodget, and a fearful smile again overspread his

countenance.

‘Nay, I command you, in the name of the most High, to set my horrible

fears at rest, and tell me,’ demanded Inez, and her heart throbbed more

violently than ever, and her whole soul seemed to be wrapped up in the

answer which Blodget would return to her; and she appeared as if she

would drag the secret from his heart with her eyes.

‘Enough of this,’ at last said Blodget, ‘I came not here to talk upon a

subject like this, and—’

‘Heartless miscreant!’ interrupted Inez, ‘too well can I read in your

dark and portentous looks the base design you have in contemplation. But

Heaven will interpose to prevent the execution of your infamous

intention, and to save Monteagle from your monstrous machinations.’

‘We shall see,’ returned Blodget, with the same consummate coolness he

had before evinced; ‘we shall see. But hear me, Inez—’

‘I will not listen to you, until you have answered my question,’

observed Inez ‘your very words are as poison to my soul.’

‘But you must and shall hear me,’ exclaimed the other, with a determined

air, and once more endeavoring to take our heroine’s hand; ‘you are

securely in my power, and think you that I will be frightened from my

purpose by an obstinate woman’s heroics. I come to offer you my love;

you reject it, but that shall not avail you, for force shall make you

comply with my wishes. As for Monteagle, I tell you once again you will

see him no more.’

The courage of Inez completely failed her, tears gushed to her eyes,

and, sinking upon her knees, with clasped hands, she supplicated the

ruffian’s forbearance; but she pleaded to a heart callous to every sense

of feeling: he gazed upon her emotion with indifference, and he exulted

at the manner in which he had subdued her spirit, and flattered himself

that, in time, she would be entirely conquered, and made to yield

subserviently to his will. However, he endeavored to disguise his real

feelings, and, assuming as mild an expression as he could, he raised

Inez from the posture in which she had been kneeling, and affected to

smile kindly upon her. For the moment she was deceived by his looks, and

hope suddenly darted upon her mind.

‘You will relent,’ she ejaculated, ‘that smile assures me that you will.

You cannot, surely, be so cruel as to seek the life of Monteagle. Has

not the anguish you have already caused him, and the miseries he is at

present undergoing, all through you, been the means of sufficiently

appeasing your vengeance? Oh, Blodget! repent ere it is too late, and

restore me to my friends, and again I promise you that you shall receive

my pardon and that of those who are dear to me, although the injury you

have inflicted on them and me is almost irreparable. If there is one

spark of humanity in your breast, if there is the smallest portion of

that feeling remaining in your heart, towards that sex who claims

protection from every man, I shall not supplicate in vain; you will

accede to my request, and once more open to me the doors of liberty; and

suffer me to fly once more to the arms of my father—my poor bereaved

parent!’

‘Beauteous Inez,’ returned the wretch; ‘this is madness, and a silly

waste of time. Think you, then, that after all the trouble I have taken,

the risks I have run, and the plans I have laid down to get you in my

power, that I will now quietly resign you? Think you that I would place

myself at the mercy of my enemies? No, no! you must give up all idea of

such a thing, and, henceforth, look upon me in the same light as your

husband, for you and I must not again easily separate! You must yield to

my wishes, and that speedily; I would have you do so of your own free

will; but if, after a given time you still remain foolishly obstinate,

then must I, however much it may be against my wishes, use force.

Resistance, you perceive, will be in vain, and therefore, I advise you

to make up your mind to assent without it; then shall you receive every

attention from me, and I will behave in a manner that shall leave you no

cause to regret your separation from your father.’

‘Fiend in human shape,’ ejaculated Inez, ‘leave me! My soul freezes with

horror as I listen to you! But I will not entirely despair, although you

have bid me to do so; Heaven will interpose to prevent the execution of

your base threats.’

‘Did Heaven interpose to prevent my getting you in my power?’ inquired

Blodget, with a sardonic grin. ‘Once more I tell you, you shall be mine,

and nothing shall save you!’

‘Never, villain!’ cried Inez.

‘Be cautions what you say, lady, lest you exasperate me,’ returned

Blodget, with a threatening frown, which made our heroine tremble; ‘you

forget that I could this day—this very moment—force you to a compliance

with my wishes, and where is there one near at hand who could come to

save you?’

‘By Heavens I would die first!’

‘Bah!’ sneered Blodget; ‘but I am tired of this useless contest of

words; you know my determination, and rest assured that I will only

await a very few days for your answer, and then, if you do not consent,

you know the consequences.’

‘Once more I pray your mercy,’ said the distracted Inez, with clasped

hands, and looks of earnest supplication; ‘beware! oh, beware! ere you

proceed to extremities.’

‘You have it in your power to move me to pity and love, fair Inez,’

returned Blodget; ‘one smile from you, one word of affection from those

ruby lips would act with the influence of magic upon me and make me

quite a different man. Blodget would then live alone for love and you;

and there should not be a pleasure which it should not be my constant

endeavor to procure you.’

Inez turned from the villain with a look of the utmost disgust, and she

groaned aloud in the intensity of her anguished feelings. Blodget

advanced nearer to her, and sought to put his arms around her waist, but

the action immediately aroused her, and retreating to the further end of

the room, she fixed upon him such a look as awed him into immediate

forbearance.

‘Still madly obstinate!’ he exclaimed; ‘but time must alter this proud

beauty, and you must yield to the desires of Blodget, however repugnant

it may be to your feelings. At present I leave you, but shortly you will

behold me again, and then I trust that you will see the policy of giving

me a more favorable reception than you have done this morning.’

As he spoke, Blodget fixed one glance of expressive meaning, and then

quitting the room, he securely fastened the door after him.

‘The perverse woman,’ he soliloquized, as he walked away; ‘but she must

be subdued;—she must be subdued; Blodget cannot much longer endure her

resistance. Oh, did she but know the plot I have formed against the life

of Monteagle—but I said quite enough to arouse her fears, although I now

wish that I had not done so, as it would be sure not to promote my

wishes. I wish not to have to use violence, or I could do so directly;

no, my greater triumph would be to prevail upon her to give her own free

consent, and that would add to the gratification of my revenge. Blodget,

if you fail in this, it will be the first time that you have failed in

any of your undertakings.’

The villain walked away, and after giving strict injunctions to Joe to

keep safe watch over his charge, he bent his footsteps towards the

cabaret, at which he and the thieves had been the night before

carousing, and where, in a back room, he could commune with his own

thoughts, without any fear of interruption.

--------------

CHAPTER XVI

The Critical Move—Attempted Escape.

When Blodget had retired from the room, our heroine gave vent to the

painful feelings which her interview with him had excited in her bosom;

and hope seemed to have faded entirely away from her mind; for if the

villain remained obstinately resolved to put his diabolical threats into

execution, what means had she of resisting him? None! Then again the

hints he had given convinced her that he had some base design in his

mind.

She was aroused from these reflections by the entrance of the old woman

who had come to do something in her apartment, and whose disagreeable

looks assured our heroine that she took a pleasure in tormenting her,

and saying anything which she thought might excite her feelings, and

Inez, therefore, determined to avoid conversing with her, as much as she

possibly could. The old woman, however, appeared to be determined that

she should not escape so easily; for the words she had so pointedly

directed to her in the morning, remained in her memory; and after having

eyed her with an insolent glance for a second or two, she ejaculated, in

her usual harsh but querulous tones:—

‘I hope your ladyship feels happier after the interview you have had

with your lover, and that the observations he has addressed to you, have

met your approbation. Oh, he is a very nice gentleman! He! he! he!’

And the disgusting old woman croaked forth a laugh, which could scarcely

have been imagined to have been uttered by anything but a witch; and

appeared to think that she had spoken very wittily and sarcastically.

But Inez did not deign to condescend her any answer, and she averted her

eyes, for there was something so remarkably disagreeable in the woman’s

face, that she could not bear to look upon it.

The old woman saw plain enough that her observations annoyed Inez, and

although she felt rather vexed and disappointed that she did not answer

her, she determined to follow them up.

‘It seems that you have lost your tongue since your interview with Mr.

Blodget,’ she said; ‘but that is of very little consequence, I can talk

enough for you and I too, and as Gordon has left the house, you will, in

all probability, have a little more of my company than you otherwise

would have done.’

‘Gordon left the house?’ repeated our heroine eagerly; ‘thank Heaven!’

‘Indeed!’ said the old woman; ‘then, if his absence affords you

pleasure, I can tell you that it will not be of long duration;—he is

only gone some distance on a secret mission, for which he is to receive

a handsome reward from Mr. Blodget!’

‘Ah!’ cried our heroine, turning very pale, and a feeling of horror

coming over her; ‘on a secret mission for Blodget? In what fresh plot of

villainy is he engaged?’

‘Oh, that I do not know; and if I did, it is not very likely that I

should inform you. It is something of importance I dare say, or else

Gordon would not have been employed; and no doubt concerns you.’

Inez felt her horror increase, and she trembled so that she could

scarcely stand. The old hag observed her emotion with much satisfaction,

and a savage grin overspread her features.

‘Something that concerns me;’ she exclaimed, and her terrible

forebodings convinced her that the old woman did not make use of these

observations without good reason.

‘Oh, my dear friend!’ she added, as she recalled to her memory the dark

hints which Blodget had given utterance to, and covering her face with

her hands, she sobbed hysterically. ‘Oh, my unfortunate rescuer;’ she

continued, ‘I tremble for you; surely this is some dark plot against

you. Heaven protect you and avert the evil fate destined to you by your

implacable enemy!’

‘If Blodget only plays his cards successfully, as he has hitherto done,

I do not think that there is much chance of your seeing your _poor

unfortunate_ lover again;’ said the hag with a sneer, and a look which

was perfectly hideous.

Poor Inez gazed upon the unnatural old beldame with a look of horror and

disgust.

‘Inhuman woman;’ she ejaculated, ‘thus to take a pleasure in tormenting

one of your own sex, who has never offended you, and whose misfortunes

and oppressions ought to excite your pity and sympathy.’

‘Pity and sympathy,’ repeated the woman, with bitter sarcasm; ‘they are

qualities that none but fools would retain possession of; I never

experienced them from any person yet, and I have banished mine from my

breast many years since.’

‘I do believe you,’ sighed Inez; ‘but I can sincerely pity _you_, for

there will be a time come when you will be brought to a terrible sense

of your iniquities, and awful will then be the punishment you will have

to undergo.’

‘Hey day!’ exclaimed the beldame; ‘I declare you’re quite an adept at

preaching a sermon, but its beauties are entirely lost upon me; and I do

not think that you will find Mr. Blodget any more ready to approve of

them than I am.’

‘Leave the room,’ said Inez, in a tone of resentment, ‘and let me alone

to my reflections; your language is brutal, and I will not listen to

it.’

‘But I am afraid you will have to listen to it very frequently,’

returned the old woman, ‘as disagreeable as it may be. As for leaving

the room, you will please to recollect that you are not mistress here,

consequently I shall not attend to your orders until it pleases me.’

Inez walked away, and throwing herself into a chair, once more covered

her face with her hands, determined not to pay any future attention to

what the old harridan might say. The latter laughed sneeringly, and

after muttering a few spiteful remarks that our heroine did not hear,

she applied herself more assiduously to the task she had to perform in

the room, and at the same time hummed, in discordant tones, snatches

from different vulgar songs, which fell listlessly upon the ears of

Inez, who was too deeply engaged by her own melancholy thoughts to pay

any attention to them.

At length having, much to the satisfaction of our heroine, completed her

domestic duties in the room, the woman fixed upon Inez a spiteful look,

and then retired from the apartment. When she had gone, our heroine

immediately sunk upon her knees, and, with upraised hands, she implored

the mercy of the Supreme Being, and that He would protect her father and

her lover from any danger by which they might be threatened. She arose

more composed and confident, and endeavored to hope that, after all, the

wicked designs of Blodget might be foiled, and that something would yet

transpire to release her from her present incarceration, and the future

persecution of the villain Blodget, for whom no punishment could be

adequate to the different crimes he had been guilty of.

Frequently did her thoughts revert to home, and she could well imagine

the grief experienced at her mysterious disappearance. The idea of the

deplorable condition of Monteagle was maddening nay, perhaps he was no

more, and she was not present to receive his last sigh, or to enfold him

in a dying embrace.—The thought was almost past endurance; and it was a

fortunate thing for our heroine that a torrent of tears came to the

relief of her overcharged heart.

Three weeks elapsed without any material change taking place in the

situation or prospects of Inez. Blodget visited her every day, and she

was annoyed by his disgusting importunities; and frequently was he so

worked up by the opposition which she offered to him, that he was half

tempted to proceed to violence; but a secret power appeared to restrain

him, and to watch over his unfortunate victim.

Blodget was in a state of considerable anxiety and suspense, for he had

not yet heard anything from Gordon, and sometimes he was fearful that he

had been detected and was in custody; but again he thought, if he had

been so, he should see some account of it in the newspapers, and he,

therefore, at last endeavored to conclude that Gordon thought it prudent

not to write to him, and that he was in a fair way of being ultimately

successful in his blood-thirsty designs.

The thieves had made several successful hauls, since the departure of

Gordon, and they were not less anxious than Blodget was to know what had

become of him, and whether he was safe, for Gordon was acquainted with

many circumstances that might greatly endanger them, should he be

tempted to divulge them. Such is the doubt and suspicions that ever

exist between the guilty.

At length, however, after another fortnight, a message arrived at the

ranch of Gordon, which came from him, and it may well be imagined with

what eager haste Blodget broke the seal, and glanced his eyes over the

contents. They afforded him the most unbounded satisfaction.

‘Ah! by the infernal host! this is capital,’ exclaimed Blodget, when he

had concluded perusing the letter; ‘my vengeance will soon be complete;

and I have no doubt that Gordon will shortly be able to discover

Monteagle, and to accomplish the deed for which my soul pants.’

He immediately sought out Jenkins, who was at his usual place of resort

when he was not on his expeditions, and showed him the letter from

Gordon. The robber captain perused it with satisfaction, and his

apprehensions were now at rest.

‘What think you of the suggestion which Gordon has made?’ asked Blodget,

when Jenkins had finished reading the letter.

‘Why, that it is a very excellent one,’ answered the captain.

‘True,’ coincided Blodget.

‘You will avail yourself of it, then?’

‘Why, think you not I should be foolish to miss such an opportunity?’

‘I do.’

‘Gordon deserves an extra reward for this.’

‘He is a shrewd fellow.’

‘And one who does not stand particular about trifles.’

‘No, crime and he are familiar. But how would you accomplish this

design?’

‘I have not as yet had time to consider it properly,’ answered Blodget;

‘can you give me any advice, captain?’

‘Gordon I do not think can do it without assistance.’

‘Probably not.’

‘If I and a crew run the risk of going in a boat to Mission Creek, and

bring the fellow away, of course you will reward us?’

‘Certainly; but that course will be attended with much danger, for

should the real character of your boat be known—’

‘Oh, I can manage it so that there will be no danger of a discovery

taking place,’ replied Jenkins.

‘Ah, then, be it so, and we will not fall out about the reward.’

‘Agreed,’ answered the captain, ‘an answer must, therefore, be

despatched to the place where Gordon is staying, acquainting him with

our intentions, so that he may make the necessary preparations for

carrying our designs into execution.’

‘It shall be done immediately. But think you that success is at all

likely?’

‘It is all but certain.’

‘And had Monteagle better be brought to the house where Inez is

confined?’

‘That you can use your own pleasure in,’ replied Jenkins.

Blodget reflected for a few moments.

‘No,’ he at last said, ‘it shall not be so at present; I think it would

be as well not to let Inez know anything about it for a short time.’

‘Why so?’

The Mysteries and Miseries of San Francisco Showing up all the various characters and notabilities, (both in high and low life) that have figured in San Franciso since its settlement. · 第 10 / 11 章

Kitty had, in her half sleepy state, ran against the foot of the bed and