 Section 5 of Mysteries of London, Volume 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds. Old Death in the Dungeon. It was five o'clock in the evening of the following day, and Old Death was crouched up like a wild beast upon his bed in the dungeon, which was now lighted by the lamp that Esther de Medina had given him. His natural emaciation had so frightfully increased that he seemed but a skeleton in the clothes which hung upon him as if they had never been made for one so thin as he. The skirts of his old gray coat were wrapped around his wasted shanks for though it was now the month of May, yet it was cold in that dungeon. His countenance was wan and ghastly, but its expression was little calculated to excite pity for anything more diabolically ferocious than the old miscreant's aspect cannot be well conceived. His face was the horrible reflex of a mind filled with passions and longings of so savage and inhuman a nature that the mere thought makes one shudder. She will come presently he muttered to himself with a kind of subdued growling which indicated the fury of his pent-up rage. She will come presently he repeated his eyes glaring like those of a hyena beneath his shaggy overhanging brows, and perhaps it will be for today. Who knows, she may think me penitent enough to be no longer dangerous, and then, then he paused and ground his jaws savagely together as if they were filled with teeth, and his hands were clenched with such spasmodic violence that the long nails ran into the palms. For two months and a half he continued at length and still musing to himself as the fiend, the infernal wretch, my mortal enemy kept me here. For two months and a half have I been his prisoner, perdition sees upon him. That man was sent into the world to be my ruin, to thwart me, to persecute me. From the moment I ever met him, six or seven months ago, all has gone wrong with me. But the day of vengeance must then shall come, yes, vengeance, vengeance, though it costs me my life. Ah, he fancies that I am ignorant of his secret, and yet I understand it all now, yes, all, all. Rapidas was the gleam of the lamp which showed me his features the first time he ever visited me here. So quick did I, a light flashed through my mind, so quick did the truth break upon me, yes, yes, I understand it all now. And he chuckled in a scarcely audible manner, yet more horribly menacing because it was so subdued and low. But how can it be, how could he have been saved? He asked himself in his somber musings, then after a brief pause, during which he rocked to and fro on the bed he continued, Never mind the how, that such is the fact I am confident, and that is enough for me, yes, yes, that is enough for me. Fool that I was ever for a moment to suspect him to be Lord Ellingham, and yet I should have clung through this belief, had not the lamp glared upon his face as he darted out of the cell. Ah, ah, he little things that I know him now, that I have known him ever since the moment when the light showed me his features, blackened as they were, ah, ah, again chuckled old death. I fancy that I have lulled them into an idea of my penitence, they imagined that the work of Reformation has begun with me. I played my cards well there, I did not whine and weep too soon, I appeared to be precious, tough and precious obstinate, and my slow conversion seemed all the more natural, they will fall all the easier into the snare. They, at this moment, a slight noise at the door of the cell made the ancient miscreant start, and he instantaneously composed his features into as mournful and sanctimonious an expression as such a horribly hanged dog countenance could possibly assume. The trapdoor opened in a sweet musical voice that I am here again, according to my promise, you see that I do not desert you. Ah, my dear young lady cried old death, affecting a tremulous tone, you are too good to such a dreadful sinner as I have been. My God, when I think of all the atrocity that I once planned against you, I feel inclined to implore you to depart from even the vicinity of such a wretch as me. Have you not been already assured that you are fully and completely forgiven in reference to the wickedness to which you allude? Demanded the young lady whose beautiful countenance was now plainly visible to old death through the grating over the aperture in the door. Yes, Mr. Medina returned the wretch, assuming a still more penitent tone, but I cannot forgive myself. You are an angel, dear young lady, and I am a demon. I know I am. All last night I endeavored to read the Bible that you gave me yesterday, but I cannot settle my mind to the task. I want someone to read it to me if only for half an hour every day, but this cannot be. I am aware it cannot. You, the only person living that could have made such an impression upon me, are afraid to enter my cell. You told me so yesterday, but am I not a human being? Am I a wild beast? Ah, dear young lady, I could not injure you, and the old miscreant appeared to weep. Do you think it would console you if I were to place confidence in you, enter your cell, and read you a portion of the Word of God? Why do you tantalize an old, old man who is miserable enough as it is asked old death in return to this question? Do you suppose that I am not weighed down to the very dust by an awful load of crime? If you are afraid to come into the cell, send me a clergyman. But no, no, he added as if yielding to the sudden influence of a second thought. I will pray with no one but yourself. You have been my good angel. You first touched my heart. I must wait till you have sufficient confidence in me to follow up the blessed work you have already begun so well. Yes, yes, even if I must remain here for a whole year, I will not receive consolation from anyone but you. If I only thought that you were so far advanced in the path of penitence, can you doubt it hastily demanded the prisoner? Have you such little confidence in your own powers of persuasion? Oh, my dear young lady, continue the wretch bawling upon his knees on the floor of the cell and joining his hands together. Have pity upon me, have pity upon me. Your mistrust of me pierces like a dagger to my heart. I crave I long to be able to show you my gratitude, and that can only be by proving my contrition. Dear young lady, have mercy on an old, old man who would embrace the very ground on which you tread. It would be wicked. It would be a crime to refuse your demand, said the sweet musical voice, now tremulous with emotion. The demon-hearted hypocrite called his good angel, stay, I will fetch the key, and on my return I will read the Bible to you. And the Hebrew lady hurried away from the vicinity of the dungeon, and having ascended the spiral stone staircase with rapid steps, entered the apartment, usually inhabited by the black amour. But he was not there, and she paused uncertain how to act for she. She remembered that he had gone out for a short time immediately after giving her certain instructions relative to the conduct she was to maintain towards old death. I should not like to do this without his consent, she murmured to herself, and yet the prisoner is so penitent, so contrite that it would be a sin there, a crime not to confirm the salutary impression, which is now so strong upon him. Yes, she continued, I will take this step upon my own responsibility, surely he will not blame me for thus exceeding his instructions when the cause is so good and the need seems so urgent. Thus speaking, she took down a large key from a nail inside a cupboard and retraced her way to the subterranean. In the meantime, during the ten minutes which her absence lasted, old death was agitated by a thousand conflicting thoughts. In one moment, an infernal joy filled his heart, and he rubbed his hands together in horrible and fiend-like glee. At the next instance, his countenance became convulsed with the hideous workings of his fears that something should occur to prevent the Jewish from entering his cell. He seemed to live an age in that ten minutes, and he felt that if the terrific excitement which he thus endured were to last for an hour, he would crush and overwhelm him. The worst passions of his diabolical nature were set in motion like the waves of the sea, and in that short space of time were awakened feelings which for intensity of awful spite and in better malignity were probably never before nor since paralleled in the breast of man. In the blink there was a slight rustling of a silk dress and the sound of it gentle, though hasty tread in the passage without, and in a few moments the beautiful countenance of the Jewess appeared at the graded aperture. Blessed young lady exclaimed old death, suddenly exercising an immense mastery over his ferocious passions and assuming a tone of mingled gratitude and hope. Heaven grant that the step which I am now taking may have a permanently beneficial effects of the Jewess in her voice profoundly sincere as she placed the key in the lock. Then with her gentle hands she drew back the mass of bolts, and in another moment she entered the dungeon in which the greatest miscreant that ever disgraced human nature was crouched upon the bed like a tiger ready to spring from its lair. For upwards of a minute this dreadful man could scarcely believe his eyes, could scarcely credit his own senses, was it possible that she was there, there in his presence, there in his power. It appeared to be a dream, and a momentary dizziness seized upon him. Give me the Bible, said the Jewess, taking the chair, and do you draw near me. Here is the book observed old death in a deep tone which might well be mistaken for the sign of solemn feelings and was indeed so interpreted. The lady placed the sacred volume upon the table before her and began to turn over its leaves in order to find the passage which he deemed most appropriate and suitable for the circumstances of the occasion. Having discovered the chapter which she sought, she raised her eyes towards old death's countenance in order to assure herself that he was in readiness for her to begin, but a sudden sensation of horror and apprehension seized upon her as she caught the glimpse of the diabolical expression of those features on which the pale light of the flickering lamp fell with sinister effect. Then with a howl of ferocious rage, that old man whom the deep craving after a bloody vengeance now rendered as strong as a giant, that old man precipitated himself upon the terrified Jewess with all the fury of a ravenous monster the chair broke down beneath the shock and with dreadful shrieks and appalling screams, the Hebrew lady fell upon the dungeon floor held tight in the grasp of the miscreant who was uppermost. In another instant those shrieks and screams yielded to subdued moans for his fingers had fixed themselves round her throat like an iron vice. Desperate, desperate were her struggles, the struggles of the agony of death, but Benjamin Bones seemed to gather energy and force from the mere act of this strong resistance and as his grasp tightened round his victim's neck, low but savage growls escaped his lips. By degrees the struggling grew less violent and a gurgling sound succeeded the moans of the Jewish lady tighter and more tightly still were pressed the demon's fingers until his long nails entered her soft and palpitating flesh. Oh, it was horrible, horrible this scene of ruthless murder in that subterranean dungeon. At length the movements of the victim became mere convulsive spasms, but her large dark eyes now unnaturally brilliant glared up at old death, fixedly and appallingly, nevertheless he was not terrified, he was not stricken with remorse, no still, still he clung to his victim his own eyes looking down ferociously into hers and the workings of his countenance displaying a fiend-like triumph, a savage glory in the awful deed which he was perpetrating. Nearly five minutes had elapsed from the instant when the murderer first rang upon the unfortunate Jewish and now suddenly starting to his feet he seized the lamp and dashed it upon her head, a lone moan escaped her and all was silent. Yes, all was silent and all was darkness too, for the light had been extinguished and old death precipitated himself from the dungeon. He hurried along the subterranean which he knew so well, hurried along towards the spiral staircase wondering whether he should be enabled to effect his escape yet almost reckless and desperate as to what might become of him now that his savage vengeance was accomplished. He ascended the stone steps, he entered the room which had for years and years served him as a bed-chamber before he had been compelled to dispose of the house to Lord Ellingen. He passed into the laboratory and as yet he had proceeded without interruption. Joy, joy, he should escape yet, the adjoining room now fitted up as a handsome parlor was likewise untenanted at the moment. Joy, joy, he is descending the staircase leading to the hall. Is it possible that he will escape? Fortune seems to favor the diabolical murderer and his hand is now upon the latch of the front door. He stands as it were once more upon the threshold of that great world which is so wide and has so many channels for the machinations of the wicked. The house seems deserted, not a questioning voice falls upon his ear, not the step of a human foot, save his own, interrupts the silence of the place. As it appears as if escape be now a certainty, escape for him who dared not hope for it and did not even think of it when intent on the all-absorbing scheme of his vengeance. And now the front door opens to his touch, but ah, he is blood upon his hands, the blood that had flowed from the neck of the murdered Jewess. He starts back, he hesitates for a moment, but only for a moment, old death is not the man to remain long uncertain how to proceed in such a strait. Thrusting his hands, his gore stained hands into his pockets, the demon-hearted monster issues as coolly and calmly from the house as if it were his own, and he had nothing to fear. The fresh air of heaven untasted by him for ten long weeks comes gushing upon his face. He is free, he is free, ah, is the hasty ejaculation which now falls on his ear. He looks around, a man is bounding, flying towards him, and in another instant he is in the grasp of the Blackamore. A short and desperate struggle takes place and a crowd immediately gathers near for it. The sessions are being held at Hicks's Hall on Clarkinwell Green so that the neighborhood presents the bustling appearance usual on such occasions. Sees him, hold him, yells forth, old death as his powerful opponent hurls him towards the house door, which the miscreant had not closed behind him. He is a madman, escaped from a lunatic asylum, exclaimed the Blackamore, horrible apprehensions filling his soul relative to the Jewels for his eyes caught sight of the blood upon old death's hands. No, no, I am not a madman, shrieked out the latter. Sees him, hold him, I say. He has escaped the scaffold, he is Tom Rain, the highwayman. At that dreadful announcement, the Blackamore was struck speechless and motionless as if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, and in the next instant he was in the grasp of Dykes and Bingham, who, having business at the session's house, happened to be amongst the crowd gathered at the entrance of Red Lion Street. Yes, Sees him, hold him tight, yells Benjamin Bones. He is Tom Rain. I tell you, his face is colored purposely, but I knew that he is Tom Rain. And hold that miscreant also, ejaculated Rainford, for he indeed the Blackamore was. Sees him, let him not escape. The crowd, recovering the power of speech, as his eyes again caught a glimpse of the bloodstained hands of old death, there has been murder committed in this house. My God, my God. The crowd had now not only increased to such an extent as to render the way perfectly impossible, but a tremendous sensation suddenly seized upon the assemblage. The news that Tom Rain, the celebrated highwayman, had escaped death by some miraculous means and was once more in custody circulating like wildfire. Dykes and Bingham, knowing that in such a case the sympathies of the mod were most likely to turn in favor of the prisoner, hurried him and old death into the house. Whether they were followed by three or four other constables and the door was immediately closed in the face of the crowd and secured within. Unreaching the sitting room, the first floor, the party halted and old death now completely overcome by the excitement of the incidents which had so rapidly succeeded each other in a short half hour through himself exhausted into a chair. Well, Mr. Rainford said, Dykes, with something like a malicious grin, I'm sorry for this business, but how, in the name of all that's wonderful, did you escape after being so doosed well hung as I see you was with my own eyes? Silence ejaculated Rainford in an imperious tone and come with me at once down below for as sure as you are there, murder, a horrible murder has been committed by that wretch pointing to old death who now quivered beneath his furious looks. If you doubt it, behold the blood upon his hands added Tom Rain with a cold shutter. Bring him along with us being him said Dykes, addressing his brother officer. No, no, I won't go down there again yell forth the murderer, his countenance becoming convulsed with horror for he was now afraid of his crime in the revulsion of his feelings. Stay here in custody observed Dykes and me and a couple of the runners will go with Mr. Rainford. The officer and the two murmur downs whom you had selected accordingly proceeded with Tom Rain into the room where the trap door of the spiral staircase had been left open by old death and the constable surveyed each other with mingled apprehension and astonishment. You were not afraid exclaimed Rainford in a contemptuous tone as he lighted the lamp. Then with impatient excitement he cried do your duty and come with me life may still be left in her come come. Yes, yes, we shall go along with you sure enough growl Dykes as he led the way, followed by Rainford, the two runners closing the rear. In three minutes more the little party entered the dungeon, which has so lately been the prison house of old death, and there what a dreadful spectacle met their eyes. The murdered lady was stretched upon the floor her countenance horribly discolored and swollen. The floor had completely smashed by the blow inflicted by the lamp which have been dashed at her and her eyes staring with a stony glare as if about to start out of their sockets. Oh Tamar, Tamar my dearest, best beloved Tamar cried Tom Rain in a tone of bitter bitter anguish as he threw himself upon his knees by the side of the corpse. The officers, rude in heart and rendered obdurate as they were by the very nature of their profession stood back in respectful silence at this outburst of sorrow from the lips of their resuscitated highwaymen. My God, murmured the unhappy man, clasping his hands together, who shall break these fearful tidings to your father and your sister? And will they not reproach me? Will they not attribute this rightful calamity to that project of reformation which I devised on behalf of Benjamin Bones? Oh Tamar, my dearest Tamar, who could have foreseen that such a terrible destiny was in store for thee. Embarking down his head he wett bitterly, suddenly loud voices were heard from the top of the spiral staircase, summoning Dyke's dither. Come along sir, it is useless to remain here, cried the officer, speaking hastily but respectfully to Tom Rain who suffered himself to be led away, or rather he did not offer any resistance to those who conducted him thence. Well what now demanded Dyke's hurrying up the steps that the head of which his friend Bingham was continuing to shout after him. Why don't you know, was replied that government has offered a reward for the discovery of the chap what carried off Sir Christopher Blunt and Dr. LaCelle's about that there, Torrance's affair. Well what then, cried Dyke's impatiently, blowed if it ain't Tom Rain respond to Bingham, he did it, and we've nabbed him, so that's a cool 250 apiece. By goals ejaculated Dyke's countenance expanding into the most glorious humor possible, as if all remembrance of the horrible scene he had just witnessed were banished from his mind. This is good news though he added as he emerged from the staircase into the little back room with which it communicated, but how do you know that the chap has kidnapped the knight and the doctor is Mr. Rainford. Because I've been talking with old Ben Bones answer Bingham and he told me as how he'd been kidnapped too and kept a prisoner down there for a matter of 10 weeks and how there was a lot on him. And Josh Peddler and Tim spent among the rest so when he mentioned them names I pricked up my ears and I asked him a question or two and I find that they was all kidnapped just at the time that the Torrance affair was a making such a noise so it's a clear case. Clear enough to be sure exclaimed Dyke's Ben Bones doesn't seem to know anything about that affair, continued Dyke's because why he was lugged off and took down in that their place before the business was made public by Sir Christopher and the doctor, but I say what has happened below. A young woman killed that's all answered Dyke so here's a pretty dazed business for us Bingham, a man that had been hung took up bust, then a murder discovered and that murder in our power and now there's here a fair about the government reward. Well we've been rather slack lately and a little occupation is quite a blessing. Thus conversing together Mr. Dyke's and Mr. Bingham returned to the apartment where old death was still sitting in a chair watched by a couple of constables. But the moment Rainford who had only a confused idea of what was passing around him was led him to that room he started back in horror exclaiming no no I cannot bear to be in the company of this dreadful man. Old death to whom he pointed grinned in savage triumph but Rainford had already rushed back into the laboratory attended by Dyke's and two runners. Almost at the same instant the lad Caesar who had heard from the crowd outside enough to convince him that Rainford had been discovered and also that a person answering the description of old death had first announced the resuscitated highwayman and had then himself been arrested on a charge of murder. So we say now made his appearance and through himself at his master's feet exclaiming wildly oh no my generous friend my more than father they shall not take you from us. Jacob said Tom Rain raising the distracted youth who was no other than the readers former acquaintance Jacob Smith do not yield to grief we have need of all our courage on this occasion. I've received a frightful blow wounded I am in the tenderness point. Oh I can scarcely restrain my anguish while conjuring you to be calm. And yet it is necessary to meet my afflictions face to face hasten then to potentially and break the sad intelligence to Mr. Medina and Esther tell them Jacob as gently as you can tell them that Benjamin bones has crowned all his enormities by. My God it is then to true ejaculated the youth covering his face with his hands. Yes. Tamar is no more added rain for tears gushing from his eyes. My poor wife has been brutally foully murdered by that miscreant. Jacob Smith hurried away his own heart feeling as if it were about to break and now said Tom Rain suddenly turning towards Dykes. I appeal to you as men to allow me to superintend the removal of the remains of that lady who was my wife to a chamber in this house. And then that duty being performed I shall be ready to accompany you with her so ever you may choose to conduct me. We're not particular for an hour or so Mr. Rainford returned Dykes indeed it would be better to let the crowd disperse a little and if so be you don't mind staying here a bit we'll wait till dark. It is long now you see. I should have wished to remain here until the relatives of the deceased lady had time to arrive and take charge of the body interrupted Tom Rain but I dare not ask that your favor at your hands as it is however I thank you. But you must likewise let old Ben bones stay here until after dusk at least urged Dykes for if it was no to the people outside that it was the ancient fence who killed a woman. They'd be after tearing him to pieces so we must smuggle him out presently. Rainford gave his consent to the proposition he was too sick at heart to profoundly overwhelm by misfortune to attempt to argue any question that might arise from the lamentable incidents of that evening. End of Section 5. Section 6 of Mysteries of London, Volume 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Brian Keenan. Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds. Thomas Rainford. The arrest of Tom Rain and Old Death took place at about twenty minutes to six on the evening in question. By ten o'clock that night the news were circulated throughout every quarter of the metropolis. The incidents involved in the double-arrest station were well adapted to produce as much excitement as the extraordinary adventures of Sir Christopher Blunt and Dr. Lacell ten weeks previously. In the first place a man who had been publicly executed at Horsemonger Lane was now discovered to be alive, having been doubtless resuscitated in some extraordinary way. Although the more credulous and wonder-loving portion of the community were firmly convinced that Tom Rain had never been hanged at all, but that the body of some prisoner, recently deceased at the time, was ushered through the dreadful ordeal instead of the formidable highwayman. In the second place this said Thomas Rainford was said to be the mysterious personage who, usurping the attributes of justice, had kidnapped Dr. Lacell and Sir Christopher Blunt, and had somehow or another disposed of the real murderers of Sir Henry Cordenay after having devised the necessary means to prove and make public the innocence of Mr. Torrens. In the third place a notorious fence named Benjamin Bones, who had defied the police and the laws for many, many years, had at last fatally entangled himself with justice by committing a diabolical murder upon the person of Thomas Rainford's wife. And in the fourth place it had been discovered that there were situate two houses in the very heart of London having a subterranean passage connecting them, and this subterranean communicating with several dark and gloomy dungeons, decently furnished, and in which half a dozen prisoners had recently been confined. One of these prisoners was now known to be Benjamin Bones, but what had become of the other five? Such were the circumstances which took the whole town by storm and produced a tremendous sensation from one end of London to the other, the intelligence reaching even Lady Hatfield, retired and secluded, as was her mode of living. Shortly after ten o'clock on that eventful evening a private carriage drove up to the house in Red Lion Street, and Mr. Demedina, Esther and Lord Ellingham, alighted. Jacob Smith leapt down from the box, and in a few moments the entire party entered the dwelling, thus disappearing from the gaze of the assembled crowd. The Jew, his daughter, and the young nobleman were immediately conducted by one of Rainford's dependents into the apartment where the unhappy husband of the murdered Tamar was pacing up and down, Dykes sitting in a corner watching his movements. The prisoner was no longer disguised. During the interval which had elapsed since his arrest he had, by the officer's express desire, washed off the black dye from his face and hands, and he now wore his natural aspect in one sense, though in another his expressive countenance was altered by the despair that filled his soul. Oh, Thomas! What terrible afflictions have occurred! exclaimed Lord Ellingham, as he flew into his half-brother's arms. You will not reproach me, Arthur. Oh, do not augment my grief! cried Rainford, and he wept bitter tears. No one will reproach you, excellent young man, said Mr. D. Medina, taking the hand of his bereaved son-in-law. But, oh, my daughter, my daughter, Tamar, great God, thou hast chosen to afflict me deeply, deeply! In the meantime Esther D. Medina had thrown herself into a chair, giving way to the wildest paroxysms of grief, the earl of Ellingham having vainly accosted her with the hope of importing some slight consolation. But, alas, he himself was a prey to the most poignant anguish, and, even had he been more calm, how was it possible to comfort Esther D. Medina for the loss, the cruel assassination of that sister whom she loved so tenderly and so well? Thomas, at length, said the earl, approaching his half-brother. Has Jacob Smith told us the dreadful tale correctly? And is it he, Benjamin Bones, who has done this? My God, I have scarcely been able to comprehend all the terrible particulars. It is true. It is too true. I know that it is, exclaimed Mr. D. Medina, shaking his head in despair. Yes, Tamar is no more. But, at least, let me behold her remains. Rainford turned an appealing glance towards Dykes, as much as to say, you surely will allow me to proceed unwatched and unguarded, along with these mourners to the chamber where the corpse lies? But Dykes, who understood the meaning of that glance, said in a respectful, though firm tone, I dare not trust you out of my sight. I will be answerable for him, officer, cried the earl, availing him. Do you know me? I know who you are, my Lord, answered Dykes, but I cannot oblige you. Is not grief such as that which you now contemplate? said the nobleman, indicating the weeping father and sister of the deceased lady. Is not such grief as this too solemn for the intrusion of a stranger? Since your lordship forces me to speak plain, returned Dykes, Mr. Rainford is my prisoner on two charges. On two charges? ejaculated the earl. Then, remembering all that his brother had passed through, he said mournfully, But just heavens, one is enough. As your lordship observes, began Dykes, one is, at that moment, another private carriage rattled up to the door of the house, and a lady, alighting with feverish impatience, was instantaneously admitted into the dwelling. In less than a minute she was ushered by Jacob Smith into the room where the morning party were assembled. Lady Hatfield cried Tom Rain, the moment she raised her veil. And, as if her presence were another blow on such an occasion, he staggered and would have fallen had not the earl of Ellingham caught him in his arms. Part in this intrusion, said Georgiana, advancing into the middle of the apartment, and believed me when I assure you that nothing saved the hope of being in some degree able to lighten the afflictions which pour upon you all. Nothing, she added emphatically, but such a hope as this would have induced me to break upon your privacy. The dreadful rumors current in the metropolis reached me ear now, and I flew hither only, alas, to hear them confirmed. But, Mr. Rainford, she stopped short, trembled, and seemed for an instant overcome by feelings of an unutterable nature. The bitterness, the intensity of grief which oppressed the others, was in some degree absorbed for the moment by the profound interest which the presence of Lady Hatfield excited. Her words, having given promise of hopes that nature were of, defied all conjecture. But suspense on the part of her listeners was not destined to last long. Mr. Rainford, she resumed, exercising a powerful control over her emotions. You have sustained an affliction so great that it is almost impossible to impart consolation to you. Yet, even in the midst of such woe is this which has overtaken you, it may at least be a satisfaction to learn that the judgments of a criminal tribunal no longer hangs over you, that the past is indeed the past and cannot be revived. Georgiana cried the ear of Ellingham, surveying her in profound astonishment. What mean you? I mean that Thomas Rainford is pardoned, exclaimed Lady Hatfield. I mean, she continued, the wildest astonishment having sealed the lips of all who heard her. I mean that the sentence passed upon him months ago is dissolved, annihilated, and here is the royal decree, bearing the sovereign's seal, and countersigned by the Secretary of the Home Department, to his a full pardon for Thomas Rainford. Thus speaking, she handed Lord Ellingham a paper. But it fell from his hands, for his half-brother had sunk senseless upon the floor. Water was speedily procured, and all the usual means adopted to restore him. It was, however, some time if he gave signs of life, and then, beckoning Georgiana towards him, he said in a faint tone, May the great God above us bless you, for you are an angel. It was undoubtedly an immense alleviation of the general sorrow to learn that Rainford had received a full pardon for all those offenses which had drawn down on his head the sentence of death pronounced at the Old Bailey. And the Earl of Ellingham, having now hastily glanced over the paper which decreed this act of royal mercy, submitted it to the examination of Mr. Dykes. Well, my lord, said that officer, I see and hear plain enough that one of the charges on which I held Mr. Rainford prisoner is knocked on the head. And I'm glad of it, especially as tis the most serious of the two. But I must still keep him in custody, he being the man who kidnapped Sir Christopher Blunt and Dr. Lacell. Wait, one moment exclaimed Rainford, a sudden thought flashing to his mind and restoring him to the wanted energies of his character. While all present watched his movements with breathless interest, he hastened to a writing desk, standing on a table in a recess. And thence he took a pocket-book, which he opened, and the contents of which he scanned rapidly as he turned over the various papers one after the other. Here it is, he cried triumphantly at last, and, drawing forth a slip of paper, he handed it to Lord Ellingham, who mechanically read it aloud. We acknowledge a sense of deep obligation to the bearer of this memorandum, the said bearer having rendered us special service, and we hold ourselves bound to grant him any boon which he may demand at our hands, so that it be not inconsistent with our royal honor, nor prejudicial to the interests of the state. Given this 3rd of March in the year 1827, George Rex L.S. You are saved, Thomas. You are saved in all respects, exclaimed Mr. Di Medina, pressing with affectionate warmth the hand of his son-in-law, while tears trickle down the old man's venerable countenance. All this is so truly astonishing, cried the Earl of Ellingham, that I am bewildered. How you, my excellent friend, my sister, he added, turning towards Lady Hatfield, obtained the royal pardon for Thomas Rainford, I well know. Indeed, I have all along known. You ejaculated Georgiana in profound astonishment. Yes, I overheard your interview with the King in the blue velvet closet at Carlton House, continued the Earl, and now I comprehend all the greatness and generosity of your conduct. Oh, and you must pardon me, too, for having become a listener on that occasion, and for having ever since entertained suspicions most injurious to your honor. The remainder of the tale can then be told by myself, said Tom Rain hastily. For it was I, I the Blackamour, the Negro, who saved your ladyship from insult and outrage, also at Carlton House. But, he continued, glancing in a significant manner towards Dykes, all these explanations shall be for another and more convenient opportunity. In the meantime, Arthur, he added, it is for you to repair at once to the Home Secretary, and obtain from him all we require to ensure my complete freedom, by virtue of that acknowledgement bearing the sign manual of the King. The Earl of Ellingham instantaneously undertook this commission, although at so late an hour. But he fortunately happened to be aware that the Secretary for the Home Department had a reception that evening, and was therefore certain to be at home. Dykes, who had been led on from one source of astonishment to another, and who perceived that Thomas Rainford not only possessed powerful friends, but likewise the patronage and favor of the King himself. The worthy Mr. Dykes, we say, now volunteered to withdraw into another room, merely requesting his prisoner to pledge his honor not to leave the house, until the Order of the Secretary of State should fully and completely release him from custody. The promise was given forthwith, and Dykes repaired to the apartment where old death was still remaining in the custody of Bingham and the other constables. Immediately after the officer had retired, Georgiana rose to take her departure. This was the first time that she had ever seen the Medinas, but she accosted them with the affability of a well-bred lady, and proffered them her deepest and sincerest sympathy on account of the dreadful loss which they had sustained. They received these proofs of friendship in a manner which denoted the gratitude of their hearts, and Georgiana, on taking leave, shook them cordially by the hand. Then, extending her hand likewise to him whose mere name at hitherto been sufficient to send a cold shudder through her entire form, yes, extending her hand to him also in the true spirit of Christian forgiveness, but without raising her eyes to his countenance, she said, Mr. Rainford, may you yet know many years of happiness. He pressed her hand with grateful fervor, and a tear dropped upon it, but he could not utter a word. His heart was too full to allow him to express his thanks. His admiration of the noble conduct of that woman whom, in a moment of delirium as it were, he had outraged and ruined. Ah, bitter! Bitter were thy reminiscences, as thus thou didst stand before thy generous benefactress, Tom Rain. Mr. D. Medina, perceiving that his son-in-law was overcome by emotions which were not altogether intelligible to him, offered his arm to escort Lady Hatfield to her carriage, and Georgiana drove home with a heart rejoicing at the good she had done, for Lord Ellingham's sake. The Jew returned to the apartment where he had left Esther and Rainford, and there they all three mingled their grief together for the loss of the lovely and much-loved Tamar. But over this scene we shall draw a veil. Sorrow, such as they experienced, cannot be adequately described. Neither shall we do more than allude to the violence of the grief and the poignancy of the anguish which were felt when they repaired to the chamber to which the remains of the murdered Tamar had been conveyed. The reader does not require to be informed that this was a ceremony of the most painful description. While therefore Mr. D. Medina, Esther, and Rainford are mingling their tears and lamentations, while too the Earl of Ellingham is absent on his mission to the home secretary, armed with the document which bore the autograph and seal of George IV, we shall request our reader to accompany us to the apartment where old death remains in the custody of Bingham and the subordinate officials. End of Section 6. Recording by Brian Keenan. Section 7 of Mysteries of London, Volume 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Brian Keenan. Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds. Old Death. When Dykes made his appearance in the room just alluded to, he found Benjamin Bones rocking himself to and fro on the chair in which he was seated. While Bingham and the runners were partaking of refreshments at the table. The old miscreant was horribly pale and there was a wild glaring of the eyes which enhanced the ghastly expression of his countenance. The man was in fact hideous to behold. Now that he had leisure for reflection and that the excitement attending the perpetration of his bloody vengeance had passed away, he had become fearfully alive to the awful predicament in which he stood. Nevertheless his entire aspect denoted dogged obduracy. And could he have recalled the past, it is more than probable that he would have played precisely the same part over again. Well, Mr. Dykes, said Bingham, as the worthy thus addressed entered the room. Will you join us here in a bit of grub? You see, we're pitching into the cold jint like bricks and the beer is frustrate. So as the pickles growled one of the runners who was naturally of a surly disposition and could not help speaking in a grunting tone even when best pleased. Come, sit down with us, urged Mr. Bingham. But I say, though, what have you done with Tom Rain? Done with him, indeed, exclaimed Mr. Dykes, swelling with the importance of a man who had astounding news to communicate. What hasn't he done for himself, you mean? Has he cut his throat or taken poison, demanded old death eagerly? Not he, cried Dykes. Why, you cursed old fence, you've always got wicked notions in your head, you have? Mr. Rainford is a gentleman, every inch of him, and I always note it. He's got a power of slap-up friends as won't leave him long in the lurch, I can tell you. And the officer bestowed a significant wink upon his listeners, whose curiosity he had now worked up to the highest pitch. What, what has he done, gasped old death, terribly excited with suspense? Do you mean to say, that is, has he escaped, he demanded, scarcely able to give utterance to the word? So fearful was he, lest Tom Rain, against whom he cherished a fiend like hatred, should not again figure upon the scaffold. Patience, patience, said Mr. Dykes, taking a chair. In the first place you must know that in comes a lady, and who should she be but that very same lady Hatfield, as I'm sure Tom Rain robbed some months ago near Hounslow, although I couldn't bring the thing home to him at the time. Well, well, muttered old death, the agony of whose suspense was perfectly excruciating. But first I should tell you, presumed Mr. Dykes, that Miss D. Medina comes in with her father, and Laura telling him. Old death gave vent to a savage growl. And now I understand all about that diamond affair being, you know, continued the officer. For, although one of the sisters is a corpse and her face is disfigured, I never in my life see such a likeness as there is between them. We should observe that old death had already learnt from the communications which had been made in his presence by the runners who were first in charge of Tom Rain on this eventful evening, that it was not Esther D. Medina whom he had slain, but Tamar, the wife of the man whom he considered to be his most mortal enemy. But as I was saying, continued Dykes, in comes Lady Hatfield, and behold ye, she makes a regular set speech to prepare us all for what's about to take place. And then she tells us plump that Tom Rain has received his Majesty's free pardon. No, no, yelled forth old death. It's a lie, it's a lie. Hold your tongue, you cursed fence, exclaimed Mr. Dykes. Deeply indignant at having his word, thus unceremoniously called in question, Lady Hatfield had the paper with her, all regular according to the status in that case made and provided. It's a forgery, a rank forgery, shrieked Benjamin Bones, his countenance becoming truly appalling with its hideous workings. And you have let him go upon that pretense. You, you have. And he fell back in his chair, looking for breath. What an in-wettered old scoundrel it is, observed Bingham. Here, give him a glass of beer, Bill, for by Gauls he'll suffocate. The scaffold will be cheated of its dues after all. The runner, to whom the command was addressed, approached old death and offered him a tumbler of porter. But the savage monster repulsed it brutally, ferocious growls escaping from his breast. Well, leave him alone, then, the runner accordingly resumed his seat and his attack upon the cold vions at the same time. I tell you what it is, Mr. Ben Bones, exclaimed Dykes. I've seen him any free pardons, especially where a gentleman that got into trouble was concerned, for it seldom that a poor devil has interest enough to get such a thing. And I know precious well that the one I see just now was as regular as possible. It had the king's own name, Michael, they call it, and his precious big seal and the home secretary's signature underneath. He will escape, he will escape yet, yelled forth old death, clasping his hands together as if in mortal agony. The wretch, he will escape the gibbet, he, he, and again he gasped in so frightful a manner that his eyes seemed to be starting from his head and his attenuated frame literally writhed in convulsive exclaimed after a long pause during which his shocking appearance had produced a dead silence of horror and amazement. I have thought of something, and he grinned malignantly. Did you not say that men had been spirited away in that tauren's affair? To be sure I did, answered Bingham, to whom the question was addressed, and Tom Rain did it. Well, what about that, Mr. Dykes? That we shall get the reward because we did our duty in arresting him, and if so be that the home secretary chooses to grant him a pardon in that respect also. He won't. He won't, ejaculated old death with feverish, nay with hysterical excitement. He does not dare do it. No, no. Tom Rain must swing for that at all events. Tis as good as being accessory will swing for that. I'm blessed if he will, though, said Dykes bluntly, for it seems that he's got a paper signed by the king which will put him all to rights. And though I don't exactly understand that part of the business, I'm pretty sure Tom Rain is in no danger. Lord Ellingham has got the matter in hand, and he has gone up to the home office. That's why I left Mr. Dykes. He'll run away, he'll escape, cried old death. You are mad to trust him. Go, seize on him again, put handcuffs. Yes, on you in no time, if you don't hold your tongue, interrupted Mr. Dykes. But ain't all this a rummy business, though, he demanded, turning towards Bingham and the subordinate officials. The old Jew seems a most happy, the Earl's going to marry her, I'll swear to it. Mr. Dykes, Mr. Dykes, whispered old death in his ear, and the officer, turning suddenly round again, perceived that the tall, gaunt form of the fence was close behind him. Well, what do you want? demanded the functionary. One word. One word only, murmured bones, in a low, guttural, sepulchral tone, while now, then, what is it? asked Dykes, suffering the old man to draw him towards the recess, containing the door which opened into the laboratory. I must speak to you in private. I have something particular to tell you, was the urgent and impatient reply. Come into this room. I shan't keep you a moment. Well, I suppose I must humor you, said the officer in a surly tone. With this brutal jest, brutal, even in respect to so awful a miscreant as old death, the Bow Street Functionary conducted him into the laboratory, where a light happened to be burning, and the door of which apartment Benjamin Bones closed cautiously behind them. Now, then, make haste and tell us all you have got to say, said Dykes, eyeing the old man suspiciously, and in great proof, abortive. Mr. Dykes, you are a good man and a kind man. I know you are, began old death in a coaxing tone, and with a manner indicating the most dreadful state of nervous excitement. You would not like to see a poor, miserable old creature like myself sent to the scaffold. No, no, you would not. You would not. I will give you all I have. Yes, all I have, several thousand pounds, for I have got several thousands, he added, with a ghastly grin. But no one knows where they are except myself. You and I can go together to the place, and I will give you every guinea. Yes, every guinea, Mr. Dykes. Remember, every guinea I say, if you will agree to this. Agree to what? My good kind friend, exclaimed Benjamin Bones, becoming more coaxing in his tone, which was as low and subdued as his sepulchral voice would admit. Do consider for an instant, an old man like me to be in such trouble. You would not be happy if you had it on your mind that you had been the means, the actual means of sending such a wretched creature as myself to the scaffold? In good gold guineas, if, if, if what, asked the officer, with the most provoking determination not to understand anything that was not explained in unmistakable words. If you, you will let me escape, whispered old death, while his eyes seemed to penetrate to the very soul of the man towards whom he bent in a confidential way, as he spoke. Now that's English, said Dykes, whose countenance gave not the opportunity to leave the proposition. And, and you will agree, won't you? asked Bones. Remember, five thousand guineas, all to be paid in one lump this very night. Well now, it can't be done whole chap, interrupted Dykes, in a cool, almost brutal manner, as if you were glad of the opportunity to encourage hope for a time, merely for the sake of destroying it with a rude hand and in an abrupt gazing upon him. It can't be done, you say, and his eyes glanced wildly around. Is this all you have to tell me, demanded the officer, because, if so, five thousand guineas, and he refuses it, ejaculated Bones. My God, what will become of me? What will become of me? And still his looks wandered rapidly about the apartment. Now then, let us go back into the next room, if you wish, and stay here wasting our time. At that instant, old Death's eyes settled upon something on a shelf close at hand, and suddenly, springing aside, he seized upon a bottle, the particular object for which he had been searching with his eager glances. Dykes, without even having a moment's leisure to make a single conjecture relative to his intentions, but instinctively foreseeing that something of lightning did Benjamin Bones raise the bottle which his right hand grasped, and in less than the twinkling of an eye would it have been smashed down upon the officer, who, seeing his danger, by a natural impulse held down his head, when a yell of agony burst from the lips of the old miscreant. For, as he raised the bottle, the glass stopper fell out, and the burning vitriol streamed down on his head and over his countenance, a few drops only on his clothes. The officer instantaneously fell back. An old death threw himself on the floor, where he rolled in horrid agonies, writhing like a stricken snake, and shrieking frantically, oh, my eyes, my eyes! Bingham and the subordinate functionaries rushed in from the adjoining apartment, and having assured themselves that Dykes was unhurt, although his escape from the burning fluid was truly miraculous. They turned away from him. One of them obtained water and dashed it over him, but still he rolled and writhed, uttering dreadful cries, mingled with horrid implications, and rubbing his face madly with his hands, for the miserable wretch was burnt in an appalling manner, and his sight was gone. We must pause for a single moment to explain his design, that design which so signally failed and brought to bribe Mr. Dykes was frustrated. He thought of the only alternative that could possibly be attempted, and escape. At the same instant that this last idea was formed, it flashed to his mind that Dr. LaCelle had been accustomed to keep many deadly poisons and ardent fluids in the laboratory. His eyes wandered round in search of them, and they lighted upon a large bottle labeled vitriol. To break it over the officer's head, and escape in the confusion of the little chamber which had once been his bedroom, and which, as the reader may recollect, had two doors, one opening from the laboratory and the other into apartments beyond. This was the hastily conceived but discomfited design of old death. The desperate project had failed, and in a desperate manner, too, for the miscreant had received mortal injuries, and his sufferings were horrible. A pint of vitriol had streamed beneath his clothes, all down his neck and chest, burning him horribly, even to his very eyes and their sockets. Rainford, alarmed by the hideous yells which had reached him in another part of the spacious house, rushed into the laboratory to ascertain the cause, having begged Mr. D. Medina and Esther to await his return. At the same instant that he entered by one door, Jacob Smith made his hastily explained what had occurred. Rainford accordingly issued immediate orders to transport the dying man to a bedchamber. Unfortunately, at this crisis, Dr. LaCelle arrived at the house. The physician had been alarmed by the rumours which prevailed relative to the incidents that had occurred in Red Lion Street. But a few words, rapidly exchanged with Tom Rain, relieved the doctor of all apprehensions on account of death. But though the laboratory promptly supplied all the remedies needed in such a case, their application was vain. They gave relief it is true, but they could not arrest the rapid advances which death was making upon the wretched old man. Jacob, cried the doctor, Jacob Smith, I say, he repeated more impatiently, the lad not having heard his first summons, hand me that bottle of water, his moaning suddenly ceasing at the mention of that name. Is he here? Then let me tell him, my God, this burning sensation. Jacob, my poor boy. Oh, my eyes, my eyes. Doctor, do something to my eyes. They are like red hot coals in my head. Jacob, I... I am your father. My father almost freaked the lad in the wildness of his tidings. Then, falling on his knees by the bedside, he exclaimed, oh, if you are indeed my parent. I am. I am, Jacob, exclaimed the dying wretch. But these tortures. Why do they tear my flesh with pincers? Why do they put hot skewers into my eyes? Doctor, doctor, take away the red hot iron. Lift me out of the fire. Take me away, I say, save me. Save me. I am in flames. My eyes are burning. My God, I am burning. Father, father, cried Jacob in a tone of agonizing appeal. Compose yourself. Think of all your sins. Repent. Will no one snatch me from the fire? yelled forth old death, writhing and tossing upon the bed in mortal pains. Perdition sees ye, wretches. I am burning. I am in flames. My eyes scorch me. I am seared over with red hot irons. Oh, it is hell. It is hell. Yes, I am in hell. My God, this is my punishment. Oh, send me back to the world again. Let me retrieve the past. Let me live my existence once more. I will be good. I will not sin. No. No. For hell is terribly, terrible and these fires. Oh, horror, horror. Snakes of flame have seized their gnawing at my heart. They have thrust their fiery stings into my eyes. They wind themselves round and round me. Horror. Horror. There, I feel them now. Oh, mercy. Mercy. Mercy. This is frightful, whispered Tom Rain to Dr. LaCelle and all the others present at the dreadful scene, shuttered from head to foot. Jacob Smith buried his face on the ground. The dying man still continued to rave and shriek and yell for a short time longer. But his powers of articulation rapidly failed. His writhings grew less violent until they ceased altogether. And in a few minutes the dark spirit which had never spared and never pitied human creature fled forever. End of section 7, recording by Brian Keenan. Mysteries of London, Volume 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Brian Keenan. Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds. An explanatory conversation. Three days had elapsed since that eventful evening on which so many exciting events took place, and the scene now changes to the dwelling of Dr. Lacell in Grafton Street. It was about four in the afternoon and the physician was seated in his study, Lord Ellingham being his companion at the time. At length, my dear doctor, said the nobleman, you have found leisure to accord me an hour to give me those explanations which my afflicted brother feels himself in a mortal blow to his generous heart. But the kindness of Mr. D. Medina and Esther, who insisted upon having him with them at Finchley, must in some degree mitigate his grief. And yet, alas, that bereaved father and mourning sister have themselves such a bitter need of solace. Just heaven, it was a frightful catastrophe. And the murderer perished in a frightful manner, by all the other circumstances which old death's crime was the means of bringing to light, has somewhat subsided, not only in respect to the public, but likewise with regard to the minds of those persons privately interested in the whole affair, we may venture to converse upon the topic in the hope of approaching it with some degree of calmness. In the first place, my dear Arthur, tell me how you fared with the home secretary. His official residence said the earl. On the dreadful night in question I sent up my card with the message soliciting an immediate and private audience, and the favour was instantaneously granted. In as succinct a manner as possible I explained to the minister all that it was necessary to communicate. I told him that Thomas Rainford, who had been doomed to death and had no explanation, I preferred no explanation, and none was demanded of me. The minister instantly recollected the circumstance of having signed a full and complete pardon on behalf of Rainford, some weeks ago, and at the intercession of the king. And, doubtless knowing well the wayward character of George IV, he perhaps thought that the less he inquired into the business the better. I then gave him as much as I could, and when the minister heard that he was the individual who had played so mysterious a part in the affair of Torrens, his brow lowered. But I immediately showed him the document signed by George IV, and I gave him to understand that Rainford was acquainted with such proofs of the king's profligacy and unprincipled character, as would positively compromise the safety of the throne if they were published. This species of threat I was inclined to permit matters to take their course without any interference on his part. But when he heard that the king had given that solemn acknowledgement of obligation in order to hush up some affair of which he was ashamed, and likewise seriously alarmed, the minister intimated his readiness to do anything I required to avoid a scandal that might compromise his royal master. He nevertheless urged that an individual of the provinces by that sudden discovery that Thomas Rainford had not only escaped the scaffold, but had actually taken upon himself the functions of a judge in disposing of the murderers of Sir Henry Courtney, according to his own caprice and will. In fact, said the minister, the public will imagine that Rainford himself was an accomplice in the assassination of the baronet. Thus I could only reply that I was well assured of Rainford's complete innocence in respect to the murder of Sir Henry Courtney, that he had adopted certain opinions relative to the reformation of criminals and had chosen to test his system by applying it to those men, that the men were no longer in the country, but whether they had been sent I knew full well Rainford would never divulge to the government, and that the man in the case, or whether he would have his royal master seriously compromised. I can assure you, my dear doctor, that it gave me great pain and was most repugnant to my feelings to be compelled to hold out any menace of this kind, but could I leave a stone unturned that would serve the interest of my generous half-brother? You all ready to some extent know the motives which induced Rainford to return to England instead of proceeding to America with his old death's gang? said the physician inquiringly. I gathered a few rapid and broken details from the Medinas during the ride from Finchley to Red Lion Street on that fatal evening when Jacob Smith came to the manor, where I happened to be at the time, to announce the awful event which had occurred, replied the Earl. But you may readily believe that both Mr. D. Medina and the other nations. Moreover, I was myself so terribly excited and so full of serious apprehensions. I understand, it was quite natural, interrupted the doctor, but pray proceed with your narrative of the interview with the Secretary of State. I have little more to say upon that subject, observed Lord Ellingham. The minister balanced for some minutes between the alternatives which I submitted to him, and it was evident that he had a royal indiscretions. Indiscretions which had led the king to sign two important papers, both seriously affecting the proper and legitimate course of justice. But in the end he yielded to the alternative which was favorable to our wishes. And, placing himself at his desk, he wrote the order to set Thomas Rainford free, which I delivered to the Bow Street officers on my return to Red Lion Street shortly after he'd be entertained on that head, inquired the physician. None answered the earl of Ellingham. The coroner's inquest, which sat upon the bodies of Tamar and Benjamin Bones yesterday, elicited, as you are well aware, the fact that the old man had been imprisoned by Rainford, and visited first by Esther, and on the last and fatal occasion by her unfortunate sister, merely with a view to his reformation public opinion is actually in favor of Rainford at this moment. But how happened it that Lady Hatfield was unable to procure that document, which conferred a full pardon upon him? That woman possesses a most generous, a most noble heart, exclaimed the earl. The voluptuous monarch sought to render her the victim of his lust, and it suddenly struck her when his designs became unmistakably apparent, that her friendship for me. She accordingly affected to yield in a certain measure to his disgusting overtures. She overcame the natural scruples of a pure soul, so far as to give vague promises, and encouraged the king's passion in order to obtain from him the document which he required. And she succeeded. But on the occasion of that interview with the king, at which he presented her with an extraordinary combination of circumstances, however, had led Rainford into the palace on that very evening. An accident enabled him not only to deliver Georgiana from the power of the king, but likewise to extort from his majesty that written promise of deep obligation, which has proved so vitally important to his interests. The entire affair is truly romantic, observed the doctor. And now you wish me to give you my words. I am already acquainted with much concerning them, and conjecture enables me to comprehend more, resumed the nobleman. At the same time, I should be pleased to hear a connected account from your lips. It is by no means a disagreeable task for me to narrate incidents which prove the existence of so many generous traits in the heart of that man whom I was the greatest in my laboratory. I have regarded him almost in the light of a sun. I must begin by informing you that Rainford was deeply touched by a conversation which he had with you, relative to the miseries and crimes of the poor and ignorant classes of society. That conversation took place in the evening following his resuscitation, observed Arthur, the same evening on which I captured Benjamin Bones as he was ascending from the ground. He himself and your half-brother had together on that occasion, resumed the doctor, induced him to reflect profoundly upon the nature of crime, the circumstances which engender and afterwards encourages, and the best modes of producing a reformation. That train of thought led him to ponder upon other matters, essentially regarding yourself, for he saw that Benjamin Bones would prove your most wise and carry into effect some atrocious schemes of vengeance against you. These convictions filled Rainford's mind with the gloomiest apprehensions, although he contrived to avail them from you. He trembled lest you should fall into the snares which that incarnant fiend, God forgive me for speaking ill of the dead, was certain to spread at your feet. And he resolved to adopt some advice to watch over that brother who had acted so generously and nobly towards him. But not to a soul to de-communicate his ideas, until he had safely embarked with Tamar, Jacob Smith, and Charlie Watts on board the American packet ship at Harvard y Grace. Then he revealed his intentions to Tamar, and she immediately fell into his views, for she knew no will save his own. And there Rainford, his wife, the youth, and the boy, were landed in the middle of the night. The next morning your half brother and Caesar appeared in the disguise of Blackamores, and from St. Peter's Port, the capital of the island, they sailed for Weymouth, Tamar with Charlie Watts proceeding by way of Southampton. The rendezvous was London, and all Rainford's plans, so far arranged. On her arrival in the metropolis, Tamar immediately sent for her father and sister to the inn at which she elided, and to them she communicated her husband's design. It was, of course, necessary to keep the entire scheme concealed from yourself, as it was well known that you would never rest until you had persuaded your brother to quit the country again, were you aware of his return. I am sure that you would have had the courage of duplicity towards you. Subsequently, I mean, after your engagement together, she felt herself bound still to guard inviolably a secret that had your welfare as its basis. Well then, Mr. DiMidina and Esther lent themselves to the project, and cheerfully too, because they recognized all the importance of allowing Rainford to adopt the necessary measures to ensure the proper precautions being taken to enable them to dwell there in the strictest privacy and the fidelity of the servants being well assured in respect to their presence at that house. So far, all proceeded satisfactorily, and in the meantime Rainford, accompanied by Jacob Smith, whom he named Caesar, arrived in London. You may conceive my surprise when one evening, having been informed by my servant that an East Indian gentleman was waiting in that apartment and found myself in the presence of Thomas Rainford. I did not recognize him at once, but he speedily made himself known to me, and when his plans were developed, I readily agreed to aid him in their accomplishment. As he had expected and indeed calculated, I had full and complete control over the houses in Red Lion and Turn Mill streets, and he felt convinced that you would never think before of plunging his victims into the subterranean cells, and you allowed me the use of the premises for my laboratory. Under all these circumstances, the house in Red Lion Street was the best suited to Rainford's designs, and it was speedily furnished in a suitable manner. The neighbors believed that a retired East Indian merchant had taken the place, and therefore no surprise, no excitement was occasioned when they perceived that Rainford was the only person in the world to take the place, but how did Rainford manage to obtain the assistance of several faithful persons, who were blindly obedient to his will, and to one of whom, named Wilton, he entrusted his entire history. They were all poor and deserving persons whom I knew well, men who had at different times been my patience, and in whom I knew well, and when he had succeeded in tracing the abode of Benjamin Bones, chance threw him in the way of a certain John Jeffries whom he resolved to render subservient to his purposes in uprooting the atrocious gang. The physician then proceeded to relate the manner in which Rainford had drawn Jeffries into his service. The revelations made to him by that individual's unfolding all the dreadful schemes of the exhumation of the coffin in St. Luke's churchyard, and the ferocious idea of blinding Lady Hatfield and Esther D. Medina, the mode in which these diabolical aims were frustrated by the arrest of all the members of Old Death's gang, and the faithful conduct of Jeffries. Dr. LaCelle also narrated the proceedings of Rainford in the difficult affair of Mr. Torrance, how, disguised as an old man, and admirably sustaining the dead Lion Street to preside at the examination of the two prisoners, and how he, Dr. LaCelle, had become a party to that transaction, all of which particulars are well known to the reader. Finally, the physician made the earl acquainted with the nature and the results of the system of reformation applied to all the members of the gang, how it had succeeded in respect to Tidmarsh, the Bunces, Peddler and Splint, and how Esther D. Medina had deputed her unfortunate sister to visit Benjamin Bones on that fatal evening which was characterized by a savage murder. There was only one point connected with Rainford's affairs on which the earl and the physician did not touch, and this was the parentage of little Charlie Watts. The doctor was unacquainted with the fact that Rainford had some years back forcibly violated the person of Lady Hatfield, and that the issue of this crime was the boy who still bore the name by which we have just called him. The earl of Ellingham naturally bailed the circumstance even from a friend so intimate and sincere as Lacelle. And though the doctor knew that Lady Hatfield had been a mother, he also kept this knowledge to himself, and was very far from suspecting the true history of Charlie Watts. Lacelle, it will be remembered, had made the discovery relative to Georgiana on that occasion when he attended her in her severe illness, and when he gave her a sulfurific, as recorded in the early part of this work. But he had never mentioned that discovery to a soul, and the earl of Ellingham was as far from supposing that Lady Hatfield's loss of chastity was known to the physician as the physician was from entertaining even the remotest idea relative to the parentage of the boy. But Rainford was already aware that this boy was his own son. The issue of the outrage which he had perpetrated upon Lady Hatfield. Yes, on the evening before this interview between the earl of Ellingham and Dr. LaCelle. The former had so far intruded upon his brother's profound grief as to make him a revelation which a sense of duty forbade him to delay. Rainford also learned at the same time that Georgiana was herself acquainted with the fact of her child being in his care, placed under his protection as it were by the inscrutable decrees of Providence. But for the sake of the honour of Lady Hatfield, and of sparing Rainford from the necessity of giving unpleasant and degrading explanations to his friends, it had been determined between Lord Ellingham and himself that the boy should still continue to bear the name of Watts and that his real parentage should be unacknowledged, at least for the present. In order not to dwell with tedious minuteness upon this portion of our narrative, we shall briefly state that the funeral of Tamar took place on the day appointed, and if the tears of heartfelt grief mourners can avail for the souls of the departed, then the spirit of the murdered Jewess must have received ample solace and full propitiation in those regions to which it had taken way. But how deep a gloom had fallen upon the family of Medina, and how poignant was the anguish which the bereaved father and sister experienced for the departed. Nor less acute was the sorrow of the husband who survived for immense was thy love for her, Tom Rain. End of Section 8 Recording by Brian Keenan Section 9 of Mysteries of London, Volume 4 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Brian Keenan Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds, Rising. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. Also in my section is to make general analysis of terme in the theatre. 是 here, a architectural mystery is neither more nor less than the court for the relief of insolvent debtors. At about nine o'clock in the morning the immediate vicinity of the court begins to wear a very businesslike appearance. That is to say both sides of the street are thronged with the most curious specimens of human nature which it is possible to encounter outside of Newgate or of the bench. The wonder is when such a host of ill-looking fellows can have sprung, or whether they can be going, unless it is to either of the two places just named. Then comes the natural question, but who are they? The answer is at hand. Some are the turnkeys of the county prisons at the tips-daves of the bench, having in their charge prisoners about to be heard at the court. Others are the usual hangers-on and errand-seekers who are always to be found lurking about such places, while a third set are the friends or else the opposing creditors of the insolvents. The public house opposite the court, and the one at the side, are also filled with the persons of those descriptions, and before ten o'clock in the morning many pots of porter are disposed of, many quarters of gin dispensed in two or three outs, and many screws of tobacco puffed off in smoke. Inside the court business commences in somewhat a more serious manner. Four or five barristers take their places in a large box divided into two compartments like pews in a church. A couple of commissioners seat themselves on a bench made in very humble imitation indeed of those in the courts at Westminster. A single reporter lounges into the snug crib so kindly allotted to the representatives of the press. Several attorneys and attorneys' clerks gather around the table between the council seats and the bench. The insolvents are penned up together in a sort of human fold on the right as you go into the tribunal, and at the back a crowd of unwashed faces rise empathetically in the compartment appropriated to the audience. The commissioners endeavor to look as much like the judges of the land as possible. The barristers affect all the consequence and heirs of sergeants-at-law, or king's council. The insolvents try to seem as happy as if they had nothing awkward in their schedules to account for, and the spectators raise heaven and earth to appear respectable. But each and all of these attempts are the most decided failures which it is possible to conceive. A general air of seediness pervades the place. The professional wigs are dirty and out of curl, and the forensic gowns threadbare. And the disagreeable impression thus created on the mind of the visitor is enhanced to no trifling degree by a sickly smell of perspiration combined with the stale odor of tobacco smoke retained in the garments of the audience. Amongst the insolvents were two individuals whose appearance formed a most striking contrast. These were Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks and Mr. Frank Curtis. The former was dressed in deep black with a white neck cloth, and black cotton gloves a great deal too large for his hands. He'd also put black crepe around his hat in the hope of creating the sympathy of the commissioners by producing the impression of having sustained some serious and recent family loss. His sallow face was elongated with the awful sanctimoniousness which characterized it. His black hair was combed sleekly down over his forehead. And he said both upright on the hard bench, every now and then raising his eyes to heaven, or rather to the lanthorn on the roof of the court, as if in silent prayer. Mr. Frank Curtis was attired in his habitually flash manner. And as he lulled back in his seat, he now and then bestowed a significant wink upon his attorney at the table, or exchanged a few familiar observations with the tips to F whom he had treated to egg-hot at the public house opposite before they entered the court. But where was Captain Oblunderbus? Had he deserted his friend on this trying occasion? Gentle reader, do not suppose for an instant that the gallant officer was capable of what he himself would describe to be the most basely mainness, so long as Frank had a shilling left in his pocket, or the ability to raise one. The captain then was there, and in the vicinity of Mr. Curtis. For the terrible Irishman had posted himself as near as possible to the box in which the insolvents stand to be examined. In the first place, that when Frank should mount to that bad eminence, he might be close by to encourage him with his looks. And in the second place, he had taken that particular stand as the one whence he could best dart ferocious glances at the commissioners, in case these functionaries should take it into their heads to deal harshly with his friend. And now the business of that day's proceeding commenced, and the clerk of the court balled out in a loud tone, Joshua Sheepshanks. Here, my Christian friend, groaned the religious gentleman, drawing himself slowly up to his full thin lanky height, and beginning to move slowly and solemnly towards the box above mentioned. Now then, Joshua Sheepshanks cried the clerk in a sharp tone. Come, Joshua Sheepshanks, look alive, grumbled the official who administers the oaths to the insolvents. Cut along, old fellow, whispered Frank Curtis, giving the sanctimonious dissenter a hearty pinch on the leg as he passed by. Mr. Sheepshanks uttered a low moan, cast up his eyes towards the lanthorn, muttered something about his having fallen amongst the ungodly, and ended by hoisting himself into the box with some degree of alacrity, his slow movements having rendered the court impatient. Does any counsel appear for you, Joshua Sheepshanks, demanded the clerk. None, unless it be the Lord's will that I should be supported by Divine Grace, answered the dissenting minister, in so doleful atone, and with such a solemn shaking of the head, that the whole court was alarmed lest he was about to go off in a fit. I appear to oppose on behalf of several creditors, said Mr. Bullowell, one of the leading barristers practicing in that court. Oh, the persevering bitterness of those rankerous men, exclaimed Mr. Sheepshanks, clasping his hands together, and turning up the whites of his eyes in an appalling fashion. Silence insolvent cried the clerk in a sharp tone. Meantime, the commissioners had both been taking a long and simultaneous stare at the religious gentleman, and though one was poor-blind and the other in his dotage, they nevertheless seemed to arrive in the long run at pretty well the same conclusion, which was that Mr. Sheepshanks was a dreadful humbug. The glances they interchanged through their spectacles expressed to each other this conviction, and the sharper of the two who rejoiced in the name of Sneasby, forthwith proceeded to examine the schedule. I see that you were once a missionary in the South Sea Island's Bible-circulating Society, insolvent, said this learned functionary. Under the divine favour, I was such a vessel in the good cause, answered Mr. Sheepshanks, with the invariable nasal twang of hypocrisy. A what? demanded Mr. Commissioner Sneasby in an impatient tone. He says he was a vessel, sir, observed Mr. Bollowell, the barrister. It is a word much in vogue amongst the religious world. Oh, the insolvent calls himself a vessel, does he? exclaimed the commissioner. Well, he has come to a pretty anchorage at last. And yet, sir, I can assure you he is no anchorite, said Mr. Bollowell. These were jokes on the part of the commissioner and the council, and therefore the attorneys, the clerks, and the audience tittered, as in duty bound, when the wig forgot its wisdom and indulged in wit. And the insolvent all laughed, too, but for another reason. In fact, Mr. Frank Curtis had applied his right hand to his nose and extended it in a fan-like form. Or, in other words, he took a sight at the learned commissioner and worked in imaginary coffee mill at the same time with his left hand. Order being restored, the business proceeded. And having been a missionary, I observed by your schedule that you turned a dissenting minister insolvent, said Mr. Commissioner Sneasby, interrogatively. I was a brand snatched from the burning, sir, replied Mr. Sheepshanks, and having sorely wrestled with Satan, give me a direct answer, man, cried the commissioner sharply. Did you leave an institution connected with the established church and become a dissenter? Heaven so willed it, responded the sanctimonious insolvent in a droning voice. I had a call, and I obeyed it. Who opposes this man, inquired the commissioner. Jeremiah Chubley vociferated the clerk of the court. Here growled a man dressed as a bricklayer. Now then, Jeremiah Chubley, stand up in the witness box, continued the clerk. Come, Mr. Chubley, make haste, said Mr. Bollowell, the barrister, speaking more civilly and using the honorary prefix of minister, because he had been retained by the individual to whom he applied it. Mr. Chubley mounted the witness box, and while the oath was being administered to him, both the commissioners inflicted a long stare on his countenance just to satisfy themselves by this physiognomical scrutiny, whether he were a trustworthy person or not. For commissioners in the insolvent's court are great physiognomists, very great physiognomists indeed. Your name is Jeremiah Chubley, said Mr. Bollowell, rising in a stately manner, and darting a ferocious glance towards Mr. Sheepshanks, as much as to say, now, my man, I'm going to illicit things against you that will prove you to be the greatest rogue in existence. Yes, my name be Chubley, sir, answered the opposing creditor, but I paid you to tackle that there sneaking looking chap over there, and not to divestion me. My dear sir, said Mr. Bollowell, blandly, this is the way of conducting an opposition where counsel is employed. Your name is Jeremiah Chubley, and you are a master bricklayer, I believe. I told you so a week ago, replied the opposing creditor savagely. Yes, yes, but you must tell the learned commissioners all over again what you told me, gently remonstrated Mr. Bollowell. I believe you are the proprietor of a chapel in the Tottenham Court Road. Yes, I be, sir, responded Mr. Chubley, I built she, and a stronger, better, or more comfortable place of worship you wouldn't find in all London, least ways bar in St. Paul's. Well, and this chapel was to let some three or four months ago, I believe, continued Mr. Bollowell. Yes, it were, sir, and I had black guards up at the grocers round the corner. Had what man demanded the commissioners simultaneously, and as it were in the same breath? He means that he put placards up at a neighboring grocers, sir, mildly explained Mr. Bollowell. Then, turning again to the opposing creditor, the learned counsel said, and I believe the insolvent was attracted by the placards and applied to you in consequence. You come round to my house, sir, just as me and my missus was sitting down to dinner, answered Mr. Chubley. It was bile pork and greens we had, I remember, because it says I to my missus says I. Well, well, Mr. Chubley interrupted the counsel. We will proceed, if you please. The insolvent came round to you and inquired about the chapel that was to let. Yes, he did, and he asked to many confessions about the Oregon and the pulpit and the westerie and so on. And, being satisfied with your replies, he agreed to take the chapel. Yes, and to pay a keyboarder in advance, which was eleven pound ten, answered Mr. Chubley. Well, what took place next, inquired one of the commissioners, growing impatient, while his brother, Judge, took a nap. Please, my lad, he sits down and pitches into the bile pork and greens, responded the opposing creditor. There was a laugh amongst the audience, but as the joke did not arise from either the bench or the bar, the ushers bawled out silence as loudly as they could. The insolvent, I believe, not only admitted to pay the quarter in advance, said Mr. Bullowell, but succeeded in obtaining from you the loan of forty pounds. In hard cash, and that's what aggravates me and my missus so again him, replied the opposing creditor. But in what manner did he obtain those forty pounds, asked Mr. Bullowell, tell the learned commissioners, why, one of them's asleep, and so it's no use to speak into he, exclaimed Mr. Chubley. There was another laugh, which the clerics and ushers immediately suppressed, and Captain O'Blunderbuss ran a narrow risk of being ignominously bundled out of the court for observing in a tone somewhat above a whisper. Bejasus, and that says through, was that every rail Irishman loves potein. But the best of the business was that the somnolent commissioner woke up, and catching the fag end of a laugh accompanied by the loud cries of silence on the part of the officials of the court, he immediately fancy that some person had perpetrated a great breach of decorum, and exclaimed in a severe tone, whoever is the cause of disturbance must be turned out. Hereupon there was another laugh, and even Mr. Bullowell himself was compelled to stoop down and pretend to examine his brief in order to conceal the mobility of his risable muscles. Come, come, let the business proceed, said Commissioner Sneetsby, anxious to relieve his brother functionary from any further embarrassment. For the latter learned a gentleman was quite bewildered by the renewed hilarity which his words had provoked. Tell the bench how the insolvent obtained from you the forty pounds, Mr. Chubbly, exclaimed Mr. Bullowell. Please, sir, my Mrs. has only got one eye. Well, and what has that to do with it, demanded Mr. Commissioner Sneetsby. Just this, my lad, that that ear sneaking-fellier got on the blindside with she, and began a pitching into she all kind of gammon, calling his self a chosen vessel, and telling her how she would be certain sure of going to heaven if we only let him have the funds to set up in business as a preacher. He swore that all the aristocracy was a dying to hear him in the pulpit, and so he persuades my Mrs. to be pew-opener, and he gammons me to call myself a helder. A what? exclaimed Commissioner Sneetsby. An elder, sir, observed Mr. Bullowell. For it is to be remarked that when judges at Westminster or commissioners in Portugal Street cannot understand anything, or effect not to do so, the council are always prepared to give them an explanation. Yet, when these council become judges or commissioners in their turn, they grow just as opaque of intellect and as slow of comprehension as those whom they were once accustomed to enlighten. Well, go on, man, said Commissioner Sneetsby, addressing himself to the opposing creditor. Well, mulled, proceeded Mr. Chubbly, that their sniggering feller come over us all in such a fave with his blessed insinuations, that we all thought him a perfect saint. We was glad to wipe off the dust of such a man's shoes, as the saint is. So I goes to my friend Cheeserite, the grocer, and I says, says I, Cheesy, my boy, you must be a helder, too. So Cheeserite acts as what a helder is, and when I tells him that it's to preside over a chapel in which a regular saint holds forth, that all helders is booked for the right place and other world, he says, says he, Chubbly, my boy, tip us your fist, and I'm your man for a helder, too. And now tell the learned commissioners what this business has to do with your opposition to the insolvence discharge, said Mr. Bollowell, seeing that the bench was growing impatient. By mulled's continued Chubbly, scratching his head, that their insinivating chap gets Cheesy to lend him his acceptance for thirty pounds, and he comes to me and gets me to write my name along the back on it, so he gets it discounted and leaves us to pay it. Here Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks held up his hands and groaned aloud, as if in horrified dismay at the construction put upon his conduct. Silence insolvent exclaimed the usher ferociously. And now Mr. Chubbly, resumed Mr. Bollowell, what answer did you obtain from the insolvent when you stated to him that you had heard certain reports which made you anxious to receive security for the rent of the chapel, the forty pounds, and the amount of the bill for which you were liable? He said as how that the chapel hadn't succeeded as he thought it would have done, that he'd been disappointed, and that me in Cheeserite must have patience. And when you told him that you and Mr. Cheeserite would not wait any longer, what did he say? He said we was a generation of wipers. And when you put him into prison? He sent for me and said I mustn't hope to be paid in this world, but as I had laid up for myself a treasure in heaven he expected me to let him out of quad for nothing. There was a general titter in which Bench and Barre joined, and the only demure countenances present were those of the creditor who was done, and Mr. Sheepshanks who had done him. In fact, this pious gentleman was so overcome by the unpleasantness of his position, that he compared himself in the religious anguish of his spirit to the man who went down to Jericho and fell amongst thieves. Silence being again restored, two other opposing creditors were examined in their turn, and their evidence went to prove that Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks had obtained from them a quantity of goods under such very questionable pretenses that he might think himself exceedingly fortunate in having been sent to the King's Bench instead of to Newgate. The opposition having arrived at this stage, Mr. Bollwell proceeded to address the court in a long and furious speech based upon the testimony that had been given against the insolvent. The agreeable appellations of sanctimonious hypocrite, double-faced ranter, unprincipled trader in pious duplicities, and such like terms, were freely applied to Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks in the course of this oration. The learned gentleman dwelt bitterly, but not one atom more severely than the subject deserved, upon the rascally scoundrelism which is practiced by those persons who are denominated saints. And he concluded a rather eloquent speech by praying the court to express its sense of the insolvent's criminality, by remanding him for as long a period as the act of parliament would allow. When called upon for anything he might have to say in his defense, Mr. Sheepshanks applied a white handkerchief to his eyes, and after shaking his head solemnly for several moments, he revealed his lugubrious countenance once more. Purposely elongating it, until he fancied he had tortured himself into as impressive a pitch of misery as one could wish to behold. He then began a tedious and doleful dissertation upon the vanity of earthly things. Marvel, that his opposing creditors should prefer the filthy looker to the welfare of their immortal souls, declared that when he first went amongst them he found them lamentably benighted, but that he had at one time brought them to a state of grace, complained that they had treated him as if he had been a vessel of wrath, whereas he flattered himself that he was in a most savory state of godliness, hinted rather significantly that he looked upon his present predicament as a glorious martyrdom in the good cause, and wound up with an earnest prayer to the commissioners that they would not be moved by the men of Belial against him, but that even as heaven tempered the wind to the shorn lamb, they would modify their judgment according to his lamentable condition. To this speech, delivered in the most approved nasal twang of the dissenting pulpit, and with many doleful moans and frightful contortions, commissioners sneezed be listened with exemplary patience. So indeed it is learned to brother judge, but in this latter case it was with the eyes shut. The moment however the harang was brought to an end, the eyes alluded to open slowly and gazed rather vacantly round, but with judicial keenness, they speedily comprehended the exact stage of the proceedings, and the possessor of the sleepy optics forthwith began to consult with his co-agitor in solemn whispers. Their conversation ran somewhat in the ensuing manner. It is getting on for one o'clock, and I begin to feel quite faint, said the somniferous commissioner. A chop and a glass of sherry will do us each good, observed to Mr. Sneasby. Bullowell does make such long winded speeches. Well, so he does, but I always pretend to listen to them, and thus he enjoys the reputation of having the ear of the court. I'm going to dine with Sergeant Splutterby this evening, and so I shall leave at about four o'clock. Very well, said Mr. Commissioner Sneasby, I shall sit till six. But what are we to do with this canting hypocrite of an insolvent? Six months, I suppose, he is a dreadful villain. Yes, and while you were asleep, he made a frightful long speech. Oh, in that case then, let us give him a twelve month, and then for the chops in the sherry. Good, a twelve month, and then the chops in the sherry. Mr. Commissioner Sneasby, having thus assented to the suggestions of his sleepy co-editor, turned in a solemn manner towards Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks, and addressed that miserable looking creature in the following terms. Insolvent, the court has maturely deliberated upon your case. We have listened with deep attention to the evidence of the opposing creditors, and the address of the learned counsel on their behalf. We have likewise followed you with equal care throughout your defense, and we feel ourselves bound to pronounce an adverse judgment. Your conduct has been most reprehensible, aggravated too by the fact that your offenses have been committed under the cloak of religion. My learned brother agrees with me in the opinion that your proceedings have been most fraudulent. We might even use harsher terms, but we will forbear. The judgment of the court is that you, Joshua Sheepshanks, be remanded at the suit of your three opposing creditors for the period of twelve calendar months from the date of your vesting order. Stand down, insolvent, cried the clerk. The discomforted Mr. Sheepshanks raised his eyes and hands upwards, and gave vent to a hollow groan, which made the audience think for a moment that it was a ghost from the tomb who was passing through the insolvent's court. Silence, insolvent, forciferated and official, making much more noise to enforce his command than the pious gentlemen did in provoking the injunction. You must swear to your schedule, said the usher, as Mr. Sheepshanks was descending from the box. Damn the schedule, muttered the reverend insolvent in a savage whisper. What do you say, demanded the usher. I prayed to heaven to have mercy upon my relentless persecutors, even as I forgive them, answered Mr. Sheepshanks with a solemn shake of the head. He then quitted the box and forthwith accompanied the tipstaff who had charge of him to the public house opposite, where he drowned his cares in such a quantity of hot brandy and water, that the tipstaff, aforesaid, was compelled to put him into a cab and convey him back to the king's bench in a desperate state of intoxication. In the meantime, the two commissioners retired to partake of their chops and sherry. The learned council likewise withdrew to their private room, where they also refreshed themselves. The attorneys stole away for a quarter of an hour, and the audience took little portable dinners of Savaloys and biscuits from their pocket handkerchiefs, so that the compartment of the court allotted to spectators suddenly appeared to have been transformed into a slap-bang shop on an inferior scale. The fifteen minutes grace having expired, commissioners, council, and lawyers returned to their places. The audience wiped their mouths, and the clerk of the court called forth the name of Francis Curtis. End of section nine, recording by Brian Keenan.