 Chapter 50 of the Mysteries of London 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 Lynn Thompson The Mysteries of London by George Reynolds Chapter 50 The Drugged Wine Glass Return We Once More to the Villa at Upper Clapton Eliza Sidney's household consisted only of Louisa and a peasant girl of about fifteen. She no longer kept horses and dogs, as she was compelled by Stevens to do during the time of her disguise, previously to her imprisonment. She therefore required ten male retainers, save an old gardener who lived in one of the outhouses. A fictitious letter had caused the faithful Louisa to set out on a long journey, as the principal obstacle to the atrocious scheme of the conspirators against Eliza's peace and honour was removed. At ten o'clock on the evening fixed for the perpetuation of the foul deed, the servant girl carried the suppotray to the dining-room where Eliza and Stevens were seated. The domestic spread the table with the materials for the most sociable of all meals, and, having placed two decanters upon the hospitable board, withdrew. The countenance of Stevens was particularly calm considering the part he had undertaken to play towards the woman whose loveliness alone was sufficient to disown the hand of enmity, and obtain the friendship of the most lawless. She had, moreover, already suffered so much through him, she had extended towards him the hand of forgiveness and succour in his dire need, and she possessed the most generous, the most noble, and the most confiding of dispositions. Oh, should not all these considerations have moved that man in her favour? He had received from Eliza the hundred pounds which she had promised him. With that sum he might have found his way to America, and still had a considerable balance in his pocket, but he determined to add to it the two hundred pounds more which Greenwood had promised him, although calm he was very thoughtful. You seem unhappy, said Eliza, observing the pensive air of her guest. Surely you cannot regret your approaching departure from a land where your safety is so fearfully compromised, and yet the land of which you speak is the one of my birth, and when once I have left it, I may reckon upon being destined to see it never again. Yes, it is hard to bid an eternal adieu to one's native country, and yet, continued Eliza, there is but little to wed the sensitive mind to England, since my release I have passed nearly all my time in reading, and I am shocked to perceive from the information I have gleaned that England is the only civilised country in the world where death from starvation, literal starvation, is common. Indeed, it is an event of such frequent occurrence that it actually ceases to create astonishment, and almost fails to excite dismay. There must be something radically wrong in that system of society where all the wealth is in the hands of a few, and all the misery is shared by millions. You would then quit England without much regret, said Stevens. For myself, answered Eliza, I abhor a country in which poverty and destitution prevailed to such an extent, while there is so much to spare in the hands of the favoured few. I sometimes look forth from the window and survey that mighty city which stretches over plain, hill and valley, and which is ever extending its mighty arms, as if in time it would embrace the entire island. I gaze upon it at that hour in the morning when the eternal cloud is raised for a little space from its brow. And as I mark the thousand spires which point up into the cool clear sky, I tremble, I feel oppressed, as with a weight, when I reflect upon the hideous misery, the agonising woe, the appalling sorrow that once entailed upon the sons and daughters of toil in that vast Babylon. And do you not suppose that the same destitution prevailed in the other great cities of Europe? Certainly not. Were a person to die of actual starvation in Paris, the entire population would rise up in dismay. With all our immense and cumbersome machinery of poor lords, there is more real wretchedness in these islands than in any other country upon the face of the earth, not even accepting the myriad to dwell upon the rivers of China. The topic is calculated to distress you because you enter so deeply and feelingly into it, said Stevens. Take a glass of wine, it will compose you. Stevens filled two glasses with port wine, and almost at the same moment he exclaimed, What a bad light the lamp gives this evening. Then in a feigned attempt to raise the wick, he turned the screw the wrong way and extinguished the light. How awkward I am, he cried, and while Eliza hastened to relight the lamp, he poured a few drops from the file into one of the glasses of wine. The lamp was lighted once more, and Eliza had redeemed her seat. Steven handed her the fatal glass. May all the health and happiness attend you, he said, and may God reward you for your generosity towards me. The words did not stick in his throat, as he gave them utterance. And may you prosper in another climb, exclaimed Eliza, in a tone which proved that the wish came from the bottom of her heart. And then she drank a portion of the wine in her glass. The countenance of Stevens did not change as Eliza imbibed the soporific fluid. The counten planted her beautyous face with as much calmness as if he had just administered to her a potion calculated to embellish her charms and add to her health and happiness. Either my taste deceives me, said Eliza, placing the half-empty glass upon the table, or this wine has some defect which I cannot understand. No, it is excellent, returned Stevens. I drink so little that I scarcely know the proper taste, observed Eliza. The pure spring water is my favourite beverage. It is considered an unlucky omen to leave unfinished the glass in which you pledge the health of one who is about to traverse the ocean, said Stevens. In that case, answered Eliza with a smile, I will relieve your superstitious fears, and she drained her glass. Half an hour passed in conversation, and Eliza felt an irresistible drowsiness coming over her. She endeavoured to rally against it, but in vain, and at length she would have fallen from her chair fast asleep, had not Stevens rushed forward and caught her. He then rang the bell for the servant. Your mistress is unwell, she has been complaining all the evening, and now she has fallen into a profound sleep. I will assist you to convey her upstairs to her chamber. Stevens and the servant carried the entranced lady to the boudoir. Having placed her upon the bed, Stevens left the servant to undress her, and hastily descended to the hall. He opened the front door with caution, and whistled. Two men emerged from the total darkness without, and glided into the hall. Stevens conducted them into the back parlour, and gave them the key to lock himself in. He himself then returned to the dining-room, where he tranquilly awaited the arrival of Mr Greenwood. Midnight was proclaimed at length. A low knock at the front door fell upon Stevens' ears. He hastened to obey the summons and admitted Greenwood into the house. They repaired to the dining-room together. Your wishes have been obeyed in all respects, said Stevens. Eliza is in your power. The servant has retired to her own room. Give me my reward, for I am in a hurry to leave a dwelling to which my presence will have brought so much misery. And yet this man did not seem a poured nor horror-struck at the infernal nature of the crime for which he was thus demanded the recompense. You will await me here five minutes, said Greenwood, and he left the room. At the expiration of that interval he returned, the fire of triumph and lust flashing from his eyes. It is all well. You have not deceived me, he observed in a tone of joy and exultation. I have seen her, buried in a profound sleep, stretched like a beautyous statue in her voluptuous bed. The light of a lamp plays upon her naked bosom. The atmosphere of her chamber is soft, warm and perfumed. Such charms are worth the kingdom's purchase. She is mine. She is mine. Here is your reward. Greenwood handed a banknote to his accomplice, or rather instrument, in this atrocious proceeding, and Stevens then took his departure. But as he passed through the hall he thrust a letter addressed to Eliza Sydney, beneath the carpet that covered the stairs. The moment Greenwood was alone he paced the dining-room for a few minutes, to feast his imagination with the pleasures of love and triumph which he now beheld within his reach. Yes, she is mine, he said. She is mine. No power on earth can now save her. Oh, how will I triumph over the proud and haughty beauty, when tomorrow she wakes and finds herself in my arms. She will thrust her hand beneath a pillow for her long, sharp dagger. It will not be there. She will extend her arm towards the bell-rope. It will be cut. And then she may rave and weep and reproach and pray. I shall smile at her grief. Her eyes will be more beautiful when seen through her tears. I shall compel her then to crave to be my mistress. She who refused to be my wife. Oh, what a triumph is within my reach. He paused, filled a tumbler half full of wine, and drank the contents at a draught. Now for my victory. Now for the fruits of my intrigue, he resumed. But let me wait one moment longer. Let me ask myself whether it can be really true that the lovely Eliza Sydney will shortly bless my arms, that she is at this moment in my power. It is, it is, and I shall now no longer delay the enjoyment of that terrestrial paradise. With these words he left the dining-room and crossed the hall towards the staircase. He was now about to ascend to the boudoir. His foot was on the first step, when he was rudely seized from behind and instantly gagged with a pocket-tanker-chief. Turning his head partially round in a vain effort to escape from the powerful grasp in which he found himself, he encountered by the light of the lamp that hung in the hall, the glance of the cracksman. The juice exclaimed the burglar in a low and subdued tone. This is a rum-go, working for you last night and against you to-night. But never mind, we must fulfil our agreement. Let it be what it will. I can, however, tell you for your satisfaction that we don't mean to hurt you, so come along quiet and all will be right. What's the meaning of this, Tom? said the cracksman's companion, who was no other than the resurrection man. You don't mean to say that you know this, fellow. He's the one that we did the job for last night on the Richmond Road, answered the crackman. And he's got plenty of tin, added the resurrection man significantly. We can perhaps make a better bargain with him than what Stevens has promised us for the night's business. Yes, but we can't talk here, returned the cracksman. So come along, I've got my plan all cut and dry. Greenwood conveyed several intimations by means of signs that he wished to speak, but the two ruffians hurried him out of the house. They conducted him across the fields to an empty barn at a distance of about a mile from the villa. During the journey thither they conversed together, in a flash language, altogether unintelligible to their captive, who was still gagged. A difference of opinion evidently seemed to subsist between the two men, relative to the plan which they should pursue with regard to Greenwood. But their lengths appeared to agree upon the point. With regard to Greenwood himself, he was afraid to a variety of painful feelings, disappointment in his designs upon Eliza, at the moment when he appeared to stand upon the threshold of success, bitter malignity against Stevens who had thus duped him, and alarm at the uncertainty of the fate which might await him in the hands of the villains, in whose power he thus strangely found himself. The night was pitch dark, but the moment the two ruffians with their captive entered the barn, a lantern in the hands of the cracksman was suddenly made to throw a bright light forwards. That light fell upon the countenance of Stevens, who was standing in the middle of the shed. All right, said the cracksman, we pinioned the bird without trouble, and he ain't a strange one, neither. What do you mean that you know him? demanded Stevens. That's neither here nor there, replied the cracksman. We don't tell secrets out of school, because if we did there'd be no reliance put in us, and we'd does a great many pretty little jobs now and then for the swell folks. But here is your bird, delivered at this very spot, according to agreement. Well and good, said Stevens, tie him at hand and foot. The cracksman and the resurrection man instantly obeyed this command. They threw greenwood upon a truss of straw, and fastened his hands together, and then his feet with strong cord. Here is your reward, said Stevens, as soon as this was accomplished. I have now no more need of your services. He handed them some money as he thus spoke, and, having counted it, the two villains bade him good night and left the barn, which was now enveloped in total darkness. Montague Greenwood, said Stevens, as soon as he was alone with his prisoner, your design upon Eliza Sydney was too atrocious for even a man who has been knocked about in the world, as I have, to permit. You dazzled me with the promise of a reward, which my necessities did not prevent me to refuse, and, moreover, secured my cooperation by means of menaces. But I was determined to defeat your treacherous designs to avenge myself for the threats which you uttered against me, and to obtain the recompense you had promised me, at the same time. How well I have succeeded, you now know. The whole of yesterday morning did I wander amongst the sinks of iniquity and horts of crime in Clarkinwell, a neighbourhood of Safran Hill, and accident led me into a low public house where I encountered two men who agreed to do my bidding. I tell you all this to convince you that never for a moment was I villain enough, bad though I may be, to pander to infamy of so deep a die as that which you meditated. I have taken measures to acquaint the noble-hearted woman who drew in you aimed at, with the entire history of this transaction, so that she may be upon her guard in future. With reference to you, here I shall leave you. In a few hours the labourers of the farm will no doubt discover you, and you will be restored to liberty when Eliza has awakened from her torpor, and I shall be far beyond the danger of pursuit. Stephen ceased, and taking a long rope from the corner of the barn where he had concealed it, he fastened it to the cord which already confined the hands and feet of Greenwood. He then attached the ends firmly to one of the upright beams of the barn, so as to prevent the captive from crawling away from the place. This precaution being adopted, Stephen stuck his departure. It would be impossible to describe the rage, vexation and disappointment which filled the breast of Greenwood, while Stephen's addressed him in a manner described, and then bound him with the cord. Yet during this latter process he lay perfectly quiet, well aware that any attempt at escape on his part would at that moment be totally unavailing. Five minutes elapsed after Stephen's had left the barn, and Greenwood was marvelling within himself how long he should have to remain in that unpleasant position, bound with cords and gagged in such a way that he could only breathe through his nostrils, when a sound of footsteps fell upon his ear and the light of the cracksman's lantern again flashed through the barn. Well, sir, said the cracksman, your friend is gone now, and we can have a word or two together. You see, we couldn't help you at all, because we was obliged to fill our agreement with the man which hired us for the evening. Now it is just likely that you may have to remain here for some hours. If so be, we don't let you loose. So tell us what you'll give us for cutting them cords." The cracksman removed the gag from Greenwood's mouth as he uttered these words. I will give you my purse, exclaimed the discomfited financier. If you will release me this moment, it contains ten or fifteen guineas. Thank you kindly, said the cracksman, dryly. We've got that already. We helped ourselves to it as we came across the fields. Don't you see, we always make it a rule to have the plucking of all pigeons which were hired to snare. You told us we might take all we found on the swell in the sky blue cab. And that man, with a shallow complexion that hired us to do this here business tonight, said, I will give you twenty pounds and you can help yourself to all you find about the gentleman you to operate on. Call upon me tomorrow, and I will give you another twenty pounds to free me from these bonds, said Greenwood. That's only the price of a good corpse, said the resurrection man. Make it thirty. Yes, make it thirty, added the cracksman. Well, I will give you thirty guineas, cried Greenwood. Only delay not another instant. My limbs are stiffening with the cold and with the confinement of these accursed cords. Let it be thirty, then, said the cracksman. Here Tony, he added, turning towards his companion, hold this here light while I cut the cords. And while I think of it, Mr. Greenwood, I shan't call upon you for the money, but you'll send it to the Lion Lord of the Boozing Ken, where your servant came and found me. Mind it's there by tomorrow night, or else you'll repent it. That's all. Blow'd if we haven't had two good nights' work on it, Tony. But my eye, wasn't I surprised yesterday when the man with the shallow face, which hired us for tonight, told me that we were succumbed to that their villa, Yonder, and I found out as how it was the same that I cracked three years ago, along with Bill Bolter and Dick Fleurer. After all, there's been some curious things about all these matters, particular are having to tackle tonight the very gentleman which we served last night. Come, don't talk so much, Tom, said the resurrection man, but let's make haste and be off. There, it's done, exclaimed the cracksman, the cords is all cut, you can get up, sir. Greenwood arose from the straw upon which he had been lying and stretched his limbs with as much pleasure as if he had just recovered from a severe cramp. Then he reiterated his promise to the two men relative to the reward to be paid for the service just rendered him, and having inquired of them which was the nearest way to the West End, he set out upon his long and lowly walk home, depressed, disappointing, and hesitating between plans of vengeance against Stevens and fears of exposure in his own vile and defeated machinations with regard to the beautiful Eliza Sydney. End of Chapter 50 Chapter 51 of the Mysteries of London This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, auto-volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Lynn Thompson The Mysteries of London by George Reynolds Chapter 51 Diana and Eliza On the morning, following the events just narrated, Mrs. Arlington was seated at breakfast in a sweet little parlour of this splendid mansion which the Earl of Warrington had taken and fitted up for her in Dover Street Piccadilly. It was about eleven o'clock, and the enchantress was attired in a delicious des abbeille with her little feet upon an ottoman near the fender and her fine form reclining in a luxurious large armchair, she divided her attention between her chocolate and the columns of the morning herald. She invariably prolonged the morning's repasse as much as possible. Limply, because it served to while away the time until the hour for dressing arrived, then visits received filled up the interval till three or four o'clock when the carriage came round to the door. A drive in the park or shopping, according to the state of the weather, occupied the time until six or seven. Then another toilet in preparation for dinner. In the evening a tet-a-tet with the Earl of Warrington who had perhaps arrived in time for dinner or a visit to a theatre, the opera or a concert and to bed at midnight or frequently much later. Such was the routine of the enchantress's existence. The Earl of Warrington behaved most liberally towards her. On the first day of every month he enclosed her a cheque upon his banker, for two hundred guineas. He supplied her cellar with wine and frequently made her the most splendid presents of jewellery, plate, cashmere, etc. The furniture for her mansion had cost fifteen hundred pounds and all the bills were paid in her name. She was not extravagant, as women in her situation usually are, and therefore so far from incurring debts she saved money. We cannot say that the Earl of Warrington positively loved her. His first affections in life had experienced such a blight that he might almost be said to have been interred in the grave of defeated hopes and aspirations. He could therefore never love again, but he liked Mrs Arlington, and he had every reason to believe that she was faithful to him. He was charmed with her conversation and her manners. He saw in her a woman who gave herself no heirs, but, on the contrary, exerted herself in every way to please him. She never attempted to excite his jealousy, nor affected gusts of passion merely for the sake of asserting her independence or of proving the hold which he possessed over him. And in her society he forgot the cares of politics in which he was profoundly interested and all those other little annoyances real or imaginary to which everyone in this world is subject. Be his condition never so prosperous. And Diana was faithful to him. She was a woman naturally inclined to virtue. Circumstances had made her what she was. She looked upon the Earl of Warrington as a benefactor, and although she did not actually love him more than he loved her, she liked him upon pretty nearly the same principles that he liked her. Her vanity was flattered by having captivated and being able to retain a handsome man whose wealth and high rank rendered him an object of desire on the part of all ladies situated as was Diana. She moreover found him an agreeable companion, kind and indulgent, and thus their liaison continued upon a basis which nothing appeared to threaten, not even to weaken. They never spoke of love in reference to their connection. The Earl was never upon his knees at the feet of his mistress, nor did he repeat vows of constancy and fidelity every time he saw her. She acted on the same principle towards him. There was a great amount of real friendship and good feeling between those two, but not an atom of mortgaged sentimentality. The Earl could trust Diana. He consulted her upon many of his plans and proceedings, whether in regard to his political career or the management of his estate, and she invariably tended him the advice which appeared most consistent with his interests. He therefore placed the fullest confidence in her, and hence have we seen her carrying out all his generous plans with reference to Eliza Sidney. But to continue, Mrs Arlington was seated at breakfast as we have before stated, when a servant entered and informed her that Miss Sidney requested a few minutes conversation with her. Diana immediately ordered Eliza to be admitted. "'Pardon this early and unceremonious visit, my dear friend,' said Elsa, affectionately grasping the hand that was stretched out to welcome her. "'I'm always at home to you, Eliza,' answered the entrantress. "'But how pale you are! Come, sit down here, close by me, and tell me in what way I can be of service to you.' "'My dear friend,' continued Eliza, "'I have a secret to reveal to you, and a deed of infamy to narrate.' "'Oh, you alarm me, Eliza, has any harm happened to yourself?' "'No, thank heavens, the compunction of one man saved me from disgrace and ruin. "'But read this, it will explain all.' "'With these words Eliza handed to Mrs Arlington the letter which Stephens had thrust under the stair-carpet at the villa on the preceding evening. Diana perused the letter with attention, and a flush of indignation animated her fine countenance, and she thus made herself acquainted with the atrocious plot contrived by Greenwood against the honour of Eliza Sidney. "'Such is the villainy of George Montague,' cried Diana at the termination of the perusal of that letter. "'Forgive me, dearest friend,' said Eliza, taking the hand of Mrs Arlington and pressing it between her own. "'Forgive me if I have kept back one secret of my life from your knowledge. "'That George Montague!' I once loved him. "'You!' exclaimed Mrs Arlington in surprise. "'Yes, Diana, I once loved that man before the fatal exposure which led to my imprisonment. But he behaved like a villain. He endeavoured to take advantage of my affection, and I smothered the feeling in my bosom. "'Oh, you did well! You did well thus to triumph over a passion which would have been fatal to your happiness, for never would your hopes have been fulfilled. "'With honour to yourself,' added Mrs Arlington, sinking her voice almost to a whisper. "'Alas, you are right. I stood upon the brink of a precipice. I escaped, but Montague, or Greenwood, whichever he may choose to call himself, pursues me with a view of accomplishing my dishonour. "'The crimes of that man are unlimited, and his perseverance is unwirry,' said Diana. "'What plan can I adopt?' demanded Eliza, to escape his machinations. What system can I pursue to avoid his persecution? Conceived my affright, when upon waking this morning I remembered that I had not retired to bed last evening of my own accord, that I could think of nothing that had occurred since suppertime. Then I found that the bell-rope in my sleeping-room was cut, and that a weapon which I have been in the habit of keeping beneath my pillow ever since I first dwelt in the villa had disappeared. "'Oh, I was alarmed,' I shuddered, although it was broad daylight, and everything was calm and silent around. At length I summoned the servant, and she entered, bearing a letter, which he had discovered a few moments before, beneath the seer-carpet. The letter is the one you read ere now, and it explained all. Tell me, tell me, Diana, how am I to avoid the persecution and combat the intrigues of this man?' "'I last, my dear friend,' replied Mrs Arlington, after a few minutes' consideration. "'I know of no effectual method save that of leaving London. "'And if I leave London, I will leave England,' said Miss Sydney, "'but I can do nothing without the consent of him to whom I am under such deep obligations.' "'You mean the Earl of Warrington?' observed Mrs Arlington. "'I admire the sentiment of gratitude which animates you. "'The Earl will do all he can to forward your views and contribute to your happiness. "'With me, Eliza, here, at least you are safe. "'And I will immediately write a note to the Earl and request him to call upon me without delay. "'His lordship will be perhaps annoyed. "'Fear nothing, Eliza. "'I will see the Earl in another room and let not this disinclination to meet you on his part cause you pain. "'You well know the motive of his conduct, the memory of your mother. "'I am well aware he can have no antipathy towards me on my own account,' interrupted Eliza. "'Else he could not have acted toward me in a way which claimed all my gratitude.' Mrs Arlington dispatched the note to Lord Warrington and then hastened to dress to receive him. "'In an hour the Earl arrived. "'He and Mrs Arlington were then closeted together for a considerable time. "'It was four o'clock when the nobleman took his departure and Diana returned to the room where she had left Eliza Sidney.' "'The Earl of Warrington,' said the enchantress whose countenance was animated with joy, "'has listened with attention to the tale of atrocity which I have related to him in respect to George Montague Greenwood. "'His lordship and myself, for he does me the honour to consult me, have debated upon the best means of ensuring your tranquility and safety, and we have decided that you have better quit England for a time. "'The perseverance of that bold, bad man, backed by his wealth, may succeed in affecting your ruin. "'You yourself remaining innocent of guilty participation. "'The Earl has recommended Italy as the country most likely to please you, and the more so because he himself possesses a charming villa in the state of Castel Cicala.' "'How kind of his lordship,' exclaimed Eliza, "'tears of gratitude starting into her eyes.' "'Some years ago,' continued Diana, "'the Earl set out upon a continental tour and passed two years at Montoni, the capital of the Grand Duchy of Castel Cicala. "'So charmed with he, with that delightful city, that he purchased a small estate in the suburbs with the idea of spending the summer from time to time amidst Italian scenery and beneath an Italian sky. "'The idea has, however, been displaced by others arising from new occupations and fresh interests, and for a long period as the villa at Montoni remained uninhabited, saved by an old porter and his wife. "'I situate upon the banks of the river, which flows through Montoni, and commands the most delicious views. "'That villa is to be your residence so long as it may be agreeable, and the Earl will make arrangements with his London bankers, so that your income may be regularly paid you by their agents at Montoni. "'His lordship has moreover instructed me to supply you with the necessary funds for your travelling expenses.' "'Oh, my dearest friend, how can I ever testify my gratitude? "'Not a word, not a word,' interrupted Mrs. Arlington, playfully closing Eliza's lips with her hand. "'The Earl conceives that he is performing a duty sacred to the memory of his deceased uncle, in thus caring for you who are the offspring of that uncle's daughter. "'And on my part, Eliza, on my part it is a pleasure to do you a service. "'But I have not yet finished. "'The Earl has gone straight to Richmond to call upon a certain Count Altaroni, a noble exile from the Grand Duchy of Castle Sicala, with whom it appears the Earl was acquainted in Italy. "'His object is to obtain for you a few letters of introduction to some of the best families of Montoni so that you may not want society. "'I shall live in so retired a manner,' said Eliza, that this additional act of kindness was scarcely necessary. "'The Earl will have his own way, and perhaps those letters may prove useful to you. "'You can tell,' exclaimed Mrs Arlington. "'But I must observe that I cannot think of parting with you any more until you leave England altogether. "'In three or four days the necessary preparations for your journey will be completed. "'Mean time, you must remain here as my guest. "'The Earl himself recommended this step. "'That is,' added Mrs Arlington, "'if my house be agreeable to you and my society. "'Oh, how can you entertain a doubt on that head?' cried Eliza, embracing Diana with the most grateful fervour. "'Ah, it is but a few hours since I said how happy I should be to call you by the endearing name of sister. "'And would you not blush, Eliza, to call me your sister?' said Mrs Arlington, in a tone deeply affected. "'Blush to call you my sister,' exclaimed Miss Sydney, as if she repelled the idea with indignation. "'Oh, no, never, never. "'You are the most noble hearted of women, and as such I love, I revere you. "'We will then be sisters in England We will then be sisters in heart, although not in blood,' said Diana, warmly returning her friends' embrace, and perhaps our affection towards each other will be more sincere than that existing between many who are really the offspring of the same parents. Mrs Arlington gave directions to her servant that she was not at home to a soul save the Earl of Warrington, and the ride in the park, the shopping, the theatre in the evening, all were sacrificed by Diana to the pleasure of Eliza's society. Mrs Sydney dispatched a note to the villa at Upper Clapton, announcing her intention of staying a few days with Mrs Arlington. In the evening, Louisa, who had just returned from the journey on which the pictitious letter written by Stevens had sent her, made her appearance in Dover Street, with clothes, etc., for her mistress, and she then received instructions relative to the intended departure for the Continent. End of Chapter 51 Chapter 52 of The Mysteries of London 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 Dave Wills The Mysteries of London Chapter 52 The Bed of Sickness Return we to the dwelling of Richard Markham on the same day that Eliza Sydney sought her friend Mrs Arlington as related in the preceding chapter. Richard awoke us from a long and painful dream. He opened his eyes, engaged vacantly around him. He was in his own bed and Whittingham was seated by his side. The Lord be praised! Ejaculated the faithful old domestic and conceiving it necessary to quote scripture upon the occasion of this happy recovery, he uttered in a loud and solemn voice the first sentence which presented itself to his memory. My tongue is the pen of a ready writer! How long have I been ill? Whittingham demanded our hero in a faint tone. Four blessed days have yon been devoided of your sensations, Master Richard! was the reply. And most disastrous was my fears that you would never be effervescent. No more. I have sustained my vigils by day and my diaries by night at your bedside, Master Richard. And I may say without mitigating against truth that I haven't had my garments off my back since you was first brought home. Indeed, Whittingham, I am deeply indebted to you, my good friend, said Richard, pressing the faithful old domestic's hand. But have I really been so very ill? Ill? exclaimed Whittingham. For these four days you have never opened your eyes save into lyrium until this moment. But you have been a ravaging in your dreams and sobbing and moaning so. I suppose, Master Richard, you have the most remotest idea of how you come home again. Not in the least, Whittingham. All I recollect was running along the Richmond Road in the middle of the night with a whirlwind in my brain. And you must have fallen down from sheer fatigue, interrupted the butler, for two drovers picked you up and took you to a cottage close by. The people at a cottage searched your pockets and found your card. So they sent off a messenger to your own house and I went in a poche and fished your own. And have I been ill for four whole days? Yes, but you don't know yet what has happened during that period," said the butler with a solemn shake of the head. Tell me all the news, Whittingham. Let me know what has passed during my illness. I'll repeat to you, arogolically, all that's incurred," resumed Whittingham, preparing to enumerate the various incidents upon his fingers. In the first place let me see. It was the first incurrence of any consequence. An old sow littered. That, I only go to first. Then come a terrible buffoon, a typhoon, I mean, and down tumble the eastern stack of jemblies. That's any goat as sickoed. Third, the young watercress gal was confined with an unlegitimated child and so I told her mother never to let her call here again as we didn't encourage immoral characters. That, I only go to third. Next, there our poor Ben Alliday who wouldn't pay the pavement rate a whole away, because he hasn't got any pavement before his house. Sold up, stick and stop, and so I gave him a couple of guineas. I only go to fourth. And last of all, a gentleman's livery servant, not that villain Yorkminsters, or is it whatever his name was, come with an horse and shy, and left your poke-menty without saying a word. That's any— My poor Manto, exclaimed Richard, whose countenance was now suddenly animated with a ray of hope, and have you unpacked it? Not yet, or I haven't had no time. Bring it to the bedside, place it upon a couple of chairs and open it at once, said Markham hastily. Bestow yourself good-wittingly. Any note, any letter, any— While Richard uttered these words with a considerable degree of impatience, the butler dragged the portmanteau from beneath the bed, where he had deposited it, and placed it close to his master's right hand. It was speedily opened, unpacked, and examined throughout. The clothes and linen were unfolded, and Richard's eyes followed the investigation with the most painful curiosity. But there was no letter, no note from any inmate of the Count's abode. A sudden reminiscence entered his mind. Was the document signed at the dark house among his papers? He recollected having handed it to the Count, but he could not call to mind what had afterwards become of it. A moment's examination convinced him that it had not been returned to him. At first he was grievously annoyed by this circumstance. In another minute he was pleased, for it struck him that after all his contents might have been perused by the Count and his family when the excitement of that fatal night had worn off. But how to wipe away the dread suspicion raised by the resurrection man relative to the burglary? Oh, that was the most painful, yet the most necessary task of all. Margot sat back upon his pillow, and was lost in thought when a low knock was heard before of his chamber. Whittingham answered it and introduced Mr. Monroe. The old man was the very picture of care and wretchedness. The mark of famine was, moreover, upon his sunken cheeks. His eyes were dead and lustrous. His neck, his wrists, and his hands scorned nothing but skin and bone. In spite of the cleanliness of his person the threadbare shabbiness of his clothes could not escape the eye of even the most superficial observer. Markham had not seen him for some months. And now, forgetting his own malady and his own cares, he felt shocked at the dreadful alteration wrought upon the old man's person during that interval. On his part Mr. Monroe was no less surprised to find Richard upon a bed of sickness. My dear sir, said Markham, you were real. You were suffering. And you do not come to me to— you have penetrated my secret, Richard, exclaimed the old man bitterly. Well, I will conceal the truth no longer. Yes, myself and my poor daughter we are dying by interest. My God! And you were too proud to come to me. Oh, how sincerely, how eagerly would I have offered you the half of all I possess. How could I come to you, Richard? Interrupted the old man, bursting into tears. What I had already ruined you. No, not you, not you, said Markham. You were the victim of a scoundrel. And in acting for the best, you lost all. God knows how truly you speak, cried the old man fervently. But tell me, what ails you? And how long have you been upon a bed of sickness? A day or two. It is nothing, never mind me. I am now well at all events much better. Let us talk of yourself and your own affairs. My fate, Richard, is a melancholy one. My destiny is sad, indeed. From the pinnacle of wealth and prosperity I have been gashed down to the lowest abyss of destitution and misery. But it's not for myself that I complain. It's not for myself that I suffer. I am by this time enured to every kind of disappointment and privation. But my daughter, my poor Eleanor, God, it was for her sake that I came through this morning to implore the wear-with to purchase a loaf of bread. Masterful heavens, Mr. Monroe, are you reduced to this? cried Richard. Horror struck at the piteous tale thus conveyed to him in a few words. It is true. We are starving. answered the old man, sinking into a chair and sobbing bitterly. Whitting him, walked towards the window with his eyes more than once. Ah! I am glad you came to me at last, said Markham. I will assist you to the utmost of my power. I will never let you want again. That villain, Montague, how many hearts has he already broken? How many more will he yet break? Here's the cause of all this deep, deep misery, observed Monroe. But not alone by me is his name mentioned with loothing and horror. Others have doubtless been and will yet be his victims. I have learnt by the nearest accident that he has changed his name and is now pursuing at the West End the same course he so successfully practised in the city. Changed his name? ejaculated Markham. And what does he call himself now? Greenwood. Answered Mr. Monroe. Greenwood. George Montague and Greenwood suddenly recalling to mind the name of the individual to whom the Count had entrusted his capital. Ah! You talk of new victims? I know one who's ruin is perhaps by this time consummated. Quick, quick, Wittingham, give me writing materials. I will send a warning, although I'm afraid it is already too late. While Wittingham was arranging his master's portfolio upon the cover lid of the bed, Markham reflected upon the best means of communicating to Count Altaroni the character of the man to whom he had confided his fortune, and whom he thought of favourably as a suitor for his daughter's hand. Anonymous letters were detestable to the honourable and open disposition of Richard, and he hesitated at the idea of sending a note direct from himself, fearing that it might be thrown into the fire the moment its signature should be perceived and thus fail in its proposed aim. The call upon the Count was impossible to send Mr Munro was disagreeable. To communicate the important intelligence was imperiously necessary, but how was it to be conveyed? An idea struck across his brain in this perplexity. He would write to the Countess and trust to the natural curiosity of the female disposition to ensure the perusal of his letter. He accordingly penned the ensuing epistle. Madam, although culminated in the presence of Count Alteroni, without being permitted to justify myself, and although ruined in your estimation without the freedom of explanation, believe me, I have still the welfare of your family most sincerely at heart. As a proof of this assertion allow me to inform you that the Mr Greenwood to whom Count Alteroni has entrusted his capital is an adventurer and a villain. I on several occasions casually mentioned to you that I was plundered of all my property before I became of an age entitled to enjoy it. My guardian, Mr Munro, employed a certain Mr Allen to speculate for him, and this Mr Allen was mercilessly robbed of all he possessed, and all he could raise, and all his friends who backed him could provide him with by a miscreant by the name of Montague. The particulars which I never mentioned to you before, I now deem it requisite to acquaint you with. Madam, that same George Montague is your Mr Greenwood. I remain, Madam, your obedient servant Richard Markham. This letter was dispatched that same evening to Richmond. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Dave Wills The Mysteries of London by George Reynolds Chapter 53 Accusations and Explanations It was seven o'clock in the evening. Count Alteroni was sipping his claret. The Countess was sitting in a pensive and melancholy mood apparently occupied with some embroidery or other fancy work but in reality, bent only upon her own painful reflections. The air of this charming girl was languishing and sorrowful, and from time to time a tear started into her large black eye. That crystal drop upon the jet fringe of her eyelid seemed like the dew hanging on the ebony frame of a window. The delicate hue of the rose which usually colored her cheeks and appeared, as it were, beneath the complexion of a faint vista which denoted her Italian origin had fled, and her sweet familial lips were no longer wreathed in smiles. Isabel, my love said the Count, you were thoughtful this evening. What a silly girl you are to oppose the tyrannical little will of your own to my anxious orbs and wishes for your welfare, especially as I must and know so much better than you what is for your good and what is not. I think, answered Isabella with a deep sigh, that I oppose no tyrannical will to your lordship's commands. Lordship's commands? repeated the Count somewhat angrily. Have I not ordered our rank and station to be forgotten here in England and as for commands of Ella and the noblemen's softening, I have merely expressed to my wish that you should give Mr. Greenwood an opportunity of proving his disinterested affection and securing your esteem, especially on the occasion of our approaching visit to our friends at the Maradins. My dear papa, answered the Senora, I have faithfully promised you that if Mr. Greenwood should bring my affections, he shall not sue in vain for my hand. Ah, that is a species of compromise which I do and not understand, exclaimed the Count, of you any particular aversion to him. I have no aversion, but I certainly have no love, replied Isabella firmly, and where there is not love, dear father, you would not have me wed? As for love, said the Count, evading a direct reply to this query. Time invariably thaws away those esterna resolves and objections which young ladies sometimes choose to entertain in opposition to the wishes of their parents. My lord, I have no power over a volition, exclaimed Isabella, with difficulty restraining her tears. This is very provoking, Isabella, very, said the Count, drinking his claret with rapidity. This man is in every way worthy of you, rich, a gentile, and a good-looking. As for his rank, it is true that he has no title, but of what avail to us are rank and title, exiled as we are of a mara native lander. Oh, my dear father, cried Isabella, wiping her eyes, do not fancy so ill of me as to suppose that I languish for rank or care for honour. No, let me either possess that title, which is a reflection of your own, when in Casta Sicala, or let me be plain Senora Isabella in a foreign land. Pomp and banishment, pride and exile are monstrous incongruities. Not as spoken like my own dear daughter, exclaimed the Count. The sorrows of my own lot are mitigated by the philosophy and firmness with which you and your dear mother support are a change of fortunes. On the last I see but a little chance of another reaction in our favor. Oh, my dear country, shall I ever see thee more? Will to thou one day recognise those who really love thee? A profound silence ensued. Neither of the ladies chose to interrupt the meditations of the patriot, and he himself rose and paced the room with annotated steps. And it is of this despair when I contemplate my future prospects continued the nobleman after a long pause, that induces me to wish to see you speedily settled and provided for my dearest Isabella. What other motive can I have about your good? Oh, I know it, I know it, my dear father, cried the charming girl, and it is that conviction which makes me wretched when I think how reluctant I am to obey you in this instance. But do not grieve yourself, my dear father, and do not be angry with me. I will be as civil and friendly as I can to this Mr. Greenwood, and if and if the beautiful Italian could say no more. Her heart was full almost to bursting, and throwing herself into her mother's arms, she wept bitterly. The count who was passionately attached to his daughter was deeply affected and greatly shocked by this demonstration of her feelings. He had flattered himself that her repugnance to Mr. Greenwood was far from being deeply rooted and was merely the result of a young girl's fears and anxieties when she found that she was not romantically attached to her suitor. But he little suspected that she cherished a sincere and tender passion for another, a passion which she might essay in vain to conquer. Beller, my darling, he exclaimed, do not give away to grief. You cannot think that I would have sacrificed you to gold, mere gold? No, never, never. Consol yourself. You shall never be dragged a victim to the altar. My dearest father, cried Isabella turning towards the count and embracing him fondly, God who reads all my actions knows that I would make any sacrifice to please you, to spare you one pang, to forward your views. Oh, believe me, I am too well aware of the deep responsibility under which I exist towards my parents, too deeply imbued with gratitude for all your kindness towards me, not to be prepared to obey your wishes. I will extract no sacrifice, dearest girl, said the count, come oppose yourself and do not weep. At that moment, a loud double knock at the front door resounded through the house and scarcely had Isabella recovered her self-possession when Mr. Greenwood was announced. Ladies, excuse this late visit, said the financier, sailing into the room with his countenance wreathed into the blandest smiles. But the truth is I had business in the neighbourhood and I could not possibly pass without stopping for a few moments at a mansion where there are such actions. These last words were addressed pointedly to Isabella who only replied to the compliment by a cold bow. Can't, said Mr. Greenwood, now turning towards the nobleman. I have not seen you since our adventure upon the highway, but I was delighted to learn that you had received no injury. My only regret is that I did not shoot the villains. Answered the count, have you had another deed prepared to replace the one stolen from me on occasion? I have given my solicitors the necessary instructions. Answered Mr. Greenwood, in a few days everything with you is in a few days, Greenwood. Interrupted the count somewhat pointedly. That a deed would not occupy one a title in gross, but now that the copy is at your attorney's office and it would have been a mark of goodwill on your part. They do not blame me! exclaimed the financier, smiling so as to display his very white teeth, of which he seemed not a little proud. I believe that for a man with business upon his hands and the interest of so many to watch and care for, I am as punctual to my appointments as most people. I do not speak of want of punctuality in keeping appointments, said the nobleman, but I allude to the neglect of a matter which to you may appear at reveal, but which to me is of importance. Oh, my dear count, we will repair this little error tomorrow, or the next day," answered Mr. Greenwood. I wish that everybody was as regular and as punctual with me as I endeavour to be with others, and that punctuality on my part, my dear sir, has been the origin of my fortune. I do not like to speak of myself, ladies. I hate egotism, but, well, he added with another smile. When one is attacked, you know? At that moment a domestic enter the room and handed a letter to the countess, who immediately opened it, glanced towards the signature and exclaimed almost involuntarily, from Richard Markham. Richard Markham? cried Mr. Greenwood. I thought I understood you that that gentleman had ceased to visit or correspond with you. So I said, and so I shall amantine, exclaimed the count. My dear, we will return of that letter to you. But I have already commenced the perusal of it. Said the countess, without taking her eyes off the paper. Then, read no more. cried the count angrily. Excuse me. I shall read it all. answered the countess significantly. And so will you. What means there, sir? ejaculated the count. Have I lost all authority of my own answer? Madame, I command you. Then I implore you to read it yourself. These contents are highly important and do not in any way relate to certain recent events. Indeed, he has purposely avoided anything which may appear obtrusive, either in the shape of explanation or apology. The count took the letter with a very ill grace, and requested Mr. Greenwood's permission to read it. This was, of course, awarded, and the nobleman commenced the perusal. He had not, however, read many lines before he gave a convulsive start and looked mistrustfully upon Mr. Greenwood, who noticed his emotion and hastily ran his eye over the remainder of the letter's contents. He then folded up the letter and appeared to be absorbed in deep thought for several moments. Mr. Greenwood saw that the note bore some allusion to himself and prepared his mind for any explanation or any storm. The countess sat pale and unhappy in deep meditation, and the eyes of Isabella wandered anxiously from one to the other. At length, the count, in a tone which showed with how much difficulty he suppressed an outbreak of his irritated feelings, turned abruptly towards Mr. Greenwood, exclaiming, How long is it since you were acquainted with one John Germantigu? Mr. Greenwood was not taken at all aback. This was a question to which he was always liable and for which he was constantly prepared. He accordingly answered with his usual smile of complacence in the following manner. Oh, my dear sir, I presume you're acquainted with the fact that my name was once Montigu, since you asked me that question. I may also suppose that someone has communicated that circumstance to you with a desire to prejudice me in your opinion, but I can assure you that I have not changed my name for any sinister purpose. My only motive was the request of an old lady who left me a considerable property some time ago upon that condition. And you can also explain, perhaps, the Niger of your dailings with a certain Mr. Allen, demanded the count, staggered at the assurance with which Mr. Greenwood met an accusation that the nobleman imagined would have overwhelmed him with confusion. Yeah, my dear sir, replied the financier, very far from betraying any embarrassment whatever he might have felt. I can explain that in every other action of my life. I was myself misled. I was jubed. I was involved in an enterprise which entailed ruin upon myself and all connected with me. I suffered along with the others and gave up all to the creditors. I have, however, been enabled to build up my fortunes again by means of the property left to me and a series of successful operations. All people in commercial and financial affairs are liable to disappointment and embarrassment. The most cautious may over speculate or miscalculate and how can I be blamed more than another? I will admit that a particular enterprise may fail, said the count. But the writer of this letter explained to me on one or two occasions enough to enable me to comprehend the whole machinery of fraud which you put into motion to obtain money from the public. And though he never mentioned any names until today in his letter I might, every man has his enemies, said Mr. Greenwood calmly. I cannot hope to be without nine. They may assert what they choose. Upright and impartial men never listened to one-sided statements. But perhaps the writer of that letter is the Mr. Markham of whom I have often spoken to you and concerning whom you were always asking me a question. I could not conceive, proceeded the count, why you were so curious to pry into his affairs. Especially as when I mentioned you to him by the name of Greenwood he did not seem to know anything about you. But I can now well understand why you should wish to know something of a man whom you ruined. I ruined? cried Mr. Greenwood now excited for the first time since the commencement of this dialogue and speaking with an air of unfaigned astonishment. There must be some mistake in this. I never had any dealings with him in my life which could either cause his ruin or establish his prosperity. You took a very good care it would appear not to do the latter, said the count. But probably Mr. Markham's letter will explain to you that which you appear to have forgotten. Count Alteroni handed the letter to Mr. Greenwood who perused its contents with intense interest and anxiety. Count, the Countess and the Signora watched his countenance as he read it. Proficient in the art of duplicity as he was skilled in all the wiles of hypocrisy and deceit he could not conceal his emotions now. There was something in that letter which chased the colour from his cheeks and convulsed his whole frame with extreme agony. This is indeed singular he murmured turning the letter over and over in his hand. Who would have suspected that Alan was merely an agent? Who could have seen where that blow was to strike? Strange, unaccountable concatenation of unfortunate circumstances. Is the writer of that letter correct in his statement? Demanded the Count imperiously. The information given to you by Mr. Markham relative to the losses experienced by a certain Mr. Alan is correct. Returned Mr. Greenwood apparently labouring under considerable excitement. But I take my God to witness that until this moment I was unaware that either Mr. Monroe or Mr. Markham were in the remotest way connected with that affair. And I also solemnly protest that I would have given worlds sooner than have been the means of injuring either of them. You would admit then that you defrauded the people who at that time missed their funds in your answer? Said the Count. I admit nothing of the kind. Returned the financier, now recovering his presence of mind. I admit nothing so base as your insiduation implies. Then wherefore were you so agitated when you perused that letter from Mr. Richard Markham? Count Alter Rowney. I am not aware that I owe you any explanation of my own private feelings. It is true I was agitated when I am still deeply grieved to think that my want of judgment and foresight in a certain speculation should have resulted in the ruin of those I wish well. But I suffered as well as they. I lost many thousands as they did. Continued Mr. Greenwood passing once more into that system of plausible, specious and deceptive reasoning which lulled so many suspicions and closed the eyes of so many persons and led to his real character. And although I have done nothing for which I can be blamed by the world I may still reproach myself when I find that others whom I care for have suffered by my speculations. The count was staggered at this expression an honourable manifestation of feeling on the part of one whom he had a few minutes ago begun to look upon as a selfish adventurer, callous to all humane emotions and philanthropic sentiments. Mr. Greenwood continued when that unfortunate speculation of mine took place I was not so experienced in the sinuosities of the commercial and financial worlds as I am now. I lost my all and poverty stared me in the face. Mr. Greenwood's voice faltered although he was now once more uttering a tissue of falsehood. But by dint of some good fortune and hard toll and unwearyed application to business I retrieved my circumstances. Now answer me candidly, Count Alteroni. Is there anything dishonourable in my career? Will you judge a man upon an ex-party's statement? Is not one story very good until another be told? Why, if all persons view their affairs constantly in the same light would there be any business for the civil tribunals? Do the plaintiff and defendant invariably survey the point at issue between them under discrepant aspects? If they did not wherefore do they go to law? Do you allow Mr. Markham and Mr. Monroe to entertain their views? Do you also permit me to enjoy mine? Mr. Greenwood said the Count I am afraid I have been too severe now even a rude in my observations. You will forgive me? Sir, say not another word! ejaculated the financier chuckling inwardly at the triumphant victory which he had thus gained over the suspicions of the Italian nobleman. At that moment a servant entered the room and informed Count Alteroni that the Earl of Warrington was in the drawing room and requested an interview at which his lordship would not detain the Count above ten minutes. The Count having desired Mr. Greenwood not to depart until his return and apologizing for his temporary absence proceeded to the drawing room where the Earl of Warrington awaited him. The Earl rose when the Count entered the apartment and that proud, wealthy and high-born English peer wore an air of profound respect and deference as he returned the salutation of the Italian exile. Your lordship said the Earl of Warrington with my help pardoned this intrusion at Sir Unseemne and I. The Earl of Warrington is always a welcome interrupted Count Alteroni and if I cannot give him so princely a reception in England as I was proud to do in Italy it is my means and not my will which is the cause. My lord, I beseech you not to allude to any discrepancy in that respect a discrepancy which I can regret and not for myself, said the Earl. Indeed, I am so far selfish on the present occasion that I am come to ask a favour. Name of the matter in which my poorer services can avail your lordship, returned the Count and I pledge myself in advance to meet your wishes. My lord, said the Earl of Warrington, I must inform your lordship that I am somewhat interested in the cousin of mine of the name of Eliza Sidney. This lady loved a man who was unworthy of her a wretch whose pursuits are villainy and who enriches himself at the expense of the unwary and confiding. The heartless scoundrel to whom I allude and the full measure of whose infamy was only expressed to me this day has endeavored to possess himself of the person of Eliza in a manner the most atrocious and kindly. My lord, he employed a confederate to administer soporific drugs to her but Providence moved that confederate's heart and frustrated the damnable scheme. I can't such calm that go unpunished in this land of excellent laws and unerring justice inquired the Count. Ah, my lord, replied the Earl, this man is possessed of great wealth and consequent of great influence but in England money is power. Moreover, the complete chain of evidence is wanting and then exposure to the female in such a case is almost equal to a stigma and to shame. To continue my brief tale, my lord, this man with the demon heart is one who will persecute my cousin Eliza to the very death. A lady of my acquaintance who can also tell a tale of the unequaled villainy of this George Montague Greenwood What? he ejaculated the Count. Do I hear a right or do my ears deceive me? What a name did you give the miscreant who administered opiate drugs to a woman with the foulest of motifs. George Montague Greenwood repeated the Earl. Oh, God! ejaculated the Count sinking back in his chair and covering his face with his hands. I thank thee for thou hast intervened ere it was later to prevent that fearful sacrifice of my daughter. Pardon me, my lord, exclaimed the Earl, if I have awakened any disagreeable reminiscences or produced impressions, your lordship has done me an infinite service in fully opening my eyes to the villainy of a man whose dominable sophistry glosses over his crimes with so deceptive a varnish that the sight is dazzled and conductive. As the Count uttered these words he wrung the hands of the English pier with the most friendly and grateful warmth. Another time, my lord, continued the Italian noble, I will explain it to you the cause of my present emotions. You will then perceive how confirmed a miscreant is this Greenwood. In the meantime, tell me, how can I aid your lordship? continued the Earl of Warranted, that Miss Sidney, alarmed and appalled at the persecution of this man who seems to spare neither expense nor crime to accomplish any purpose upon which he has once set his mind, has determined to sojourn for a time upon the continent. Your lordship is aware that I possess a humble villain in the suburbs of Montoni, a beautiful residence on the contrary, said the Count, and where, he added with his eye, in up-ear times, I have a partaken of your arsepitality. Yes, your lordship has honoured me with your society of that retreat, said the Earl, with a low and deferential bow. It is to that villa that I now propose to dispatch my cousin in order that she may escape the persecutions and the plots of this vile Greenwood. The object of my present visit is to solicit your lordship for a few letters of introduction for Miss Sidney to some of those families in Montoni, with whom she may experience the charms of profitable and intellectual society. With the much pleasure, answered the Count, when it does Miss Sidney propose to leave England, the day after tomorrow, my lord, tomorrow evening your lordship shall receive the letters which Miss Sidney requires. They will, of course, be unsealed, both in observance of the rules of etiquette and on the count of the custom house officers in the continental states. But your lordship will take care that they need not to be opened in England. I comprehend you, my lord. The incognito which your lordship chooses to preserve in this country shall not be disturbed by any indiscretion on the part of myself, all of those connected with me. The Earl of Warrington then took his leave. The moment he had departed, the Count rang the bell and said to the servant to answer the summons, Mr. Greenwood, to fiver me with his accompany into this room here. In another minute the financier was introduced into the saloon which the Count was pacing with uneven and agitated steps. Mr. Greenwood said the Italian nobleman, I think you recollect the subject of our conversation when I was called away by the visit of the Earl of Warrington. Perfectly, answered the financier who perceived that there was again something wrong. I remember that you made many accusations against me, all of which I most satisfactorily explained, mean so much that you very handsomely apologize for the severity of your language. Then, sir, continued the Count, with difficulty restraining his impatience while Mr. Greenwood thus delivered himself, if a you be really such an honorable and such an angeled man as you would represent and if you be really grieved when you hear that a fellow creature has been ruined by the failure of your speculations ever the kindness to return to me the money which I have confided to you and I shall be inclined to think of you as you choose to think of yourself. To tell the truth, I am already sick of the uncertainty of speculation and I would rather withdraw from the anthropolizer altogether. Fairly, my dear sir, said Mr. Greenwood, this demand is so very regular so exceedingly un-business-like. We will not apply it upon the footing of business, sir, interrupted the Count emphatically. We will apply it upon the basis of honor. Honor and business with me, my dear sir, are synonymous, said the financier with a smile. So much of that, ejaculated the Count. I see that we shall not dispute over this matter. The all is summed up in a few words and it down to me the money I have applied in your hands. These things cannot be done in a hurry, my dear sir, said Mr. Greenwood, playing with a very handsome gold guard chain which fastened over his waistcoat. Either you have, by the way, with my money or you have it in your possession still, exclaimed the Count. If you have it, give me a jerk upon your banker for the amount. If you have placed it out at interest, give me security. I must observe to you that the whole proceeding is most irregular, said Mr. Greenwood, and the business requires mature reflection. Moreover, all my funds are locked up for the moment. Then how would you carry out the enterprise for which I embarked my capital, demanded the Count. You must be aware, replied the financier, that capitalists like me always lay out their cash to the greatest advantage and make use of bills and negotiable paper of various descriptions. Thus I could build a dozen steam packets in a few weeks and pay for them all without actually encroaching upon my capital. I understand you, sir, said the Count, and in order to meet your convenience I am ready to receive the securities you mention by a bullet early dice instead of Speezy. Oh, well! That alters the question, cried Mr. Greenwood, an idea apparently striking him at that moment. I am acquainted with one of the richest bankers in London, intimately acquainted with him. Would you have any objection for him to take my place in respect to you and become the holder of your capital, say, for a period of six months? Who is the banker? James Tomlinson answered the financier. I know that name well. Are you serious in your proposal? Call me tomorrow at twelve o'clock and we will proceed together to Mr. Tomlinson's banking house in the city. I would have the whole affair arranged for you in the course of an hour after our arrival at his establishment. I'd rely upon your word, Mr. Greenwood, returned the Count. The financier then took his departure. End of Chapter 53 Recorded by Dave Wills Chapter 54 of The Mysteries of London 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 Dave Wills The Mysteries of London by George Reynolds Chapter 53 The Banker The native of London is as proud of the city as if it were his own property. He can afford to be called a cockney for having been born within the sound of bow bells. For there are merchant princes and the peers and monopolies of the commerce of the world who bear the nickname as well as he. And well may the Londoner be proud of his city in numerous respects. He is the greatest and the most powerful that the world has ever seen. The dingy back parlours in Lombard Street, the upstairs business rooms in Cheepside, and the warehouses with shutters half up the windows in Wood Street and its neighbourhood are the mysterious places in which the springs of the finance and trade of a mighty empire are set in motion. Half a dozen men in the city can command in an hour more wealth than either Rome or Babylon had to boast of at the respective periods of their greatest prosperity. And neither Rome nor Babylon possessed drapers who cleared their 50,000 a year by selling gowns and shawls, nor sugar bakers with a million in hard cash, nor grocers with a plum in each hand, nor brewers to whom the rise or fall of one apony per pot in the price of beer makes the difference of 40,000 pounds per annum. Rome, Babylon, Thebes and Carthage could all have been purchased by the East India Company with perhaps a mortgage on the India Docks. But the reader must not imagine that all which glitters is gold. Amongst the most splendid establishments in London and those most wealthy in appearance, there are some in a hopeless state of insolvency. To one of these we shall now introduce those who may choose to accompany us thither. The well-known banking house of James Tomlinson was situated in Lombard Street. The establishment was not extensive nor were there a great many clerks because it did little agency business for country banks but was chiefly a house of deposit. It enjoyed a high reputation and was considered as safe as the presumed wealth, integrity and experience of its proprietor were likely to render it. It was moreover believed that the father of James Tomlinson was a sleeping partner and as the old gentleman had retired from the business of oilman with an immense fortune the bank was presumed to possess every guarantee of stability. It had existed for upwards of sixty years having been founded and most successfully carried on by an uncle of James Tomlinson. James himself had originally entered the establishment as a clerk whence he chose to be a partner and finally found himself at the head of the concern at his uncle's death. James Tomlinson was not an extravagant man but he was not possessed of the ability and experience for which the world gave him credit. In the year 1826 and at the age of forty he found himself at the head of a flourishing and respectable establishment. He was indeed the sole proprietor for his father was in reality totally unconnected with it as a partner. James was intimately acquainted with the mechanical routine of the bank business but he was deficient in those powers of combination and faculties of foresight which were necessary to enable him to lay out to the best advantage the money is deposited in his hands. With good intentions he lacked talent. He was an excellent head clerk or junior partner but he was totally fitted for supreme management. Thus was it that in two or three years he experienced serious reverses and although he carefully concealed the failure of his operations from all human eyes the very safety of his establishment was seriously compromised. The French Revolution of 1830 ruined a Paris house to which Tomlinson had advanced a considerable sum and this blow consummated the insolvency of his bank. He was then compelled to make a confident of his cashier an old and faithful servant of his uncle and of frugal habits and kind but eccentric disposition. Michael Martin was this individual's name. He was a very repulsive appearance, stooping in his gait, blear-eyed and dirty in person. He took vast quantities of snuff but as much lodged upon his shirt-frill and waistcoat as was thrust up his nose. Thus his linen was invariably filthy in the extreme. His dress was a suit of seedy black and the right thigh of his trousers was brown and grimy with the marks of snuff for upon that part of his attire did he invariably wipe his finger and thumb after taking a pinch of his brown rapide. Such was the individual who Tomlinson took into his confidence when the affairs of the bank Old Martin was as close and reserved as if he were both deaf and dumb and he was moreover possessed of a peculiar craftiness and cunning which admirably fitted him for the part he was now to enact. Although it was next to impossible to retrieve the affairs of the bank so great was the deficiency still Michael Martin assured his master that it was quite probable that they might be enabled to carry on the establishment for a length of time perhaps even many years. The chances that the drafts upon the bank would not equal the deposits being in their favor. Thus was this insolvent and ruined establishment carried on with seeming respectability and success by the perseverance of Tomlinson and the skill and craft of Old Martin. We shall now introduce our readers into the parlour of the bank at ten o'clock in the morning after the incidents related in the preceding chapter. James Tomlinson had just arrived and was standing before the fire glancing over the city article of the Times. He was a fine, tall, good-looking man plainly dressed and without the slightest affectation either in manner or attire. The bluntness and the parent straightforwardness of his character had won and secured him many friends amongst a class of men who regard frankness of disposition and kindness of demeanour as qualities indicative of solidity of position and regular habits of business. Then he was always at his post always to be seen and hence unlimited confidence was placed in him. Having glanced over the newspaper which he held in his hand he rang the bell. A clerk responded to the summons This must of Martin can be heard. Yes, sir. The cashier entered the room the door of which he carefully closed. Good morning, Michael, said the banker. What news? Worse and worse, answered the old man with the species of savage grunt. We have had a sad time of it for the last three months. For the last seven or eight years you may see, observed Tomlinson with a sigh, and then his countenance suddenly wore an expression of ineffable despair as effervescent as it was pointed. At first the work was easy enough, said Michael. A little combination and tact enabled us to struggle on. But laterally the concern has fallen into so desperate a condition that I really fear when I come in the morning that it will never last through the day. Thank God, my God, what a life! exclaimed Tomlinson. And there are hundreds and fusions who pass off the street every day and who see within themselves how I wish I was deemed Tomlinson. Heavens! I would that I were a beggar on the street, a sweeper of a crossing, a pauper and a walker's. Calm! This is folly! interrupted the old cashier impatiently. We must go on to the end. What is the state of your book this morning? demanded the banker, putting the question with evident alarm almost amounting to horror. Three thousand four hundred pounds. Eighteen shillings in speachy, sixteen hundred and thirty-five in notes. Answered the cashier. How's that all? ejaculated Tomlinson. And this morning we have to pay Greenwood the two thousand pounds he lent me six weeks ago. We can't part with the money, said the cashier rudely. Greenwood now has a circumstance he does not bank and must give time. You know what Greenwood is, Michael, exclaimed the banker. If we are not punctual with him he will never lend us another shilling on what should we have done without him on several occasions. I know all that. But look at the interest he makes you pay, muttered the cashier. And look at the risky runs, added the banker. He finds it worth his while. I calculated the other day that we paid him three thousand pounds last year for interest only. We can't go on much longer at that rate. I had almost said that the sooner it ends the better, cried Tomlinson. What law trickery! What meanness! What abominable craft! How could he be compelled to resort to? Oh, if that affair with the Treasury three years ago had only turned up well, if we could have secured the operation we should have achieved all our losses. Enormous as they are. We should have built up the fortunes of the establishment upon a more solid foundation than ever. It was indeed a misfortune, observed the cashier, taking a huge pinch of snuff. And how the Chancellor of the Exchequer obtained his information about me at the eleventh hour, after all previous inquiries were known to be satisfactorily, continued Tomlinson, I never could conjecture. At that time the secret was confined to you and me and my father, to whom I communicated it. You remember, a mark letter which I wrote to him soliciting the fifty thousand pounds, which some saved a bank in that period, observed Michael. Lover shall I forget the day when I called at the Treasury for the decision of the Government relative to my proposal. Returned Tomlinson. The Functionary who received me said in so pointed a manner, Mr. Tomlinson, you have not dealt candidly with us relative to your true position. Your secret is known to us, but rest assured that although we decline any negotiation with you, we will not betray you. This announcement came upon me like a thunderous stroke. I was literally paralyzed. The Functionary added with a sort of triumphant and yet mysterious smile. There was not a secret connected with the true position of any individual, of any consequence in the city which escapes our knowledge. The Government, sir, is omniscient. God alone can divine the sources of this intimate acquaintance with things locked up as it were in one's own bosom, added the banker thoughtfully. And this is not the only case such secrets have been discovered by the Government, said the old cashier, again regaling his nose with a copious pinch of snuff. Yes, I myself have heard of other instances, observed the banker with a shut up. I have known great firms expend large sums of money to obtain particular information from Paris, Frankfurt and Madrid by means of couriers. And this information has been dispatched by letter to their agents in a pool in Manchester and elsewhere to answer certain commercial or financial purposes. Well, that information has been known to Government within a few hours and the Government broke her as a bought or sold stock accordingly. But how could the Government obtain that information, demanded Martin? Some treachery? No, impossible. The Government has cleaned its knowledge when every human precaution against treachery and fraud was adopted. Look at my own case, continued Tomlinson. You, my father and myself, alone knew my secret. On you I can reckon as a man can reckon upon his own self. My father was incapable of betraying me and I, of course, should not have divulged my own ruin. And yet the secret became known to the Government. I shudder, Michael, oh, I shudder when I think that we dwell in a country which wants its freedom. Yet whether exists the secret, dark and mysterious element of the most hideous despotism at this moment a clerk entered and informed the cashier that he was wanted in the public office. As soon as Michael had disappeared the banker walked up and down his parlour a prey to the most maddening reflections. There were but 5,000 pounds left in the safe. 2,000 were to be paid to Greenwood and every minute a check or two or three checks might be presented which would crush the bank at one blow. 180,000 pounds of liability Merman Tomlinson to himself and 5,000 pounds to meet it. Ah, little thought those who passed by the banking house at that moment what heart-felt horrible tortures were endured by the master of the establishment in his own parlour. At length Martin returned. His countenance never revealed any emotions, but he took snuff wholesale and that was a fearful omen. Well, said Tomlinson in a horse and hollow voice Olderman Phipps just drawn for 1,200 pounds and Colonel Brown for 800 replied the cashier 2,000 gone in a minute ejaculated the banker. You'll I pay any more? asked the cashier. Yes, pay up, pay up to the last farthing. Answered Tomlinson. An accident, a chance may save us as off times before and yet, me thinks, Michael, that we never stood so near the verge of ruin as we do today. Never, said the old man coldly. And is there no X expedient by which we can raise a few thousands or even a few hundreds for immediate wants? None did I know of. Returned Martin taking more snuff. At that moment Mr. Greenwood was announced and Michael withdrew from the parlour. You have called for your 2,000 pounds? said the banker after the usual interchange of civilities. Yes, I require that some particularly this morning. replied the financier. For I am pledged to pay 15,000 at twelve o'clock to count out a rony. This is very unfortunate, observed Tomlinson. I am literally in this position. Take the money and I must stop payment the next moment. That's agreeable, no doubt, said Greenwood. But the count is urgent and I cannot put him off. My God! cried Tomlinson. What can I do, Greenwood? My good friend! I know you are a wretch. I know you can raise any amount you choose. Pray do not push me this morning. What am I to do, my dear fellow? said the financier. I must satisfy this count and I really cannot manage without the 2,000. I could let you have them again in a fortnight. ejaculated the banker, clenching his fist. Tomorrow it might be too late. Can you suggest no plan? Can you devise no scheme? Let me keep these 2,000 pounds for six weeks longer, a month longer and ask me, ask me what you will. I am desperate. I will do anything you bid me. Tell me how I can satisfy this ravenous Italian said Greenwood and I will let you keep the money You see, you have to settle with this count for a 15,000 pounds inquired the banker. Greenwood nodded an affirmative and does he require it all in hard cash? No, he would take the security of any irresponsible person or apparently responsible person and did the financier with a significant smile. Payable in six months. Tomlinson appeared to reflect profoundly. His reverie was interrupted by the entrance of old Martin, taking snuff more vehemently than ever. The cashier whispered something in the banker's ear and then again retired. 750 more gone! cried Tomlinson. And now, Greenwood, there he means in the safe but a fraction more than your 2,000 pounds. Dictate your own terms. This was precisely the point to which the financier was anxious to arrive. Listen, he said, playing with the watch chain. This count-out to Rony will accept you as his debtor instead of me. Take the responsibility of me onto your own shoulders and I make you a present of the 2,000 pounds. What! ejaculated Tomlinson, in curreliability of 15,000 to this coat. Greenwood, you can never be serious. I was never more serious in my life. Returned the financier coolly. If you fail before the six months 15,000 more or less on your books will be nothing. If you contrive to carry on the establishment until the expiration of that period I will help you out of the dilemma. You are not reasonable. You are anxious to crush me at once, cried Tomlinson. Well, be it so, Mr. Greenwood, take your 2,000 pounds and leave you to put up a notice on your doors, eh? said Greenwood still playing with his watch chain. Ah, my God! Has it come to this? exclaimed the banker. Ruin, disgrace and beggary all in one day! But better than to submit to such tongues as those which you dictate! With these words he rang the bell violently. Old Martin immediately made his appearance. Mr. Martin, said Tomlinson, affecting a calmness which he was far from feeling bring 2,000 pounds for Mr. Greenwood. It can't be done! growled Michael, taking a huge pinch of snuff. Can't be done! ejaculated the banker. No! answered the old man doggedly. Just paid away 465 more. There isn't 2,000 in the safe. Tomlinson walked once up the room. Then turning to Greenwood he said, I will accept your proposal. Mr. Martin, he added, addressing the cashier, you can retire. I will settle this matter with Mr. Greenwood. The old man withdrew. When? Where? And how is this business to be arranged? demanded Tomlinson after a short pause. The Countess would call at my house at 12. I have left a note to request him to come on hither. You had then already arranged this matter in your mind? said the banker ironically. Certainly! answered Greenwood with his usual coolness. I knew you would relieve me of this obligation because I shall be enabled in return to afford you that assistance of which you stand so much in need. I must throw myself upon your generosity said Tomlinson. It is now 12. The Count will soon be here. Half an hour passed away and the Italian nobleman made his appearance. You see that I've kept my word, Count exclaimed Mr. Greenwood with an ironical smile of triumph. Mr. Tomlinson holds in his hands certain funds of mine which according to the terms of agreement between us he is to retain in his position and use for a period of six months and six days from the present day at an interest of four percent. If you, Count Altarboni, will be willing to accept a transfer of 15,000 pounds of such funds in Mr. Tomlinson's hands from my name to your own the bargain can be completed this moment. I cannot hesitate Mr. Greenwood said the Count to accept the guarantee of such a non-stability as the name of Mr. Tomlinson. Then all that remains to be done exclaimed the financier is for you to return me my acknowledgement for the amount specified and for Mr. Tomlinson to give you his in his place. Mr. Tomlinson has already received my written authority for the transfer. The business was settled as Mr. Greenwood proposed. The Count returned the financier his receipt and accepted one from the bank. Now that this has concluded, Count said Mr. Greenwood placing the receipt in his pocketbook I hope that our friendship will continue uninterrupted. Pardon me, sir. returned the Count his features assuming a stern expression All of thou, I am abound to admit that you have not wronged me in respect to Mane. You have dared to talk to me of my daughter who is innocence and purity itself. Count Altarboni began Mr. Greenwood I am not aware, silence, sir cried the Italian noble imperatively. I have but one word more to say. Circumstances have remute to me your profligate character and never can I be too thankful that my daughter should have asciped an alliance with a man who bribes his agents to administer opiate drugs to an unprotected female for the vilest of purpose. Mr. Domlinson, and if the Count pardon me for having used such a language in your apartment and in your presence Count Altarboni bowed politely to the banker and darting a withering glance of mingle contempt and indignation upon the abashed and astounded Greenwood took his departure He talks of things which are quite new to me, said Greenwood recovering an outward appearance of composure though inwardly he was to chagrante beyond description. Domlinson made no reply he was too much occupied with his own affairs to be able to afford attention to those of others Greenwood shortly took his leave, delighted at having effectually settled his pecuniary obligation with the Count in such a manner that it could never again be the means of molestation in respect to himself, but vexed at the discovery which the Italian nobleman had evidently made in respect to his conduct towards Eliza Sidney. Immediately after Mr. Greenwood had left the bank parlor, all Michael entered this time he carried his snuff-box open in his left hand and at every two paces he took a copious pinch with the forefinger and thumb of his right this was a fearful omen and Domlinson trembled Well, Michael, well Not a deposit this morning Drafts come in like wildfire said the old cashier There is but a hundred pounds left into safe A hundred pounds? ejaculated the banker, clasping his hands together And is it come to this at length, Michael? Yes said the cashier, gruffly Then let us post a notice at once cried Domlinson, the establishment must be closed without another moments delay. Will you write out the notice of stoppage of payment or shall I? inquired Michael Do it yourself, my good old friend Do it for me said the banker, whose countenance was ashy pale and whose limbs trembled under him as if he expected the officers of justice to drag him to a place of execution The old cashier seated himself at the table and wrote out the announcement that the bank was unfortunately compelled to suspend its payments He then read it to the ruined man who was now pacing the apartment with agitated steps Will that do? Yes, answered the banker But then mercy, let me leave the house ere that notice be made public Domlinson was about to rush distractedly out of the room when the cashier was summoned into the public department of the establishment Five minutes elapsed ere his return Five minutes which appeared five hours to James Domlinson The old man came back and this time he did not carry his snuff box in his hand Without uttering a word he took the notice of stoppage off the table crushed it in his hand and threw it into the fire Save once more, he murmured as he watched the paper burning to tinder and when it was completely consumed he took a long and hearty pinch of snuff Saved echoed Domlinson Do you mean that we are saved again? Seven thousand Four hundred and sixty seven pounds just paid in to Dobson and Dobbins account answered the cashier coolly and leisurely as if he himself experienced not the slightest emotion In another hour there were fifteen thousand pounds in the safe and when the bank closed that evening at the usual time this sum had swollen up to twenty thousand and some hundreds This day was a specimen of the life of James Domlinson, the banker Readers, when you pass by the grand commercial and financial establishments of this great metropolis pause and reflect ere you envy their proprietors In the parlors and offices of those reputed emporians of wealth are men whose minds are prey to the most agonizing feelings the most poignant emotions There is no situation so full of responsibility as that of a banker perhaps so sacred as that which is confided to him When he falls it is not the ruin of one man which is accomplished it is the ruin of hundreds perhaps thousands The effects of that one failure are ramified to a wide section of society widows and orphans are reduced to beggary and those who have been well and tenderly nurtured are driven to the workhouse and yet the law punishes not the great banker and who involves thousands in his ruin The petty trader who breaks for fifty pounds is thrown into prison and is placed at the tender mercy of the insolvent's court which perhaps demands him to a debtor's jail for a year for having contracted debts without a reasonable chance of paying them But the great banker who commenced business with a hundred thousand pounds and who has dissipated five hundred thousand applies to the bankruptcy court never sees the inside of a prison at all and in due time receives a certificate which clears him of all his liabilities and enables him to begin the world anew The petty trader passes a weary time in jail and is then merely emancipated from his confinement but not from his debts His future exertions are clogged by an impending weight of liability One system or the other is wrong Decide or yield legislators who vaunt the wisdom of your ancestors which should be retained and which abolished or whether both should be modified In the course of the evening the Earl of Warrington called upon Mr Arlington with whom he passed a few minutes alone in the drawing room When his lordship had taken his departure Diana returned to Eliza whom she had left in another apartment and placing a quantity of letters folded but unsealed in her hand said These are the means of introduction to some of the first families in Montoni They are written, I am informed by an Italian nobleman of great influence and whose name will act like a talisman on your behalf They are sent unsealed according to usage but the Earl has earnestly and positively desired that their contents be not examined in this country He gave this injunction very seriously and did Diana with a smile doubtless because he is supposed that he has to deal with two daughters of Eve whose curiosity is invincible He however charged me to deliver this message to you as delicately as possible These letters answered Eliza glancing over their superscriptions are addressed to strangers and not to me I should not think of penetrating into their contents either in England or elsewhere But did you express to the Earl all the gratitude that I feel for his numerous and signal deeds of kindness The Earl is well aware of your grateful feelings replied Mrs Arlington Can you suppose that I would forget to paint all you experience for what he has already done and what he will still do for you He will see you for a moment your departure tomorrow to bid you farewell I appreciate that act of condescension on his part observed Eliza affected even to tears more than all else he has ever done for me On the following day Eliza Sidney accompanied by the faithful Louisa and attended by an elderly valet who had been for years in the service of the Earl of Warrington took her departure from London on her way to the grand duchy of Castles de Cala End of chapter 54 Recording by Dave Wills