 CHAPTER 20. AGAIN THE SCENE CHANGES. Our readers must accompany us once more to the villa in the neighborhood of Upper Clapton. It was the evening of the day on which was perpetrated the dreadful deed related in the preceding chapter. The curtains were drawn over the dining room windows, a cheerful fire burned in the grate, and a lamp placed in the middle of the table, diffused a pleasant and mellowed light around, an air of comfort, almost amounting to luxury, pervaded that apartment, and its general temperature was the better appreciated, as the wind whistled without and the rain patted against the windows. At the table, on which stood a dessert of delicious fruits, conserves, cakes and wines, sat Walter Sidney and George Montague. They had now been acquainted nearly three months, and during that period they had met often. Montague had, however seldom called at the villa, save when expressly invited by his friend Stevens. Still, upon those occasions he and Walter were frequently alone for some time together. Thus, while Stevens was examining into the economy of the stables, or superintending improvements in the garden, Montague and that mysterious lady and man's attire were thrown upon their own resources to entertain each other. The reader cannot be surprised if an attachment sprung up between them. So far as that lovely woman was concerned, we can vouch that her predilection towards George Montague was the sincere and pure sentiment of a generous and affectionate heart. How worthy of such a passion his own feelings on the subject might have been, must appear hereafter. The masculine attire and habits which the lady had assumed had not destroyed the fine and endearing characteristics of her woman's heart. She was at first struck by Montague's hands and person, then his varied conversation delighted her. And as he soon exerted all his powers to render himself agreeable to the heroine of the villa, it was not long before he completely won her heart. The peculiarity of her position had taught her, and necessarily so, to exercise in almost complete command over the expression of her feelings. Thus, though an explanation had taken place between herself and Montague, and a mutual avowal of affection made, Stevens remained without a suspicion upon the subject. On the evening when we again introduce our readers to the villa, Montague was there by the expressed desire of Mr. Stevens. But this latter individual had been detained by particular business elsewhere. Walter, for so we must continue to call that mysterious being, and Montague had therefore died into tate atate, and they were now enjoying together the two or three pleasant hours which succeed the most important meal of the day. The plans of the lovers will be comprehended by means of the ensuing conversation, better than if dryly detailed in our own narrative style. Another fortnight, two short weeks only, said the lady, and the end of this deception will have arrived. Yes, another fortnight, echoed Montague, and everything will then be favorable to our wishes, the 26th of November. My poor brother, where he alive, would be of age on the 25th, observed the lady mournfully. Of course, precisely, ejaculated Montague. On the 26th, as I was saying, Stevens plans will be realised and you will be worth ten thousand pounds. Oh, it is not so much for the money that I shall welcome that day, but chiefly because it will be the last time which I shall be doomed to wear this testable disguise, and shall not I be supremely happy to leave this land with you, to call you my own dear beloved wife, and to bear you away to the sunny climes of the south of Europe, where we may live in peace, happiness and tranquility to the end of our days. What a charming, what a delicious picture, ejaculated the lady, her bosom heaving with pleasurable emotions beneath the tight frock which confined it. But, oh, if the plans of Mr. Stevens should fail, and that they might fail, I am well assured, for he has often said to me, pray be circumspect, Walter, you know not how much depends upon your discretion. Those plans will not, cannot fail, cried Montague emphatically. He has told me all, everything is so well arranged, so admirably provided for. He has told you everything, said the lady reproachfully, and he has told me nothing. And I dare not enlighten you. Oh, I would not hear the secret from your lips. I have a confidence the most blind, the most devoted in Mr. Stevens, and I feel convinced that he must have sound reasons for keeping me thus in the dark, with reference to the principal motives of the deception which I am sustaining. I know moreover, at least, he has declared most solemnly to me, and I believe his word, that no portion of his plan militates against honour and integrity. He is compelled to meet intrigue with intrigue, but all his proceedings are justifiable. There can be no loss of character, no danger from the laws of the country. In all this I am satisfied, because a man who has done so much for me and my poor deceased mother would not leave me astray, nor involve me either in disgrace or peril. You are right, said Montague. Stevens is incapable of deceiving you. And more than all that I have just said, continued Walter, I am aware that there is an immense fortune at stake, and that should the plans of Mr. Stevens fully succeed, I shall receive ten thousand pounds, as a means of comfortable subsistence for the remainder of my life. And that some, joined to what I possess and to what I shall have, added Montague, will enable us to live in luxury in a foreign land. Oh, how happy shall I be when the time arrives for me to clasp you in my arms, to behold you, retired in the garb which suits your sex, and in which I never yet have seen you dressed. And to call you by the sacred and endearing name of wife, how beautiful must you appear in those garments which, harsh George, no compliments, cried the lady with a smile and a blush. Wait until you see me dressed as you desire, and perhaps then, then you may whisper to me the soft and delicious language of love. The timepiece upon the mantle struck eleven, and Montague rose to depart. It was an awful night. The violence of the wind had increased during the last hour, and the rain poured in torrents against the windows. George, it is impossible that you convent her out in such weather as this, said the lady, in a frank and ingenuous manner. One would not allow a dog to pass the door on such a night. Fortunately, there is a spare room in my humble abode, and that chamber is at your service. Walter rang the bell and gave Louisa the necessary instructions. In another half hour, Montague was conducted to the apartment provided for him, and Walter retired to luxurious and elegant boudoir which we had before described. The sudden curtains were drawn over the casement against which the rain beat with increasing fury. A two-fold fire actually roared in the grate, and the thick carpet upon the floor, the inviting lounging chair close by the harp, and the downy couch with its snow-white sheets and warm clothing completed the air of comfort which prevailed in that delicious retreat. The vases of sweet flowers were no longer there, it was true, but a fragrant odour of bergamot and lavender filled the boudoir. Nothing could be more charming than this warm, perfumed and voluptuous chamber, worthy of the lovely and mysterious being who seemed the presiding divinity of that Elysium bower. Walter threw herself into the easy chair and dismissed her attendant, saying, You may retire, Louisa. I will undress myself without your aid tonight, for as yet I do not feel inclined to sleep. I shall sit here, before this cheerful fire, and indulge in the luxury of hopes and future prospects ere I retire to rest. Louisa withdrew, and Walter then plunged into a delicious reverie. The approaching emancipation from the throldom of an assumed sex, her affection for George Montague, and the anticipated possession of an ample fortune to guard against the future were gold envisions, not the less dazzling for being waking ones. Half an hour had passed away in this manner, when a strange noise startled Walter in the midst of her meditations. She thought that she heard a shutter that closed violently, and a pane of glass smashed to pieces almost at the same moment. Alarm was for an instant depicted upon her countenance. She then smiled, and ashamed of the evanescent fear to which she had yielded said to herself, It must be one of the shutters of the dining room, or parlor down stairs, that is blown open. Taking the lamp in her hand she issued from the boudoir, and hastily descended the stairs leading to the ground floor. In her way thither she could hear, even amongst the howling of the wind, the loud barking of the dogs in the rear of the villa. The hall, as she crossed it, struck piercing cold, after the genial warmth of the boudoir which she had just left. She cautiously entered the parlor on the left hand of the front door. All was safe. Having satisfied herself that the shutters in that apartment were securely closed and fastened, she proceeded to the dining room. She opened the door and was about to cross the threshold when, at that moment, the lamp was dashed from her hand by someone inside the room, and she herself was instantly seized by two powerful arms and dragged into the apartment. A piercing cry issued from her lips, and then a cause and hard hand was pressed violently on her mouth. Further utterance was thus stopped. Here, Bill, Dick, said a gruff voice, give me a knife. I must settle this fellow's hash, or I'm blessed if he won't alarm the house. No more blood, no more blood! returned another voice hastily and with an accent of horror. I've had enough of that this morning. Gag him and tie him up in a heap. Damn him, do for him! cried a third voice. Don't be such a cursed coward, Bill. Hold your jaw, will you, and give me a knife, Dick! said the first speaker, who was no other than Tom the Kraxman. The fellow struggles furious, but I've got hold on him by the throat. Scarcely had these words issued from the lips of the burglar when the door was thrown open, and Montague entered the room. He held a lamp in one hand and a pistol in the other, and it was easy to perceive that he had been alarmed in the midst of his repose, for he had nothing on, save his trousers and his shirt. On the sudden appearance of an individual thus armed, Tom the Kraxman exclaimed, Add him, down with him, we must make a fight of it. The light of the lamp, which Montague held in his hand, streamed full upon the countenance and person of Walter Sidney, who was struggling violently in the suffocating grasp of the Kraxman. Hell and fury ejaculated Dick Flare, dropping his dark lantern and a bunch of skeleton keys upon the floor, while his face was suddenly distorted with an expression of indescribable horror. Then in obedience to the natural impulse of his alarm, he rushed towards the window, the shutters encasement of which had been forced open, leapt through it and disappeared amidst the darkness of the night. Astonished by this strange event, Bill Balter, instantly turned his eyes from Montague, whom he was at that moment about to attack, towards the Kraxman and Walter Sidney. The colour fled from the murderous cheeks as if a sudden spell had fallen upon him. His teeth chattered, his knees trembled, and he leaned against the table for support. There was the identical being whom four years and five months before they had hurled down the trapdoor of the old house in Chick Lane, and who, that had ever met that fate as yet, had survived to tell the tale. For an instant the entire frame of the murder was convulsed with alarm, the apparition before him, the vision of his assassinated wife, and the reminiscences of other deeds of the darkest die came upon him with the force of a whirlwind. For an instant, we say, was he convulsed with alarm. In another moment he yielded to his fears and profiting by his companion's example disappeared like an arrow through the window. Amongst persons engaged in criminal pursuits, a panic terror is very catching. The Kraxman, formidable and daring as he was, suddenly experienced an unknown and vague fear when he perceived the horror and unassumed alarm which had taken possession of his comrades. He loosened his grasp upon his intended victim. Walter made a last desperate effort and released herself from the burglar's power. Approach me and I'll blow your brains out, cried Montague, pointing his pistol at the Kraxman. Scarcely were these words uttered when the burglar darted forward, dashed the lamps from the hands of Montague and affected his escape by the window. Montague rushed to the casement and snapped the pistol after him. The weapon only flashed in the pan. Montague closed the window and fastened the shutters. He then called Walter by name and, receiving no answer, groped his way in the dark towards the door. His feet encountered an obstacle upon the carpet. He stooped down and felt with his hands. Walter Sidney had fainted. Scarcely two minutes had elapsed since Montague had entered the room for the confusion and flight of the burglar said not occupied near so much time to enact us to describe. The entire scene had moreover passed without any noise calculated to disturb the household. There were consequently no servants at hand to afford Walter the sucker which she required. For a moment Montague hesitated what course to pursue, but after one instance reflection he took her in his arms and carried her up into her own enchanting and delicious boudoir. End of Chapter 21 The Mysteries of London Chapter 21 of The Mysteries of London This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibraVox.org Recording by Anna Perner The Mysteries of London by George Reynolds Chapter 21 George Montague placed his precious burden upon the bed and for a moment contemplated her pale but beautiful countenance with mingle feelings of admiration, interest and desire. The lips were apart and two rows of pearl glittered beneath. The luxuriant light chestnut hair rolled over his arm, on which he still supported that head of perfect loveliness. His hand thus played with those silken shining tresses. Still she remained motionless, lifeless. Gently was drawing his arm Montague hastened to sprinkle her countenance with water. The colour returned faintly, very faintly to her cheeks, and her lips moved gently. But she opened not her eyes. For a moment he thought of summoning Louisa to her assistance. Then, obedient to a second impulse, he hastily loosened the hooks of her semi-military frockcoat. Scarcely had his hand thus invaded the treasures of her bosom when she moved and unclosed the lids of her large melting hazel eyes. Where am I? she exclaimed, instinctively closing her coat over her breast. Fear not, dearest, whispered Montague. It is I, I who love you. The scene with the burglars instantly flashed to the mind of the lady and she cried in a tone tender tremulous by fear. And those horrible men, are they all three gone? They are gone and you are safe. Oh, you will pardon me this weakness, continued Walter, hastily moving from the bed to a chair. But two of those villains I recognised them but too well were the men who threw me down the trapdoor in the old house near Smithfield. Hence their alarm, their panic, when they saw you exclaimed Montague. They fancied that they beheld a spirit instead of a reality. This accounts for their sudden and precipitate flight, till this moment unaccountable to me. And you, George, said the lady, glancing tenderly towards the young man, you are my saviour from a horrible death. Another moment in it would have been too late. They were going to murder me. Oh, how can I sufficiently express my gratitude? She tendered him her hand which he pressed rapturously to his lips and she did not withdraw it. I heard a noise of a shutter closing violently and a pane of glass breaking, said Montague. I started from my bed and listened. In a few moments afterwards I heard footsteps on the stairs. Those were mine as I descended, interrupted Walter, for I was alarmed by the same disturbance. And then, while I was hastily slipping on my clothes, added Montague, I heard a scream. Not another moment did I wait, but you came in time. I repeat, to save my life. Never, never shall I sufficiently repair you. Again did Montague press the fair hand of that enchanting woman to his lips and then, as he leaned over her, their eyes met and they exchanged glances of love, hers pure and chaste, his ardent and brimful of desire. He was maddened. He was emboldened by those innocent tokens of affection upon her part and, throwing his arms around her, he imprinted hot and burning kisses upon her lips. With difficulty did she disengage herself from his embrace and she cast upon him a look of reproach mingled with melancholy. Pardon me, dearest one, he exclaimed, seizing her hand once more and pressing it to his lips. Is it a crime to love you so tenderly, so well? No, George, no, you're my savior. You soon will be my husband. You need not ask for my forgiveness. But now, leave me. Retire to your own room as noiselessly as you can. And tomorrow, tomorrow, she added with a blush, it is not necessary that Louisa should know that you were here. I understand you, dearest, returned Montague. Your wishes shall ever be my commands. Good night, beloved one. Good night, dear George, said the lady, and in another moment she was again alone in the boudoir. Montague returned to his apartment, full of the bliss which he had derived from the caresses enjoyed in a chamber that seemed sacred to mystery and love. He paced his own room with hasty and agitated steps. His brain was on fire. His own loose ideas of morality induced him to put but little faith in the reality of female virtue. He moreover persuaded himself that the principles of rectitude, supposing that they had ever existed, in the bosom of the enchanting creature he had just left, had been undermined or destroyed by the cheat which she was practicing with regard to her sex. And, lastly, he fancied that her affections were too firmly riveted on him to refuse him anything. Miserable wretch, he was blinded by his own mad desires. He knew not that woman's virtue is as real, as pure, and as precious as the diamond. He remembered not that the object of his licentious passion was innocent of all criminal in the disguise which she had assumed. He reflected not that the caresses which she had air now permitted him to snatch were those which the most spotless virgin may honorably award to her lover. He paced his room in a frenzied manner, allowing his imagination to picture scenes and enjoyments of the most voluptuous kind. By degrees his passion became ungovernable. He was no longer the cool, calculating man he hitherto had been. A new chord appeared to have been touched in his heart. At that moment he would have signed a bond yielding up all hopes of eternal salvation to the evil one, for a single hour of love in the arms of that woman whom he had left in the Boudoir. His passion had become a delirium. He would have plunged into the crater of Vesuvius, or thrown himself from the ridge of the Alpine mountain into the torrent beneath, had she gone before him. An hour thus passed away, and he had tempted not to subdue his feelings. He rather encouraged their wild and wayward course by recalling to his imagination the charms of her whose beauty had thus strangely affected him. The endearing words which she had uttered, the thrilling effect of the delicious kiss he had received from her moist vermilion lips, and the voluptuous contours of that snowy bosom which had been for a moment revealed to his eyes. An hour passed, he opened the door of his chamber and listened. A dead silence prevailed throughout the house. He stole softly along the passage, and through the anti-room which led to the Boudoir. When he reached the door of that chamber he paused for a moment. What was he about to do? He waited not to answer the question, nor to reason within himself. He only chose to remember that a thin partition was all that separated him from one of the most beautiest creatures upon whom the sun ever shone in this world. His fingers grasped the handle of the door. He turned it gently. The door was not locked. He entered the Boudoir as noiselessly as a spectre. The lamp was extinguished, but the fire still burned in the grate, and its flickering light played tremulously on the various objects around. Baving in a rich glare, the downy bed whereon reposed the heroine of the villa. The atmosphere was warm and perfumed. The head of the sleeper was supported upon one naked arm, which was round, polished, and of exquisite wideness. The other lay outside the clothes upon the cover lid. Her long hair flowed in undulations upon the snowy pillows. The fire shone with Rembrandt effect upon her countenance, one side of which was completely irradiated, while the other caught not its mellow light. Thus the perfect regularity of the profile was fully revealed to him, who now dared to intrude upon those sacred slumbers. She shall be mine, she shall be mine, moment Montague, and he advanced toward the bed. At that moment, whether aroused by a dream, or startled by the almost noiseless tread of feet upon the carpet, we cannot say. The lady awoke. She opened her large hazel eyes, and they fell upon a figure to whom her imagination, thus suddenly surprised, and the flickering light of the fire gave a giant stature. Her fears in one respect were, however, immediately relieved, for the voice of Montague fell upon her ears almost as soon as her eyes caught sight of him. Pardon, pardon, dearest one, he said in a hurried and subdued tone. Ah, is it so? quickly ejaculated the lady, who in a moment comprehended how her privacy had been outraged, and passing her arm beneath the pillow she drew forth a long, sharp, shining dagger. Montague started back in dismay. Villain, that you are, approached this bed, and without a moment's hesitation I will plunge this dagger into your heart. Ah, forgive me, forgive me, ejaculated the young man, cruelly embarrassed, dazzled by your beauty, driven mad by your caresses, intoxicated, blinded with passion. I could not command myself, I had no power over my actions. Attempt no apology, said the lady with a calm and tranquil bitterness of accent, that showed how profoundly she felt their outrage, the atrocity, that he whom she loved so tenderly, had dared to mediate against her. Attempt no apology, but leave this room without an instance delay and without another word. Within my reach is a bell rope. One touch of my finger, and I can call my servants to my assistance. Save me that exposure, save yourself that disgrace. Tomorrow I will tell you my opinion of your conduct. There was something so determined, so cool, so resolute in the manner and the matter of this address, that Montague felt abashed, humbled, beaten down to the very dust. Even his groveling soul at that moment comprehended the Roman mind of the woman whom he would have disgraced. A coward when burglars menaced her life she was suddenly endowed with lion-daring in defense of her virtue. The quest-fallen young man again attempted to palliate his intrusion. With superb scorn she waved her hand imperiously, as a signal to leave the room. Tears of vexation, shame and rage started into his eyes as he obeyed that silent mandate, which he now dared no longer to dispute. The moment the wretch had left the boudoir, the lady sprang from the bed and double-locked the door. She then returned to her couch, buried her head in the pillow, and burst into an agony of tears. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 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 Anna Perner. The Mysteries of London by George Reynolds Chapter 22 When Louisa entered the boudoir in the morning which succeeded this eventful night, nothing amultuous countenance denoted the painful emotions that filled her bosom. She narrated the particulars of the burglarius entry of the dwelling, and Montague's opportune arrival upon the scene of action, with a calmness which surprised her faithful attendant. The truth was that the attempt of the robbers upon the house, and even the danger in which her own life had been placed, had dwindled, in her own estimation, into events of secondary importance when compared with that one atrocity which had suddenly wrecked all her hopes of love and happiness forever. The usual mysterious toilet was speedily performed, and, with a firm step and a countenance expressive of a stern decision, she descended to the breakfast parlor. Montague was already there, pale, haggard, abashed and trembling. He knew that the chance of possessing a lovely woman and ten thousand pounds was then at stake, and, in addition to the perilous predicament of his nearest and dearest hopes, his position was embarrassing and unpleasant in the extreme. Had he succeeded in his base attempt he would have been a victor flushed with conquest, and prepared to dictate terms to a woman entirely at his mercy. But he had been foiled, and he himself was a dejected baffled being who would be compelled to crave for pardon. As Louisa entered the room close upon the heels of Walter, the latter greeted George Montague with a most affable morning's welcome, and conversed with him in a manner which seemed to say that she'd totally forgotten the occurrence of the night. But the moment that Louisa had completed the arrangements of the breakfast table and had left the room, Walter's tone in manner underwent an entire and sudden change. You must not think, sir, she said, while a proud smile of scorn and bitterness curled her lips, that I have this morning tasted of the waters of oblivion. To save you, rather than myself, the shame of being exposed in the presence of my servant, I assumed that friendly and familiar air which appears to have deceived you. What? Then you have not forgiven me? exclaimed Montague profoundly surprised. Forgive you! repeated the lady almost indignantly. Do you suppose that I think so little of myself, or would give you such scope to think so little of me, as to pass by, in silence, a crime which was atrocious in a hundred ways? I loved you sincerely, tenderly. Ah, God only knows how I loved you, and you would have taken advantage of my sincere and heartfelt affection. The dream in which I had indulged is not a spell. The vision is over, the illusion is dissipated. Never would I accompany to the altar a man whom I could not esteem, and I can no longer esteem you. Then again I offered you the hospitality of my abode, and that sacred rite you would have infamously violated. I cannot, therefore, even retain you as a friend, in another sense, too, your conduct was odious. You saved my life, and for that I shall ever remember you with gratitude, but you nevertheless sought to avail yourself of that service, as a means of robbing me of my honour. Ah, all this was abominable, detestable on your part, and what is the result? My love can never avail you now. I will crush it, extinguish it in my bosom first, my friendship cannot be awarded, my gratitude alone remains. That shall accompany you, for we must now separate and forever. Separate and forever, ejaculated Montague, who had listened with deep interest in various conflicting emotions to this strange address. No, you cannot mean it. You will not be thus relentless. Mr Montague returned the lady with great apparent coolness, though in reality she was inflicting excruciating torches upon her own heart. No power on earth can alter my resolve. We shall part here, now, and forever, and may happiness and prosperity attend you. But Mr Stevens cried Montague, what can you say to him? What will he think? He shall never know the truth from me, answered Walter solemnly. This is absurd, ejaculated Montague, in despair at the imminent ruin of all his hopes. Will not, my humblest apology, my sincerest excuses, my future conduct? Will nothing atone for one false step committed under the influence of generous winds, and of a passion which obtained a complete mastery over me? Will nothing move you forgiveness? Nothing, answered Walter, with unvary coolness and determination. Were I a young girl of 16 or 17, it might be different. Then I might be deceived by your sophistry. Now it is impossible. I am five and twenty years old, and circumstances, she added glancing over her male attire, have also attended to augment my experience in the sinuosities of human designs and phases of the human heart. Yes, you are 25, it is true, cried Montague. Oh, then let your mind be cautious how it adopts the severe notions of riper years. I thank you for the compliment which you pay me, said Walter satirically, and I can assure you that it does not prove a welcome preface to the argument which you would found upon it. Old or young, experienced or ignorant in the ways of the world, a woman were a fool to marry where her husband I may be wrong, but this is my conviction and upon it I will act. This is but an excuse to break with me, said Montague, you no longer love me. No, not as I did 12 hours ago. You never loved me, it is impossible to divest oneself of that passion so suddenly as this. Love in my mind is a species of worship or adoration and can be damaged by the evil suspicions that may suddenly be thrown upon its object. No, that is not love exclaimed Montague passionately. True love will make a woman follow her lover or her husband through all the most hideous paths of crime, even to the scaffold. The woman who truly loves will follow her husband as a duty, but not her lover to countenance him in his crimes. We are not, however, going to argue this point. For my part, I am not acting according to the prescribed notions of romances or a false sentimentality, but strictly in accordance with my own ideas of what is suitable to my happiness and proper to my condition. I repeat, I am not the heroine of a novel in her teens. I am a woman of certain age and can reflect calmly in order to act decidedly. Montague made no reply but walked towards the window. Strange and conflicting sentiments were agitating in his brain. To us he reasoned within himself, if I use threats and menaces, I shall merely open her eyes to the real objects which Stephen has in view, and she will shrink from the fearful dangers she is about to encounter. Whether she changes her mind or not with regard to me, and whether I proceed further in the business or not, the secret is in my hands, and Stevens will pay me handsomely to keep it. Perhaps I'd even better stop short where I am. I am still in a position to demand hush money and avoid the extreme peril which must accrue to all who appear prominently in the affair on the 26th of the month. The selfish mind of George Montague thus revolved the various phases of his present position, and in a few moments he was determined how to act. Turning towards Walter Sidney, he exclaimed, You are decided not to forgive me. I have made known to you my resolution, that we should now part forever. How can we part forever when your friend and benefactor, Mr Stevens, requires my services? Mr Stevens informed me that a third person was necessary to the complete success of his designs, and that he had fixed upon you. Consequently, another friend may fill the place which he intended you to occupy. You seem to have well weighed the results of your resolution to see me no more, said Montague Bertille. There is time for thought throughout the lived long night when sleep is banished from the pillow. Return the lady proudly. I can scarcely comprehend your conduct, said Montague after another pause. You do not choose that your servant should know what occurred last night. Is it your intention to acquaint Mr Stevens with the real truth? That depends entirely upon yourself. To speak candidly, I do not wish to come to any explanation with Mr Stevens upon the subject. He will blame me for having concealed from him the attachment which has subsisted between us, and he will imagine that some levity on my part must have encouraged to violate the sanctity of my chamber. If you, sir, are a man of honour, added the lady emphatically, and if you have a spark of feeling and generosity left, you will take measures with Mr Stevens to spare me that last mortification. I will do as you require, returned Montague, well pleased with this arrangement. This very day will I communicate to Mr Stevens my desire to withdraw from any further interference in his affairs, and I will allege the pressing nature of my own concerns as an excuse. Act as you will, said the lady, but let there remain behind, no motive which can lead you to repeat your visits to this house. You comprehend me? Perfectly replied Montague, but once more let me implore you. Enough, enough, exclaimed Walter, you know not the firmness of the female mind. Perhaps I have this morning taught you a lesson in that respect. We must now part, Mr Montague, and believe me, believe me, that although no power on earth can alter the resolution to which I came during the long and painful vigil of the past night, I still wish you well, and remember, my gratitude accompanies you. Walter hesitated for a moment as if another observation were trembling upon her tongue, then stifling her emotions with a powerful effort, she waved her hand to the delinquent and abruptly left the room. Is this a loftiness of mind of which not even the greatest of men often afford example? Or is it the miserable caprice of a vacillating woman, said Montague to himself, as he prepared to take his departure from the villa in which he had spent some happy hours? I must candidly admit that this time I am at fault, all appears to be lost in this quarter, and that too, through my own confounded folly. But Stevens' secret still remains to me, and that secret shall be as good as an annuity for years to come. Let me see, I must have money now to ensure my silence upon breaking off further connection with the business. Then I must keep an eye upon him, and should he succeed on the 26th of this month, and he must succeed, if this punctilious lady does not see through his designs in the meantime, then can I step forward and demand another sum, under a threat of exposing the entire scheme? And then too, he added, while his countenance wore an expression of mingled revenge and triumph. Then too, can I appear before this vain, this scrupulous, this haughty woman, and with one word sent her on her knees before me? Then she will stoop her proud brow, and her prayers and intercessions upon that occasion shall be expressed as humbly as her reproaches and her taunts, were tyrannically leveled at me to day. Yes, I will keep my eye upon Walter Sydney and her benefactor Stevens, he said with an ironical chuckle. They may obtain their princely fortune, but a due share shall find its way into my pocket. These or similar reflections continued to occupy the mind of George Montague after he had left the villa, and while he was on his way to the nearest point, where he could obtain a conveyance to take him into the city. The old house in Smithfield again. The visitor to the Polytechnic Institution, or the Adelaide Gallery, has doubtless seen the exhibition of the microscope. A drop of the purest water, magnified by that instrument some thousands of times, appears filled with horrible reptiles and monsters of revolting forms. Such is London. Fair and attractive as the mighty metropolis may appear to the superficial observer, it swarms with disgusting, loathsome and venomous objects wearing human shapes. Oh, London is a city of strange contrasts. The hustle of business and the smile of pleasure, the peaceful citizen and the gay soldier, the splendid shop and the itinerant pastry stall, the gorgeous equipage and the humble market cart, the palaces at nobles and the hovels of the poor, the psalm from the chapel, and the shout of laughter from the tavern, the dandies lounging in the West End streets and the paupers cleansing away the mud, the funeral procession and the bridal cavalcade, the wealthy and high-born lady whose reputation is above all caval and the lost girl whose shame is below all notice, the adventurer who defends his honour with a duel and the poor tradesman whom unavoidable bankruptcy has branded as a rogue, the elegantly clad banker whose insolvency must soon transpire and the ragged old miser whose wealth is not suspected, the monuments of glory and the hospitals of the poor, the temples where men adore a god with affectation and the shrines at which they lose their gold to a deity whom they adore without affectation. In a word grandeur and squalor, wealth and misery, virtue and vice, honesty which has never been tried and crime which yielded to the force of irresistible circumstances. All the features, all the characteristics, all the morals of a great city must occupy the attention of him who surveys London with microscopic eye. And what a splendid subject for the contemplators of the moralist is a mighty city which at every succeeding hour presents a new phase of interest to the view, in the morning when only the industrious and the thrifty are abroad and while the wealthy sod the great a sleeping of the night's pleasure and dissipation, at noon when the streets are swarming with life as if some secret sauce without the walls poured at that hour myriads of animated streams into the countless avenues and thoroughfares, in the evening when the men of pleasure again venture forth and music and dancing and revelry prevail around, and at night when every Lazar house from its forth its filth every den lets loose its horrors and every foul cart and alley echoes to the footsteps of crime. It was about two o'clock in the morning, three hours after the burglarious attempt upon the villa that a man drenched by the rain which continued to pour in torrents with his hat drawn over his eyes and his hands thrust in his pockets to protect them against the cold, crept cautiously down West Street, from Smithfield dodged past the policemen and entered the old house which we have described at the opening of our narrative. Having closed and carefully bolted the front door he hastily ascended to the room of the first floor where Walter Sidney had seen him and his companion conceal their plunder four years and four months previously. This man, so wet, so cold, and so miserable, was Bill Balter, the murderer. Having groped about for a few moments he found a match, struck it, and obtained a light. One of the secret recesses furnished a candle and the flickering glare fell upon the haggard unshaven and dirty countenance of the ruffian. Scarcely had he lighted the candle when a peculiar whistle was heard in the street just under the window. The features of Balter became suddenly animated with joy, and as he hastily descended the stairs he muttered to himself. Well, at all offence, here's one of them. The individual to whom he opened the door was Dick Flairer, in no better plight, mentally and bodily than himself. Is there any bingo, Bill?" demanded Dick, the moment he set foot in the upstairs room. Not a drain, answered Balter, after a close inspection of the cupboard in the wall between the windows, and not a morsel of grub, neither. Blow the grub, said Dick, I ain't in no humour for eating, but I could drink a gallon. I've been thinking as I come along, and after the first shock was over, what curse forged you and me was to be humbugged in this ear affair? Either that young fellow was the brother of the one which we threw down the trap. No. I could swear that he is the same, interrupted, Bill. Well, then he must have made his escape, and that's all, added Dick Flairer. That must be it, observed Balter, after a long pause. But it was so sudden upon us, and then without no time to think and all that, you may say what you like, Bill, but I shall never forgive myself. I was the first to bolt, and I was the coward. How shall I ever be able to look the cracksman in the face again, or go to the parlour of the boozing-ken? It's no use complaining like this, Dick. You was used to be the bolden, and now it seems as if it was me that must say cheer up. The fact is, some must be done without delay. I told you and Tom what had happened at my crib, and so I lay up for some time, my must. Come now, Dick. You won't desire to pal in trouble. There's my hand, Bill. Only say what you want done, and I'm your man. In the first place, do you think it's safe for me to stay here? Won't that young fellow give the alarm, and say as ours else was attempted by the same cracksman that wanted to make a stiffen of him between four and five years ago at this old crib? And then won't the blue-bottles come and search the place from chimly-popped-down foundation-stone? Let them search it, ejaculated flairer. They'll only do it once, and who cares for that? You can lie as snug downstairs for a week or so as if you were a thousand miles off. Besides, it would think for an instant that you would hide yourself in the very spot that the young fellow could point out as one of our aunts. Mark me, Bill, if you goes up to Wraps Castle in St Jars's you would find too many tongues among them, cursed Irish's, to ask who is he and what is he, and if you goes over to the mint you'll be sure to be tweaked by a lot of them, low buzz-gloaks, and broken down magsmen as swarms there, and they'll nose upon you for a penny. White-chapel backslums isn't safe, for the broom-gals, the blacks and the ballad-singers which occupies all that district, is always a quarreling, and the blue-bottles is constantly poking their nose in every crib in...conseqfance. Here you were snug, and I can bring you your grub, and tell you the news of an evening are too dark, but to be penned up in that infernal hole for a fortnight or three weeks till the storms blowed over is horrible to think on," said Bill, and, scragging, hanging, more horrible still, said Dick significantly, Bill bold to shuddered, and a convulsive motion agitated his neck as if he already felt the cord around it. His countenance became ashy pale, and as he glanced fearfully around he exclaimed, Yes, you're right, Dick, I'll take myself to the hiding-crib, and you can give me the office. In form, give warning, at any moment if things go wrong, to-morrow you must try and find out whether there's much of a row about the affair in the court. The ruffian expressed the least anxiety relative to the fate of his children. Tomorrow, exclaimed Dick, today you mean, for it can't be far off from three o'clock, and now talking about grub is all very easy, but getting it is quite another thing. Neither you nor me hasn't got a scurric, and where to get a penny-loaf on tick, I don't know. By hell I shall starve, Dick!" cried the murderer, casting a glance of alarm and horror upon his companion, whatever it I get shall be for you first, Bill, and to get anything at all I must be wide awake. The grass mustn't grow under my feet. At that moment a whistle, similar to the sound by which Dick Flairer had notified his approach to Bill Bolter, emanated from the street and fell upon the ears of those wharves. Dick hastened to respond to this summons, and in short time introduced the cracksman. The moment this individual entered the room he demanded if there were anything to eat or drink upon the premises. He of course received a melancholy negative, but instead of being disheartened his countenance appeared to wear a smile of pleasure. Now you see, I never desert a friend in distress," he exclaimed. With these words he produced from his pocket a quantity of cold vitals and a large flask of brandy. Without waiting to ask questions or give explanations the three thieves fell tooth and nail upon the preventer. I knowed you had come to this here crib, because Bill don't dare go to the boozing-ken till the affair of the courts blowed over," said the cracksman, when his meal was terminated, and so I thought I'd join you, after I left the place out by Clapton. And how the devil did you get away, demanded Dick. Just the same as you did, it would have served you right if I'd never spoke to you again, and blowed you at the ken into the bargain. But I thought to myself, thinks I, it must be somewhat very strange that made the flairer and the bolt to cut their lucky and leave their pal in the lodge. So let's hear what they asked to say for themselves first. Then as I come along I found a purse in a gentleman's pocket just opposite Bethnal Green, Newchurch, and that put me into good humour. So I looked in at the ken, got the grub and the bingo and came on here. A regular trump-tomb, ejaculated Dick Flairer, and I'll stick to you light-bricks from this moment till I die. The fact is, me and Bill has told you about that young fella which we throw down the traps on four or five years back. Yes, I remember. Well, we seed him to-night. To-night? What, at the crib up there? The swell that you got a grip on in the dark was the very self-same one. Then he must have got clear off. That's all," cried the cracksman. There was no ghost, but rail-plump flesh and hot blood, I'll swear. So we both think now to be sure," said Dick. But you don't bear any ill will, Tom. Not at Atom. Here's fifteen counters, Sulfurins, which was in the purse of the swell which I met at Bethnal Green, and half that's yawn. But about Bill there, what's he a-going to do? Dick pointed with his finger downwards. Tom comprehended the signal and nodded approvingly. The brandy produced a cheering effect upon the three Ruffians, and pipes and tobacco augmented their joviality. Their discourse gradually became coarsely humorous, and their mirth boisterous. At length Bill Balter, who required every possible means of artificial stimulant and excitement to sustain his spirits in the fearful predicament in which he was placed, called upon the cracksman for a song. Tom was famous amongst his companions for his vocal qualifications, and he was not a little proud of the reputation he had acquired in the parlours of the various boozing-kens and pat-a-cribs, flash-houses, of which he was in the habit of frequenting. He was not therefore backward in complying with his friend's request, and in a somewhat subdued tone, for fear of making too much noise, complaint not, often heard in chick-lane, he sang the following lines. The Thieves' Alphabet A was an area, sneaky, leery and sly, B was a buzz-glok, with fingers so fly, C was a cracksman that forked all the plate, D was a dubsman who kept the jug-gate. For we are rollicking chaps or smoking singing boozing, we care not for the traps, but past the night, caroosing. E was an effedur, a thief who frequents theatres that went to the play. F was a fogal, he napped on his way. G was a gag, which he told to the beak, H was a humbox, porpit where parish prigs speak, chorus. I was an icky, a dew-fence, a receiver of stolen goods, with swag all encumbered. J was a jug, in whose cell he was lumbered, K was a kibosh, one shilling, six pennies, that paid for his treat, L was a leaf, the drop, that fell under his feet. Chorus M was a magsman, frequenting pal-mal, N was a nose that turned chirp on his pal, O was an onion, a watch-seal, possessed by a swell. P was a panney, done nib-like and well, chorus. Q was a queer-screen, that served as a blind, served to deceive the unwary. R was a reader, pocket-book, with flimsy's well-lined, S was a smasher, so nutty and spry, T was a ticker, watch, just faked from a cli. Chorus U was an uptucker, Jack catch, fly with the cord, V was a varnisher, utterer of false sovereigns, dressed like a lord. Y was a yokster, a convict returned from transportation for his time, that eat caper-source, hanged, Z was a ziff, juvenile thief who was flashed on the horse, privately whipped in prison. For we are rollicking chaps, or smoking, singing, boozing. We care not for the traps, but past the night, caroosing. This song is entirely original. In this manner did the three thieves pass the first hours of mourning at the old house in Chick Lane. At length the heavy and sonorous voice of St. Paul's proclaimed six o'clock. It still wanted an hour to sunrise, but they now thought it prudent to separate. Tom the Cracksman and Dick Flairer arranged together a little piece of business for the ensuing night, which they hoped would prove more fortunate than their attempt on the villa at Upper Clapton. But Dick faithfully promised Bill Balter to return to him in the evening before he set out on the new expedition. Matters being thus agreed upon, the moment for the murderer's concealment arrived. We have before stated that the entire grate in the room which the villains frequented could be removed, and that when taken out of its setting it revealed an aperture of considerable dimensions. At the bottom of this square recess was a trap door, communicating with a narrow and spiral staircase that led into a vault adjoining and upon the same level with the very cellar from which Walter Sydney had so miraculously escaped. The possibility of such an architectural arrangement being fully carried out, with a view to provide a perfect means of concealment, will be apparent to our readers when we state that the side of the house farthest from the fleet-ditch was constructed with a double brick wall, and that the spiral staircase consequently stood between those two partitions. The mode in which the huge chimneys were built also tended to ensure the complete safety of that strange hiding-place, and to avert any suspicion that might for a moment be entertained of the existence of such a retreat in that old house. Even in case the secret of the movable grate should be discovered, the eye of the most acute thief-taker would scarcely detect the trap door at the bottom of the recess so admirably what it made to correspond with the brickwork that formed its frame. The vault with which the spiral staircase corresponded was about fourteen feet long by two-and-a-half wide. An iron grating of eight inches square overlooking the fleet-ditch was all the means provided to supply that living-tomb with fresh, we cannot say pure, air. If the atmosphere of the hiding-place were thus neither wholesome nor pleasant, it did not at least menace existence. And a residence in that vault for even weeks and weeks together was deemed preferable to the less cribbed, cabined, and confined so drawn of Newgate. But connected with the security of this vault was one fearful condition. The individual who sought its dark solitude could not emancipate himself at will. He was entirely at the mercy of those confederates who were entrusted with his secret. Should anything happen to these men? Should they be suddenly overtaken by the hand of death, then salvation must be the portion of the inmate of that horrible vault, and should they fall into the hands of justice, then the only service they could render their companion in a living-tomb would be to reveal the secret of his hiding-place. Up to the time of which we are writing, since the formation of that strange lurking-hole in the days of the famous Jonathan Wilde, three or four persons had alone availed themselves of the vault as a means of personal concealment. In the first place the secret existed with very few, and secondly it was only in cases where life and death were concerned that a refuge was sought in so fearful an abode. When the gate was removed and the trap-door was opened, the entire frame of Bill Bolter became suddenly conforced with horror. He dreaded to be left to the mercy of his own reflections. "'It's infernally damp,' said Bill, his teeth chattering, as much with fear as with cold. Bill, however, of exciting the disgust and contempt of his companions, at what might be termed his pusillanimous conduct, he mustered up all of his courage, short-hands with the cracksman and flairer, and then insinuated his person through the aperture. "'You may as well take the pipes and backie along with your old fella,' returned Dick. "'And here's a thimble full of brandy left in the flask,' added the cracksman. "'This evening I'll bring you a jolly week of the bingo,' said flareer. Provided with the little comforts just specified, the murderer descended the spiral staircase into the vault. The trap-door closed above his head, and the grate was replaced with more than usual care and attention. The cracksman and Dick flareer then took their departure from the old house, in the foundation of which a fellow creature was thus strangely entombed alive. CHAPTER XXIV CIRCUMSTANCIAL EVIDENCE Let us now return to Mr Whittingham, whom we left in serious and unfaithful tribulation, at the moment when his young master was taken into custody, upon the charge of passing a forged note. The Bow Street runner, whom the officer had left behind to search the house, first possessed himself of the two letters which were lying upon the table in Markham's library, and which were addressed, respectively, to Mrs Arlington and Mr Monroe. The functionary then commenced a strict investigation of the entire premises, and at the end appeared marvelously surprised that he had not found a complete apparatus for printing forged notes, together with a quantity of the false articles themselves. This search, nevertheless, occupied three hours, and when it was over, he took his departure quite sulky because he had nothing to offer as evidence, save the two sealed letters, which might be valuable in that point of view, or might not. The moment this unwelcome guest had quitted the house, the butler, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, for it was now dusk, ordered the market cart to be got ready, and with the least possible delay he proceeded into town. Upon his arrival in Bow Street he found that the police office was closed, but upon inquiry he learned that the investigation of Richard Markham's case had been postponed until the following morning at eleven o'clock, the prisoner having declared that he could produce a witness who would satisfactorily show his, the prisoner's, entire innocence in the transaction. In the meantime he had been removed to Clarkhamwell Prison. Without asking another question, Whittingham mounted his cart once more, and drove away at a rattling pace to Clarkhamwell Prison. There he began to thunder like a madman at the knocker of the Governor's private residence, and could hardly believe his senses when a servant-girl informed him that it was past the hours to see the prisoners. Whittingham would have remonstrated, but the girl slammed the door in his face. He accordingly had no alternative safe to drive direct home again. The very next morning at nine o'clock Mr Whittingham entered the servant's arms tavern, and with but little of his usual circumlocution and verbosity inquired the address of Mr McChisel, the lawyer, who had been one of the party at that house the evening but one before. Here is his card, said the landlord. He uses my house regular, and he is an out-and-out practitioner. Whittingham did not wait to hear any further eulogium upon the attorney. It had struck him that the young master might require a professional adviser, and having the supreme felicity of being totally unacquainted with the attire for eternity, he had felt himself somewhat puzzled how to supply the desideratum. In this dilemma he had suddenly bethought himself of McChisel, and without waiting to ponder upon the propriety of the step he was taking, he rushed off in the manner described to procure that individual's address. Well, what do you want? cried the lawyer, who was astonished at the unceremonious manner in which Whittingham suddenly rushed into his office. What do you want? Law was the laconic answer. Well, you can have plenty of that here, said Mr. McChisel. But I think you are the gentleman with whom I have the pleasure of passing a pleasant evening at the servants' arms a day or two ago. The identical same, returned Whittingham. Flinging his hat upon the floor and himself into a chair. Take time to breathe, sir, said the lawyer. If you've come for advice you couldn't have selected a better shop, but I must tell you beforehand that mine is quite a ready-money business. Very good, sir. I'll tell you my story first and foremost, and you can then explain the most legible means of proceeding. I want law and justice. Law you can have him welcome, but whether you will obtain justice is another consideration. I'm bewildered in a labyrinth of mazes, sir, said the butler. I always opinionated that law and justice were the same thing. Quite the reverse, I can assure you. Law is a human invention. Justice is a divine inspiration. What is law today is not law tomorrow, and yet everything is still denominated justice. A credit assaults for justice when he appeals to a tribunal against his debtor, and how is that justice awarded? Why, if a man can't pay five pounds, the law immediately makes his debt ten pounds, and if he can't live out of doors, the law immediately shuts him up in prison by way of helping him out of his difficulties. That is law, sir, but it is not justice. Right, sir, very right. Law, you see, sir, continued McChisel, who was particularly fond of hearing himself talk. Law is omnipotent, and beats justice to such an extreme that justice would be justified in bringing an action of assault and battery against the law. Law even makes religion, sir, and gives the attributes of the deity, for no one dares assert that God possesses equality or a characteristic, and is in conformity with the law. And as these laws are always changing, so, of course, does the nature of the deity, as established by the law, very too, so that men may be said to go to heaven, or to another place, by the term-pike roads laid down by the law. I like your reasonable powers amazingly, said the butler, somewhat impatiently, and I will now proceed to unfold the momentary object of my visit. Give yourself breathing time, my dear, sir. As I was observing, law is more powerful than even justice and religion, and I could now show that it exercises the same predominating influence over morality also. For instance, law and not conscience defines virtues and vices. If I murder you, I commit a crime, but the executioner who puts me to death for the action does not commit a crime, neither does the soldier who kills his fellow creature in battle. Thus murder is only a crime, when it is not legalised by human statutes, or in plain terms, when it is not according to law. I comprehend, sir, said Whittingham, and, seeing that Mr. McChisel now paused at length, he narrated the particulars of his master's arrest upon an accusation of passing a forged note of five hundred pounds. This is an ugly case, Mr. Whittingham. You must go down to him at Bow Street. His case comes on at eleven o'clock. Well, there is plenty of time. It is only half past nine o'clock. I think we have better instruct counsel. Construct counsel!" ejaculated Whittingham. I want you to get him liberated at once. I dare say you do, said the lawyer coolly. That is often more easily said than done. From what you have told me, I should not wonder if your master was committed for trial. But he is innocent, sir. He is innocent as the young lamb in the meadows which is unborn, cried Whittingham. Master Richard would no more pass a fictious note than I should endeavour to pass a racehorse, if I was mounted on a donkey. Mr. McChisell smiled, and summoned his clerk by the euphonious name of Simcox. Mr. Simcox was somewhat slow in making his appearance, and when he did a very comical one it was, for his hair was red, his eyes were green, his countenance was studied with freckles, and his eyelashes were white. Simcox, said Mr. McChisell, I am going out for a few hours. If the gentleman called about the thousand-pound bill, tell him that I can get it discounted for him, for fifty pounds, in money, and eight hundred in wine, which allows a hundred and fifty for discount and my commission. If the lady called whose husband has run away from her, tell her that I have sent to Paris to make inquiries after him, and that if she will leave another fifty pounds I will send to Vienna. By the by, that bothering fellow Smith is certain to call. Tell him I am gone into the country, and shall be away for a fortnight. If Jenkins calls, tell him I shall be home at five, and he must wait, as I want to see him. Very well, sir, said Simcox, and if the gentleman calls about the loan, why the touch shall seize party about it this evening? The first party declines, but I have another party in view. Somehow or other, many of business have always got a particular party in view, to accomplish a particular purpose, and they are always being disappointed by their parties, whom by the by they never can descend to name. To be deceived by a party, or having a party to meet, or being engaged so long with a particular party, are excuses which will last as long as business itself shall exist, and will continue to be received as apologies, as long as any apologies are received at all. They will wear out every other lie. Whittingham was too much occupied by the affairs of his master to pay any attention to the orders which the solicitor gave his clerk, and he was considerably relieved when he found himself by the aid of his professional adviser rolling along the streets in a cabriolet. At length the lawyer and the faithful domestic were set down at the police station in Bow Street, and in a few moments they were admitted in Tim presence of a policeman to an interview with Markham in one of the cells attached to the establishment. Whittingham's countenance was pale and care-worn, his hair was dishevelled, and his attire seemed put on slovenly. But these circumstances scarcely attracted the eyes of Whittingham. A more appalling and monstrous spectacle engrossed all the attention of that faithful old dependent, and this was the manacle which confined his revered master's hands together. Whittingham wept. Oh, Master Richard, he exclaimed in a voice broken by sobs, what an unforeseen and perfidious adventure is this. You surely never could. No, I know you didn't. Do not grieve yourself, my faithful friend said Richard deeply affected. My innocence will soon be proved. I have sent for Mr. Chichester, who will be here presently, and he can show to one moment how I became possessed of the two notes. Two notes, cried Whittingham. Yes, I had another of fifty pounds value in my purse, which I also received from Chichester, and which has turned out to be a spurious one. Doubtless he has been deceived himself. Oh, that Hare Winchester, or Kidderminster, or whatever his name be, interrupted the butler, a strange misgiving oppressing his mind. I'm afraid he won't do the thing that's right. But here is a profound adviser, Mr. Richard, that I have brought with me, and he'll see Lord Dunn, he said, and I believe him too. Markham and McChisel then entered into conversation together, but scarcely had the unfortunate young man commenced his account of the peculiar circumstances in which he was involved, when the jailer entered to conduct him into the presence of the magistrate. Markham was placed in the felon's dock, and Mr. McChisel intimated to the sitting magistrate in a simpering tone, that he appeared for the prisoner. Now we must inform our readers that McChisel was one of those low petty foggers who, without being absolutely the black sheep of the profession, act upon the principle that all are fish that come to the net, and practice indiscriminately in a civil and criminal courts, conduct a man's insolvency, or defend him before the magistrate, discount bills and issue no ends of right, act for lone societies and tally shops, in a word, undertake anything that happens to fall in their way, so long as it brings grist to the mill. Mr. McChisel was not therefore what is termed a respectable solicitor, and the magistrate's countenance assumed an appearance of austerity, for he had previously been possessed in Markham's favour, when that individual announced that he appeared for the prisoner. That's poor witting him in his anxiety to do his beloved master a great deal of good, actually prejudiced his case materially at the outset. Though unhappy and care-worn, Richard was not downcast, conscious innocence supported him. Accordingly when he beheld Mr. Chichester enter the witness-box, he bowed to him in a friendly and even grateful manner, but to his ineffable surprise, that very fashionable gentleman affected not to notice his salutation. It is not necessary to enter into details. The nature of the evidence against Markham was that he had called at his guardian's bankers the day, but even previously, to receive a sum of money, that he requested the cashier to change a £500 Bank of England note, that although an unusual proceeding the demand was complied with, that the prisoner wrote his name on the back of the note, and that in the course of the ensuing morning it was discovered that the said note was a forgery. The prisoner was arrested, and upon his person was found a second note of £50 value, which was also a forgery. Two letters were also produced, one to Mrs Arlington and another to Mr Monroe, which not only proved that the prisoner had intended to leave the country with strange abruptness, but the contents of which actually appeared to point at the crime now alleged against him, as the motive of his flight. Markham was certainly astounded, when he heard the stress laid upon those letters by the solicitor for the prosecution, and the manner in which their real meaning was made to tell against him. The magistrate called upon him for his defence, and Markham, forgetting that McChisel was there to represent him, addressed himself in an earnest tone to Mr Chichester exclaiming, You can now set me right in the eyes of the magistrate, and in the opinion of even the prosecuting council, who seem so anxious to distort every circumstance to my disadvantage. I really am not aware, said Mr Chichester, caressing his chin in a very nonchalant manner, that I can throw any light upon the subject. My desire is the truth," ejaculated Richard, surprised at the tone and manner of his late friend. Did you not give me that note for five hundred pounds to change for you? And did I not receive the second note from you in exchange for fifty sovereigns? Mr Chichester replied in an indignant negative. The magistrate shook his head. The minister — What do I hear? exclaimed Richard. Mr Chichester, your memory must fail you sadly. I suppose you recollect the occasion upon which Mr Tolbert gave you the five hundred pound note. Mr Tolbert never gave me any note at all. Answered Chichester in a measured and he had been induced to change the one note and had become possessed of the other. This is a very lame story indeed, said the magistrate, and you must try and see if you can get a jury to believe it. You stand committed. Before Richard could make any reply he was lugged out of the dock by the magistrate. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 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 Ellicat The Mysteries of London by George Reynolds bringing his hands and walking hastily up and down the cell. How shall I convince the world that a fearful combination of circumstances has so entangled me in this net that never was a man so wronged before? How can I communicate my dread position to Monroe? However again looks society in the face. How live after this Don't now. Your innocence must conspire on the day of the trial and the jury will do you justice. Now don't take on so Master Richard. Pray don't. As the faithful domestic uttered these words the tears chased each other so rapidly down his cheeks that he seemed to need consolation quite as much as his master. Perhaps he also mark him stop short and seated himself upon the bench. He suddenly became very faint and turned ashy pale. Whitting him hasten to loosen his shirt-collar and the policeman present he mainly procured a glass of water. In a few minutes he recovered and he then endeavored to contemplate with calmness the full extent of the perils which could he have been a parted to their scheme of villainy? After a moment's reflection he answered the question to himself in an affirmative. He had then fallen into a nest of adventurers and swindlers but Diana oh no she could not have been cognizant of the treacherous designs practiced against him she was doubtless made use of as an instrument to further the plans of the conspirators. Such were his convictions and afford her an opportunity of abandoning Eric might be too late an individual who would doubtless involve her in the long run in infamy and peril. To pen a hasty note to Mrs. Arlington was now a duty which she conceived and tailed upon him and which he immediately performed. He then wrote a letter to Mr. Monroe detailing the particulars of his unfortunate position Whitting him my old friend said mark him when he had disposed of these matters we must now separate for the present this letter from Mr. Monroe you will forward by post the other to Mrs. Arlington you will take yourself to Bond Street and deliver into her own hand then addressing himself to McChisel he observed I thank you sir for your attendance here today upon the proper course to be pursued he will also answer any pecuniary demands you may have occasion to make upon him Richard had preserved an unnatural degree of calmness as he uttered these words and Whitting him was himself astonished at the coolness with which his young master delivered his instructions the old butler wept bitterly when he took leave of master Richard and it cost the young man himself no inconsiderable effort to restrain your inferential opinion on this matter demanded the butler of the lawyer as they issued from the door of the police office together why that it was a capital scheme to raise the wind and a very great pity that it did not succeed to a far greater extent cried the professional advisor well if you put that opinion down in your bill and charge the accounts I'm really at a loss to comprehend you said the lawyer of course there are no secrets between you and me indeed you had much better tell me the whole truth truth ejaculated Whitting him of course I shall tell you the truth allow me to ask a question or two then resumed the lawyer I suppose that you were in the plant and divided the swag Mr. Whitting which indeed was so great that it checked all reply well proceeded the shrewd Mr. McChisel it wasn't a bad dodge either and I suppose that this Monroe was a party to the whole concern is it possible Mr. McChisel exclaimed the butler that but the business is awkward very awkward added the solicitor shaking his head it was however fortunate that nothing transpired to implicate you also one pal is at large he can do much for another who was in lavender it would have been worse if you had been lumbered too far worse plant pal lumbered lavender repeated Whitting him with considerable emphasis on each word as he slowly uttered it I suppose you really think my master is guilty of the crime computed to him of course I do reply to McChisel I can see well as anyone well it's no use arguing the point said the butler after a moment's pause here is Mr. Monroe's address perhaps when you have seen him you will arrive at new inclusions Mr. Whitting him then took leave of the solicitor and proceeded to Bond Street within a few yards of the house in which Mrs. Arlington resided the butler ran against an individual who with his hat perched jauntily on his right ear was lounging along and evacuated Mr. Thomas Suggat for it was he what do you mean by coming bold again a gentleman in that kind of way oh my dear sir cried Whitting him is that you I am really perforated with delight to see you Mr. Suggat gave a good long stare at Whitting him and then exclaimed oh it's you is it well I must say that your legs are in a very unfinished condition how sir how demanded the irritated butler why they want a pair of feathers to be sure said Suggat and breaking into a horse laugh he passed rapidly on Whitting him felt humiliated and the knock that he gave at the door of Diana's lodgings was sneaking and subdued in a few minutes however he was ushered into a back room on the first floor where Mrs. Arlington received him here is a letter ma'am which I was to deliver only into your own identical hand is it from your master demanded the enchantress it is ma'am where is Mr. Markham asked Diana receiving the letter with a trembling hand he is now in Bow Street police office ma'am in the course of the day he will be in Newgate and the old butler wiped away a tear good heavens exclaimed Diana then it is really too true she immediately tore open the letter and ran her eye over the contents which were as follow the villainy of one of the individuals with whom you are currently associating and in whom it has been my misfortune to place unlimited confidence will perhaps involve you in an embarrassment similar to the one in which I am now placed I cannot I do not for one moment imagine that you are in by way conversant with those vile schemes I can read your heart I know that you would scorn such a confederary are in your favour your countenance which is engraven upon my memory and which I behold at this moment as if it were really before me forbids all suspicions injurious to your honour take a timely warning then take warning from one who wishes you well and dissolve the connection ere it be too late r.m when shall you see your master again inquired Diana of the butler after the perusal of this letter to God my compliments to him my very best remembrances said Mrs. Arlington and I feel deeply grateful for this communication whitting him bowed and rose to depart and added Diana after a moment's pause if there be anything in which my humble services can be made available pry do not hesitate to come to me indeed I hope you will call often then you don't believe that master Richard is capable of this obliquity madam cried the butler oh no impossible said Diana emphatically thank you ma'am thank you exclaimed whitting him you've done my poor old heart good God bless you ma'am God bless you and with these words the faithful dependent took his departure not a little delighted to think that there was a unmapped the kindness of Diana's manner and the sincerity with which she express herself on that point effectually wiped away from the mind of the butler the reminiscences of McChezles derogatory suspicions and sighs and pertinence after a few minutes profound reflection Diana returned the drawing room where sir Rupert And there was a nervous movement of the underlip that denoted the existence of powerful emotions in her bosom. "'Well, Di,' exclaimed the Baronet, "'You seem annoyed.' "'You will be surprised, gentlemen, when I inform you who has been here,' she said, resuming her seat upon the sofa. "'Indeed,' cried Cheechester, turning pale, "'who could it be?' "'Not an officer, I hope,' exclaimed the Baronet. "'The chimney sleeps, perhaps,' suggested Mr. Talbot. "'A person from Markham,' said Diana seriously. "'By his appearance I should conceive him to be the faithful old servant of his family, of whom I have heard him speak. Whitting him I'll be bound,' ejaculated Cheechester. "'And what did he want?' He brought me a letter from his master,' returned Diana. "'You may read it, if you please.' And she tossed it contemptuously toward Cheechester. "'Read out,' cried Talbot. Mr. Cheechester read the letter aloud, as he was requested. "'And what makes the young spart write to you in that impudent and familiar style,' demanded the Baronet angrily. "'You cannot but admit that his letter is couched in a most friendly manner,' said the lady, somewhat bitterly. "'Friendly be hanged,' cried the Baronet. "'I daresay you feel a most profound and sisterly sympathy for the young girl-bird. After all, your profuse expenditure and extravagance helped to involve me in no end of pecuniary trouble, and I was compelled to have recourse to any means to obtain money. Somebody must suffer, but are mark'em than any one of us.' "'You do well, sir, to reproach me for being the cause of your embarrassments,' answered Diana, her countenance becoming almost purple with indignation. "'Have I not basely lent these rooms to your purposes, and acted as an attraction to the young men whom you have unveiled here to plunder at cards? I have never forgiven myself for the weakness which prompted me thus far to enter into your schemes. But when you informed me of your plans relative to the forged notes, I protested vehemently against so atrocious a measure. Indeed, had it not been for your solemn assurance that you had abandoned the idea, at all events so far as it concerned mark'em, I would have placed him upon his guard in spite of your threats, your menaces, your remonstrances.' Diana had warmed as she proceeded, and by the time she reached the end of her reply to the baronet's villainous speech she had worked herself up almost into a fury of rage and indignation. Her bosom heaved convulsively, her eyes dilated, and her lips expressed ineffable scorn. "'Purdition!' exclaimed the baronet. The world is coming to a pretty pass when one's own mistress undertakes to give lessons in morality. A desperate necessity, sir,' retorted Diana, made me your mistress, but I would sooner seek an asylum at the work-house this moment than become a partner and villainy of this stamp. "'And, as far as I care,' said the baronet, "'you may go to the work-house as soon as you choose.' With these words he rose and put on his hat.' Diana was about to answer this last brutal speech, but she determined not to provoke a discussion which only exposed her to the insolence of the man who was coward enough to reproach her with a frailty which had ministered to his pleasures. She bit her lips to restrain the burst of emotions which struggled for vent, and at that moment her bearing was as haughty and her aspect as proud as the superb dignity of incensed Juneau. "'Come, chichester,' said the baronet, after a pause of a few minutes, I shall be off. "'Talbot, this is no longer a place for any one of us.' "'Madame,' he added, turning with mock ceremony to Diana, "'I wish you a very good afternoon. This is the last time you will ever see me in these apartments.' "'I wish it to be so,' said Diana, still stifling her rage with difficulty. "'And I need scarcely observe,' exclaimed the baronet, "'that after all that is passed between us.' "'Oh, I comprehend you, sir,' interrupted the enchantress scornfully. "'You need not fear me. Your secrets are safe in my possession.' The baronet bowed and strode out of the room, followed by chichester and talbot. The enchantress was then alone. She threw herself at full length upon the sofa, and remained for a long time buried in profound thought. A tear started into her large blue eye, but she hastily wiped it away with her snowy handkerchief. From time to time her lips were compressed with scorn, and then a prolonged sigh would escape her breast. Had she given a free vent to her tears, she would have experienced immediate relief. She endeavored to stifle her passion, and it nearly suffocated her. But how beautiful was she during that painful and fierce struggle with her feelings. Her countenance was flushed, and her eyes, usually so mild and holding, seemed to burn like two stars. No, she exclaimed after a long silence. I must not revenge myself that way. Up to the present moment I have eaten his bread and have been to him as a wife, and I should be guilty of a vile deed of treachery where I to denounce him and his companions. Besides, who would believe my testimony, unsupported by facts, against the indignant denial of a man of rank, family, and title. I must stifle my resentment for the present. The hour of retribution will no doubt arrive sooner or later, and harbour-o shall yet repent the cruel, the cowardly insults he has heaped on my head this day. She paused and again appeared to reflect profoundly. Suddenly a gleam of satisfaction passed over her countenance, and she started up into a sitting posture upon the sofa. The ample skirts of her dress were partly raised by her attitude, and revealed an exquisitely turned leg to the middle of the swell of the calf. The delicate foot, imprisoned in the flesh-coloured stocking of finest silk, tapped upon the carpet in an agitated manner, with the tip of the glossy leather shoe. That gleam of satisfaction which had suddenly appeared upon her countenance gradually expanded into a glow of delight, brilliant and beautiful. Perhaps he thinks that I shall endeavor to win him back again to my arms, she said, musing aloud. Perhaps he imagines that his countenance and support are imperatively necessary to me. Oh, no! Sir Rupert Harbour-O, she exclaimed with a smile of triumph. You may vainly await self-humiliation from me. Tomorrow, yes, so soon as tomorrow shall you see that I can command a position more splendid than the one in which you placed me. Obeying the impulse of her feelings, she hastened to unlock an elegant rosewood writing desk, edged with silver, and from a secret drawer she took several letters, or rather notes, written upon paper of different colours. Upon the various envelopes were seals impressed with armorial bearings, some of which were surrounded by coordinates. She glanced over each in a cursory manner, which showed she was already tolerably familiar with their contents. The greater portion she tossed contemptuously into the fire, a few she placed one upon the other quite in a business-like way upon the table. When she had gone through the entire file, she again directed her attention to those which she had reserved, and as she approves them one after the other she mused in the following manner. Count de la Strange is as brilliant in his offers and immensely rich, no doubt, but he is detestably conceited and would think more of himself than of his mistress. His appeal must be rejected. And she threw the French nobleman's perfumed pistol into the fire. This, she continued taking up another, is from Lord Templeton. Five thousand a year is certainly handsome, but then he himself is so old and ugly. Away with his suitor at once. The English pier's billet-doux followed that of the French Count. Here is a beautiful specimen of calligraphy, resumed Diana, taking up the third letter, but all the sentiments are copied, referred for word, out of the love scenes in Anne Radcliffe's romances. Never was such gross plagiarism. He merits the punishment did thus inflict upon him, and her plump white hand crushed the epistol ere she threw it into the fire. But what have we here? Oh! The German barons killing a dress interspersed with remarks upon the philosophy of love. Ah, my lord, love was not made for philosophers. The philosophers are incapable of love, so we will have none of you. Another offering to the fire. Here is the burning address of the Greek attaché with a hard name. It is prettily written, but who could possibly enter upon terms with an individual of the name of the Sorokhrissani chakrasides, to the flames when the Greek lovers note also, ah, this seems as if it were to be the successful candidate, so Diana, carefully perusing the last remaining letter. It is written upon a plain sheet of white paper and without scent. But then the style, how manly, yes, decidedly, the Earl of Warrington has gained the prize. He is rich, unmarried, handsome, and still in the prime of life. There is no room for hesitation. The enchantress immediately penned the following note. I should have replied without delay to your lordship's letter of yesterday week, but have been suffering severely from cold and bad spirits. The former has been expelled by my physician. The latter can only be forced to decamp by the presence of your lordship, Diane Arlington. Having dispatched this note to the Earl of Warrington, the enchantress retired to her bedroom to prepare her toilet for the arrival of the nobleman around whom she had thus suddenly decided upon throwing her magic spells. At eight o'clock that evening a brilliant equippage stopped at the door of the house in which Mrs. Arlington resided. The Earl of Warrington alighted and was forthwith conducted into the presence of the enchantress. And never was she more bewitching. Never had she appeared more transcendently lovely. A dress of the richest black velvet, very low in the corsage, set off her voluptuous charms and displayed the pure and brilliant whiteness of the skin to the highest advantage. Her ears were adorned with pendants of diamonds, and a tiara glittering with the same precious stones encircled her brow. There was a soft and languishing melancholy in her deep, blue eyes, and an expression of her countenance, which formed an agreeable contrast to the dazzling loveliness of her person and the splendor of her attire. She was enchanting, indeed. Did we say that the nobleman, who had already been introduced to her and admired her, was enraptured with the prize that thus surrendered itself to him? Diana became the mistress of the Earl of Warrington, and the very next day removed to a splendid suite of apartments in Albemarle Street, while his lordship's upholsterers furnished a house for her reception. CHAPTER XXV THE ENCHANTRESS