Auriol; or, The Elixir of Life

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  CHAPTER II

  THE DOG-FANCIER

  The Rookery! Who that has passed Saint Giles's, on the way to the city,or coming from it, but has caught a glimpse, through some narrowopening, of its squalid habitations, and wretched and ruffianlyoccupants! Who but must have been struck with amazement, that such ahuge receptacle of vice and crime should be allowed to exist in the veryheart of the metropolis, like an ulcerated spot, capable of tainting thewhole system! Of late, the progress of improvement has caused itsremoval; but whether any less cogent motive would have abated thenuisance may be questioned. For years the evil was felt and complainedof, but no effort was made to remedy it, or to cleanse these worse thanAugean stables. As the place is now partially, if not altogether, sweptaway, and a wide and airy street passes through the midst of its foulrecesses, a slight sketch may be given of its former appearance.

  Entering a narrow street, guarded by posts and cross-bars, a few stepsfrom the crowded thoroughfare brought you into a frightful region, therefuge, it was easy to perceive, of half the lawless charactersinfesting the metropolis. The coarsest ribaldry assailed your ears, andnoisome odours afflicted your sense of smell. As you advanced, pickingyour way through kennels flowing with filth, or over putrescent heaps ofrubbish and oyster-shells, all the repulsive and hideous features of theplace were displayed before you. There was something savagelypicturesque in the aspect of the place, but its features were tooloathsome to be regarded with any other feeling than disgust. The houseslooked as sordid, and as thickly crusted with the leprosy of vice, astheir tenants. Horrible habitations they were, in truth. Many of themwere without windows, and where the frames were left, brown paper or tinsupplied the place of glass; some even wanted doors, and no effort wasmade to conceal the squalor within. On the contrary, it seemed to beintruded on observation. Miserable rooms, almost destitute of furniture;floors and walls caked with dirt, or decked with coarse flaring prints;shameless and abandoned-looking women; children without shoes andstockings, and with scarcely a rag to their backs: these were the chiefobjects that met the view. Of men, few were visible--the majority beingout on business, it is to be presumed; but where a solitary stragglerwas seen, his sinister looks and mean attire were in perfect keepingwith the spot. So thickly inhabited were these wretched dwellings, thatevery chamber, from garret to cellar, swarmed with inmates. As to thecellars, they looked like dismal caverns, which a wild beast would shun.Clothes-lines were hung from house to house, festooned with every kindof garment. Out of the main street branched several alleys and passages,all displaying the same degree of misery, or, if possible, worse, andteeming with occupants. Personal security, however, forbade any attemptto track these labyrinths; but imagination, after the specimen afforded,could easily picture them. It was impossible to move a step withoutinsult or annoyance. Every human being seemed brutalised and degraded;and the women appeared utterly lost to decency, and made the street ringwith their cries, their quarrels, and their imprecations. It was apositive relief to escape from this hotbed of crime to the worldwithout, and breathe a purer atmosphere.

  Such being the aspect of the Rookery in the daytime, what must it havebeen when crowded with its denizens at night! Yet at such an hour itwill now be necessary to enter its penetralia.

  After escaping from the ruined house in the Vauxhall Road, the tworuffians shaped their course towards Saint Giles's, running the greaterpart of the way, and reaching the Broadway just as the church clockstruck two. Darting into a narrow alley, and heedless of anyobstructions they encountered in their path, they entered a somewhatwider cross-street, which they pursued for a short distance, and thenstruck into an entry, at the bottom of which was a swing-door thatadmitted them into a small court, where they found a dwarfish personwrapped in a tattered watchman's greatcoat, seated on a stool with ahorn lantern in his hand and a cutty in his mouth, the glow of whichlighted up his hard, withered features. This was the deputy-porter ofthe lodging-house they were about to enter. Addressing him by the nameof Old Parr, the ruffians passed on, and lifting the latch of anotherdoor, entered a sort of kitchen, at the farther end of which blazed acheerful fire, with a large copper kettle boiling upon it. On one sideof the room was a deal table, round which several men of sinister aspectand sordid attire were collected, playing, at cards. A smaller table ofthe same material stood near the fire, and opposite it was a staircaseleading to the upper rooms. The place was dingy and dirty in theextreme, the floors could not have been scoured for years, and the wallswere begrimed with filth. In one corner, with his head resting on a heapof coals and coke, lay a boy almost as black as a chimney-sweep, fastasleep. He was the waiter. The principal light was afforded by a candlestuck against the wall, with a tin reflector behind it. Before the fire,with his back turned towards it, stood a noticeable individual, clad ina velveteen jacket with ivory buttons, a striped waistcoat, drab knees,a faded black silk neckcloth tied in a great bow, and a pair of ancientWellingtons ascending half-way up his legs, which lookeddisproportionately thin when compared with the upper part of his square,robustious, and somewhat pursy frame. His face was broad, jolly, andgood-humoured, with a bottle-shaped nose, fleshy lips, and light greyeyes, glistening with cunning and roguery. His hair, which dangled inlong flakes over his ears and neck, was of a dunnish red, as were alsohis whiskers and beard. A superannuated white castor, with a blackhat-band round it, was cocked knowingly on one side of his head, andgave him a flashy and sporting look. His particular vocation was mademanifest by the number of dogs he had about him. A beautifulblack-and-tan spaniel, of Charles the Second's breed, popped its shortsnubby nose and long silken ears out of each coat-pocket. A pug wasthrust into his breast, and he carried an exquisite Blenheim undereither arm. At his feet reposed an Isle of Skye terrier, and a partlycropped French poodle, of snowy whiteness, with a red worsted ribandround his throat. This person, it need scarcely be said, was adog-fancier, or, in other words, a dealer in, and a stealer of, dogs, aswell as a practiser of all the tricks connected with that nefarioustrade. His self-satisfied air made it evident he thought himself asmart, clever fellow,--and adroit and knavish he was, no doubt,--whilehis droll, plausible, and rather winning manners helped him materiallyto impose upon his customers. His real name was Taylor, but he was knownamong his companions by the appellation of Ginger. On the entrance ofthe Sandman and the Tinker, he nodded familiarly to them, and with a slylook inquired--"Vell, my 'arties--wot luck?"

  "Oh, pretty middlin'," replied the Sandman gruffly.

  And seating himself at the table, near the fire, he kicked up the lad,who was lying fast asleep on the coals, and bade him fetch a pot ofhalf-and-half. The Tinker took a place beside him, and they waited insilence the arrival of the liquor, which, when it came, was disposed ofat a couple of pulls; while Mr. Ginger, seeing they were engaged,sauntered towards the card-table, attended by his four-footedcompanions.

  "And now," said the Sandman, unable to control his curiosity longer, andtaking out his pocket-book, "we'll see what fortun' has given us."

  The Dog-fancier.]

  So saying, he unclasped the pocket-book, while the Tinker bent overhim in eager curiosity. But their search for money was fruitless. Not asingle bank-note was forthcoming. There were several memoranda and slipsof paper, a few cards, and an almanac for the year--that was all. It wasa great disappointment.

  "So we've had all this trouble for nuffin', and nearly got shot into thebargain," cried the Sandman, slapping down the book on the table with anoath. "I vish I'd never undertaken the job."

  "Don't let's give it up in sich an 'urry," replied the Tinker; "summatmay be made on it yet. Let's look over them papers."

  "Look 'em over yourself," rejoined the Sandman, pushing the book towardshim. "I've done wi' 'em. Here, lazy-bones, bring two glasses o'rum-and-water--stiff, d'ye hear?"

  While the sleepy youth bestirred himself to obey these injunctions, theTinker read over every memorandum in the pocket-book, and then proceededcarefully to examine the different scraps of paper with wh
ich it wasfilled. Not content with one perusal, he looked them all over again, andthen began to rub his hands with great glee.

  "Wot's the matter?" cried the Sandman, who had lighted a cutty, and wasquietly smoking it. "Wot's the row, eh?"

  "Vy, this is it," replied the Tinker, unable to contain hissatisfaction; "there's secrets contained in this here pocket-book as'llbe worth a hundred pound and better to us. We ha'n't had our trouble fornuffin'."

  "Glad to hear it!" said the Sandman, looking hard at him. "Wot kind o'secrets are they?"

  "Vy, _hangin' secrets_," replied the Tinker, with mysterious emphasis."He seems to be a terrible chap, and to have committed murderwholesale."

  "Wholesale!" echoed the Sandman, removing the pipe from his lips. "Thatsounds awful. But what a precious donkey he must be to register hiscrimes i' that way."

  "He didn't expect the pocket-book to fall into our hands," said theTinker.

  "Werry likely not," replied the Sandman; "but somebody else might seeit. I repeat, he must be a fool. S'pose we wos to make a entry ofeverythin' we does. Wot a nice balance there'd be agin us ven ouraccounts comed to be wound up!"

  "Ourn is a different bus'ness altogether," replied the Tinker. "Thisseems a werry mysterious sort o' person. Wot age should you take him tobe?"

  "Vy, five-an'-twenty at the outside," replied the Sandman.

  "Five-an'-sixty 'ud be nearer the mark," replied the Tinker. "There'sdates as far back as that."

  "Five-an'-sixty devils!" cried the Sandman; "there must be some mistakei' the reckonin' there."

  "No, it's all clear an' reg'lar," rejoined the other; "and that doesn'tseem to be the end of it neither. I looked over the papers twice, andone, dated 1780, refers to some other dokiments."

  "They must relate to his granddad, then," said the Sandman; "it'simpossible they can refer to him."

  "But I tell 'ee they _do_ refer to him," said the Tinker, somewhatangrily, at having his assertion denied; "at least, if his own word's tobe taken. Anyhow, these papers is waluable to us. If no one elsebelieves in 'em, it's clear he believes in 'em hisself, and will be gladto buy 'em from us."

  "That's a view o' the case worthy of an Old Bailey lawyer," replied theSandman. "Wot's the gemman's name?"

  "The name on the card is AURIOL DARCY," replied the Tinker.

  "Any address?" asked the Sandman.

  The Tinker shook his head.

  "That's unlucky agin," said the Sandman. "Ain't there no sort o' clue?"

  "None votiver, as I can perceive," said the Tinker.

  "Vy, zounds, then, ve're jist vere ve started from," cried the Sandman."But it don't matter. There's not much chance o' makin' a bargin vithhim. The crack o' the skull I gave him has done his bus'ness."

  "Nuffin' o' the kind," replied the Tinker. "He alvays recovers fromevery kind of accident."

  "Alvays recovers!" exclaimed the Sandman, in amazement. "Wot aconstitootion he must have!"

  "Surprisin'!" replied the Tinker; "he never suffers from injuries--atleast, not much; never grows old; and never expects to die; for hementions wot he intends doin' a hundred years hence."

  "Oh, he's a lu-nattic!" exclaimed the Sandman, "a downright lu-nattic;and that accounts for his wisitin' that 'ere ruined house, anda-fancyin' he heerd some one talk to him. He's mad, depend upon it. Thatis, if I ain't cured him."

  "I'm of a different opinion," said the Tinker.

  "And so am I," said Mr. Ginger, who had approached unobserved, andoverheard the greater part of their discourse.

  "Vy, vot can you know about it, Ginger?" said the Sandman, looking up,evidently rather annoyed.

  "I only know this," replied Ginger, "that you've got a good case, and ifyou'll let me into it, I'll engage to make summat of it."

  "Vell, I'm agreeable," said the Sandman.

  "And so am I," added the Tinker.

  "Not that I pays much regard to wot you've bin a readin' in his papers,"purused Ginger; "the gemman's evidently half-cracked, if he ain'tcracked altogether--but he's jist the person to work upon. He fancieshisself immortal--eh?"

  "Exactly so," replied the Tinker.

  "And he also fancies he's committed a lot o' murders?" perused Ginger.

  "A desperate lot," replied the Tinker.

  "Then he'll be glad to buy those papers at any price," said Ginger."Ve'll deal vith him in regard to the pocket-book, as I deals vithregard to a dog--ask a price for its restitootion."

  "We must find him out first," said the Sandman.

  "There's no difficulty in that," rejoined Ginger. "You must beconstantly on the look-out. You're sure to meet him some time or other."

  "That's true," replied the Sandman; "and there's no fear of his knowin'us, for the werry moment he looked round I knocked him on the head."

  "Arter all," said the Tinker, "there's no branch o' the perfession sosafe as yours, Ginger. The law is favourable to you, and the beaks isafeerd to touch you. I think I shall turn dog-fancier myself."

  "It's a good business," replied Ginger, "but it requires a hedication.As I wos sayin', we gets a high price sometimes for restorin' afavourite, especially ven ve've a soft-hearted lady to deal vith.There's some vimen as fond o' dogs as o' their own childer, and ven vegets one o' their precious pets, ve makes 'em ransom it as the brigandsyou see at the Adelphi or the Surrey sarves their prisoners, threatenin'to send first an ear, and then a paw, or a tail, and so on. I'll tellyou wot happened t'other day. There wos a lady--a Miss Vite--as wasdesperate fond of her dog. It wos a ugly warmint, but no matter forthat--the creater had gained her heart. Vell, she lost it; and, somehowor other, I found it. She vos in great trouble, and a friend o' minecalls to say she can have the dog agin, but she must pay eight pound forit. She thinks this dear, and a friend o' her own adwises her to wait,sayin' better terms will be offered; so I sends vord by my friend thatif she don't come down at once the poor animal's throat vill be cut thatwerry night."

  "Ha!--ha!--ha!" laughed the others.

  "Vell, she sent four pound, and I put up with it," pursued Ginger; "butabout a month arterwards she loses her favourite agin, and, strange tosay, I finds it. The same game is played over agin, and she comes downwith another four pound. But she takes care this time that I shan'trepeat the trick; for no sooner does she obtain persession of herfavourite than she embarks in the steamer for France, in the hope ofkeeping her dog safe there."

  "Oh! Miss Bailey, unfortinate MissBailey!--Fol-de-riddle-tol-ol-lol--unfortinate Miss Bailey!" sang theTinker.

  "But there's dog-fanciers in France, ain't there?" asked the Sandman.

  "Lor' bless 'ee, yes," replied Ginger; "there's as many fanciers i'France as here. Vy, ve drives a smartish trade wi' them through themforeign steamers. There's scarcely a steamer as leaves the port o'London but takes out a cargo o' dogs. Ve sells 'em to the stewards,stokers, and sailors--cheap--and no questins asked. They goes to Ostend,Antverp, Rotterdam, Hamburg, and sometimes to Havre. There's a MounseerCoqquilu as comes over to buy dogs, and ve takes 'em to him at a housenear Billinsgit market."

  "Then you're alvays sure o' a ready market somehow," observed theSandman.

  "Sartin," replied Ginger, "cos the law's so kind to us. Vy, bless you, aperliceman can't detain us, even if he knows ve've a stolen dog in ourpersession, and ve svears it's our own; and yet he'd stop you in aminnit if he seed you with a suspicious-lookin' bundle under your arm.Now, jist to show you the difference atwixt the two perfessions:--Isteals a dog--walue, maybe, fifty pound, or p'raps more. Even if I'mcatched i' the fact I may get fined twenty pound, or have six months'imprisonment; vile, if you steals an old fogle, walue three fardens,you'll get seven years abroad, to a dead certainty."

  "That seems hard on us," observed the Sandman reflectively.

  "It's the _law_!" exclaimed Ginger triumphantly. "Now, ve generallyescapes by payin' the fine, 'cos our pals goes and steals more dogs toraise the money. Ve alvays stands by each other. There's a reg'larhorganisation among us; so ve can alvays bring vitnesses to svear v
ot velikes, and ve so puzzles the beaks, that the case gets dismissed, andthe constable says, 'Vich party shall I give the dog to, your vorship?'Upon vich, the beak replies, a-shakin' of his vise noddle, 'Give it tothe person in whose persession it was found. I have nuffin' more to dovith it.' In course the dog is delivered up to us."

  "The law seems made for dog-fanciers," remarked the Tinker.

  "Wot d'ye think o' this?" pursued Ginger. "I wos a-standin' at thecorner o' Gray's Inn Lane vith some o' my pals near a coach-stand, ven alady passes by vith this here dog--an' a beauty it is, a real long-earedCharley--a follerin' of her. Vell, the moment I spies it, I unties myapron, whips up the dog, and covers it up in a trice. Vell, the ladysees me, an' gives me in charge to a perliceman. But that si'nifiesnuffin'. I brings six vitnesses to svear the dog vos mine, and Iactually had it since it vos a blind little puppy; and, wot's more, Ibrings its _mother_, and that settles the pint. So in course I'mdischarged; the dog is given up to me; and the lady goes avay lamentin'.I then plays the amiable, an' offers to sell it her for twenty guineas,seein' as how she had taken a fancy to it; but she von't bite. So if Idon't sell it next week, I shall send it to Mounseer Coqquilu. The onlyvay you can go wrong is to steal a dog wi' a collar on, for if you do,you may get seven years' transportation for a bit o' leather and a brassplate vorth a shillin', vile the animal, though vorth a hundred pound,can't hurt you. There's _law_ again--ha, ha!"

  "Dog-fancier's law!" laughed the Sandman.

  "Some of the Fancy is given to cruelty," pursued Ginger, "and crops adog's ears, or pulls out his teeth to disguise him; but I'm too fond o'the animal for that. I may frighten old ladies sometimes, as I told youafore, but I never seriously hurts their pets. Nor did I ever kill a dogfor his skin, as some on 'em does."

  "And you're always sure o' gettin' a dog, if you vants it, I s'pose?"inquired the Tinker.

  "Alvays," replied Ginger. "No man's dog is safe. I don't care how he'skept, ve're sure to have him at last. Ve feels our vay with thesarvents, and finds out from them the walley the master or missis setson the dog, and soon after that the animal's gone. Vith a bit o' liver,prepared in my partic'lar vay, I can tame the fiercest dog as everbarked, take him off his chain, an' bring him arter me at a gallop."

  "And do respectable parties ever buy dogs knowin' they're stolen?"inquired the Tinker.

  "Ay, to be sure," replied Ginger; "sometimes first-rate nobs. They putus up to it themselves; they'll say, 'I've jist left my LordSo-and-So's, and there I seed a couple o' the finest pointers I everclapped eyes on. I vant you to get me _jist sich another couple_.'Vell, ve understands in a minnit, an' in doo time the identicle dogsfinds their vay to our customer."

  "Oh! that's how it's done?" remarked the Sandman.

  "Yes, that's the vay," replied Ginger. "Sometimes a party'll vant acouple o' dogs for the shootin' season; and then ve asks, 'Vich vay areyou a-goin'--into Surrey or Kent?' And accordin' as the answer is givenve arranges our plans."

  "Vell, yourn appears a profitable and safe employment, I must say,"remarked the Sandman.

  "Perfectly so," replied Ginger. "Nothin' can touch us till dogs isdeclared by statute to be property, and stealin' 'em a misdemeanour. Andthat won't occur in my time."

  "Let's hope not," rejoined the other two.

  "To come back to the pint from vich we started," said the Tinker; "ourgemman's case is not so surprisin' as it at first appears. There aresome persons as believe they never will die--and I myself am of the sameopinion. There's our old deputy here--him as ve calls Old Parr--vy, hedeclares he lived in Queen Bess's time, recollects King Charles bein'beheaded perfectly vell, and remembers the Great Fire o' London, as ifit only occurred yesterday."

  "Walker!" exclaimed Ginger, putting his finger to his nose.

  "You may larf, but it's true," replied the Tinker. "I recollect an oldman tellin' me that he knew the deputy sixty years ago, and he lookedjist the same then as now,--neither older nor younger."

  "Humph!" exclaimed Ginger. "He don't look so old now."

  "That's the cur'ousest part of it," said the Tinker. "He don't like totalk of his age unless you can get him i' the humour; but he once toldme he didn't know why he lived so long, unless it were owin' to a potionhe'd swallowed, vich his master, who was a great conjurer in QueenBess's days, had brew'd."

  "Pshaw!" exclaimed Ginger. "I thought you too knowin' a cove, Tinker, tobe gulled by such an old vife's story as that."

  "Let's have the old fellow in and talk to him," replied the Tinker."Here, lazy-bones," he added, rousing the sleeping youth, "go an' tellOld Parr ve vants his company over a glass o' rum-an'-vater."