CHAPTER XXXI. A LESSON FOR EAVES-DROPPING.
Forester--for so to the end we must call him--but exemplified theold adage in his haste. The debility of long illness was successfullycombated for some hours by the fever of excitement; but as that woreoff, symptoms of severe malady again exhibited themselves, and whenon the second evening of his journey he arrived at Bangor, he wasdangerously ill. With a head throbbing, and a brain almost mad, he threwhimself upon a bed, perhaps the thought of his abortive effort to reachIreland the most agonizing feeling of his tortured mind. His first carewas to inquire after the sailing of the packet; and learning that thevessel would leave within an hour, he avowed his resolve to go at everyhazard. As the time drew nigh, however, more decided evidences of feverset in, and the medical man who had been called to his aid pronouncedthat his life would pay the penalty were he to persist in his rashresolve. His was not a temper to yield to persuasion on selfish grounds,and nothing short of his actual inability to endure moving from where helay at last compelled him to cede; even then he ordered his only servantto take the despatches which Lord Castlereagh had given him, and proceedwith them to Dublin, where he should seek out Mr. Bicknell, and placethem in his hands, with strict injunctions to have them forwarded toLady Eleanor Darcy at once. The burning anxiety of a mind weakened bya tedious and severe malady, the fever of travelling, and the impatientstruggles be made to be clear and explicit in his directions, repeatedas they were full twenty times over, all conspired to exaggerate theworst features of his case; and ere the packet sailed, his head waswandering in wild delirium.
Linwood knew his master too well to venture on a contradiction; andalthough with very grave doubts that he should ever see him again alive,he set out, resolving to spare no exertions to be back soon again inBangor. The transit of the Channel forty-five years ago was, however,very different from that at present, and it was already the evening ofthe following day when he reached Dublin.
There was no difficulty in finding out Mr. Bicknell's residence; a veryshowy brass-plate on a door in a fashionable street proclaimed the houseof the well-known man of law. He was not at home, however, nor would befor some hours; he had gone out on a matter of urgent business, and leftorders that except for some most pressing reason, he was not to be sentfor. Linwood did not hesitate to pronounce his business such, and atlength obtained the guidance of a servant to the haunt in question.
It was in a street of a third or fourth-rate rank, called StaffordStreet, that Bicknell's servant now stopped, and having made more thanone inquiry as to name and number, at last knocked at the door of asombre-looking, ruinous old house, whose windows, broken or patched withpaper, bespoke an air of poverty and destitution. A child in a raggedand neglected dress opened the door, and answering to the question "IfMr. Bicknell were there," in the affirmative, led Linwood up stairscreaking as they went with rottenness and decay.
"You 're to rap there, and he 'll come to you," said the child, asthey reached the landing, where two doors presented themselves; and sosaying, she slipped noiselessly and stealthily down the stairs, leavinghim alone in the gloomy lobby. Linwood was not without astonishmentat the place in which he found himself; but there was no time for theindulgence of such a feeling, and he knocked, at first gently, andthen, as no answer came, more loudly, and at last when several minuteselapsed, without any summons to enter, he tapped sharply at the panelwith his cane. Still there was no reply; the deep silence of the oldhouse seemed like that of a church at midnight; not a sound was heardto break it. There was a sense of dreariness and gloom over the ruinousspot and the fast-closing twilight that struck Linwood deeply; and it isprobable, had the mission with which he was intrusted been one of lessmoment than his master seemed to think it, that Linwood would quietlyhave descended the stairs, and deferred his interview with Mr. Bicknellto a more suitable time and place. He had come, however, bent onfulfilling his charge; and so, after waiting what he believed to behalf an hour, and which might possibly have been five or ten minutes, heapplied his hand to the lock, and entered the room.
It was a large, low-ceilinged apartment, whose moth-eaten furnitureseemed to rival with the building itself, and which, though once notwithout some pretension to respectability, was now crumbling to decay,or coarsely mended by some rude hand. A door, not quite shut, led intoan inner apartment; and from this room the sound of voices proceeded,whose conversation in all probability had prevented Linwood's summonsfrom being heard.
Whether the secret instincts of his calling were the prompter,--forLinwood was a valet,--or that the strange circumstances in whichhe found himself had suggested a spirit of curiosity, but Linwoodapproached the door and peeped in. The sin of eaves-dropping, like mostother sins, would seem only difficult at the first step; the subsequentones came easily, for, as the listener established himself in a positionto hear what went forward, he speedily became interested in what heheard.
By the gray half-light three figures were seen. One was a lady; so atleast her position and attitude bespoke her, although her shawl was ofa coarse and humble stuff, and her straw bonnet showed signs of time andseason. She sat back in a deep leather chair, with hands folded, and herhead slightly thrown forward, as if intently listening to the personwho at a distance of half the room addressed lier. He was a thick-set,powerful man, in a jockey-cut coat and top-boots; a white hat, somewhatcrushed and travel-stained, was at his feet, and across it a heavyhorsewhip; his collar was confined by a single fold of a spottedhandkerchief that thus displayed a brawny throat and a deep beard ofcurly black hair that made the head appear unnaturally large. The thirdfigure was of a little, dapper, smart-looking personage, with a neatlypowdered head and a scrupulously white cravat, who, standing partlybehind the lady's chair, bestowed an equal attention on the speaker.
The green-coated man, it was clear to see, was of an order in life farinferior to the others, and in the manner of his address, his attitudeas he sat, and his whole bearing, exhibited a species of rude deferenceto the listeners.
"Well, Jack," cried the little man, in a sharp lively voice, "we knewall these facts before; what we were desirous of was something likeproof,--something that might be brought out into open court and before ajury."
"I'm afraid then, sir," replied the other, "I can't help you there. Itold Mr. Daly all I knew and all I suspected, when I was up in Newgate;and if he had n't been in such a hurry that night to leave Dublin forthe north, I could have brought him to the very house this fellow Garretwas living in."
"Who is Garret?" broke in the lady, in a deep, full voice.
"The late Mr. Gleeson's butler, ma'am," said the little man; "a personwe have never been able to come at. To summon him as a witness wouldavail us nothing; it is his private testimony that might be of such useto us."
"Well, you see, sir," continued the green coat, or, as he was familiarlynamed by the other, Jack, whom, perhaps, our reader has alreadyrecognized as Freney, the others being Miss Daly and Bicknell,-"well,you see, sir, Mr. Daly was angry at the way things was done thatnight,--and sure enough he had good cause,-and sorra bit of a word he 'dspeak to me when I was standing with the tears in my eyes to thank him;no, nor he wouldn't take the mare that was ready saddled and bridled inHealey's stables waiting for him, but he turned on his heel with 'D----nyou for a common highwayman; it's what a man of blood and birth evergets by stretching a hand to save you.'"
"He should have thought of that before," remarked Miss Daly, solemnly.
"Faith, and if he did, ma'am, your humble servant would have had todance upon nothing!" rejoined Freney, with a laugh that was very farfrom mirthful.
"And what was the circumstance which gave Mr. Daly so much displeasure,Jack?" asked Bicknell. "I thought that everything went on exactly as hehad planned it."
"Quite the contrary, sir; nothing was the way it ought to be. The firewas never thought of--"
"Never thought of! Do you mean to say it was an accident?"
"No, I don't, sir; I mean that all we wanted was to make believe t
hatthe jail was on fire, which was easy enough with burning straw; the restwas all planned safe and sure. And when we saw the real flames shootingup, sorra one was more frightened than some of ourselves; each accusingthe other, cursing and shouting, and crying like mad! Ay, indeed! therewas an ould fellow in for sheep-stealing, and nothing would convince himbut that it was 'the devil took us at our word,' and sent his own firefor us. Not one of them was more puzzled than myself. I turned it everyway in my mind, and could make nothing of it; for although I knew wellthat Mr. Daly would burn down Dublin from Barrack Street to the NorthWall if he had a good reason for it, I knew also he 'd not do it out ofmere devilment. Besides, ma'am, the way matters was going, it waslikely none of us would escape. There was I--saving your presence--witheight-pound fetters on my legs. Ay, faix! I went down the ladder withthem afterwards."
"But the fire."
"I 'm coming to it, sir. I was sitting this way, with my chin on myhands, at the window of my cell, trying to get a taste of fresh air, forthe place was thick of smoke, when I seen the flames darting out ofthe windows of a public-house at the corner, the sign of the 'CrackedPadlock,' and at the same minute out came the fire through the roof, agreat red spike of flame higher than the chimney. 'That's no accident,'says I to myself, 'whatever them that's doing it means;' and sureenough, the blaze broke out in the other corner of the street just asI said the words. Well, ma'am, of all the terrible yells and cries thatwas ever heard, the prisoners set up then; for though there was eightlying for execution on Saturday, and twice as many more very sure of thesame end after the sessions, none of us liked to face such a dreadfulthing as fire. Just then, ma'am, at that very minute, there came, asit might be, under my window, a screech so loud and so piercing thatit went above all the other cries, just the way the yellow fire dartedthrough the middle of the thick lazy smoke. Sorra one could give such ascreech but a throat I knew well, and so I called out at the top of myvoice, 'Ah, ye limb of the devil, this is your work!' and as sure asI 'm here, there came a laugh in my ears; and whether it was the devilhimself gave it or Jemmy, I often doubted since."
"And who is Jemmy?" asked Bicknell.
"A bit of a 'gossoon' I had to mind the horses, and meet me with a beasthere and there, as I wanted. The greatest villain for wickedness thatwas ever pinioned!"
"And so he was really the cause of the fire?"
"Ay, was he! He not only hid the tinder and chips--"
Just as Freney had got thus far, he drew his legs up close beneath him,sunk down his head as if into his neck, and with a spring, such as atiger might have given, cleared the space between himself and the door,and rolled over on the floor, with the trembling figure of Linwoodunder him. So terribly sudden was the leap, that Miss Daly and Bicknellscarcely saw the bound ere they beheld him with one hand upon thevictim's throat, while with the other he drew forth a clasp-knife, andopened the blade with his teeth.
"Keep back, keep back!" said Freney, as Bicknell drew nigh; and thewords came thick and guttural, like the deep growl of a mastiff.
"Who are you, and what brings you here?" said Freney, as, setting hisknee on the other's chest, he relinquished the grasp by which he hadalmost choked him.
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"I came to see Mr. Bicknell," muttered the nearly lifeless valet.
"What did you want with me?"
"Wait a bit," interposed Freney. "Who brought you here? How came you tobe standing by that door?"
"Mr. Bicknell's servant showed me the house, and a child brought me tothis room."
"There, sir," said Freney, turning his head towards
Bicknell, without releasing the strong pressure by which he pinned theother down,--"there, sir, so much for your caution. You told me if Icame to this lady's lodgings here, that I was safe, and now here 's thisfellow has heard us and everything we 've said, maybe these two hours."
"I only heard about Newgate," muttered the miserable Linwood; "I was buta few minutes at the door, and was going to knock. I came from Lord Wallincourt with papers of great importance for Mr. Bicknell. I have them,if you'll let me--"
"Let him get up," said Miss Daly, calmly.
Freney stood back, and retired between his victim and the door, where hestood, with folded arms and bent brows, watching him.
"He has almost broke in my ribs," said Linwood, as he pressed his handsto his side, with a grimace of true suffering.
"So much for eaves-dropping. You need expect no pity from me," said MissDaly, sternly. "Where are these papers?"
"My Lord told me," said the man, as he took them from his breast,"that I was to give them into Mr. Bicknell's own hands, with strictestdirections to have them forwarded at the instant But for that," addedhe, whining, "I had never come to this."
"Let it be a lesson to you about listening, sir," said Miss Daly. "Hadmy brother been here--"
"Oh, by the powers!" broke in Freney, "he 'd have pitched you neckand crop into the water-hogshead below, if your master was theLord-Lieutenant."
By this time Bicknell was busy reading the several addresses on thepackets, and the names inscribed in the corners of each.
"If I 'm not mistaken, madam," said he to Miss Daly, "this LordWallincourt is the new peer, whose brother died at Lisbon. The name isForester."
"Yes, sir, you are right," muttered Linwood.
"The same Mr. Richard Forester my brother knew, the cousin of LordCastlereagh?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Linwood.
"Where is he? Is he here?"
"No, ma'am, he's lying dangerously ill, if he be yet alive, at Bangor.He wanted to bring these papers over himself, but was only able to getso far when the fever came on him again."
"Is he alone?"
"Quite alone, ma'am, no one knows even his name. He would not let mesay who he was."
Miss Daly turned towards Bicknell, and spoke for several minutes in aquick and eager voice. Meanwhile Freney, now convinced that he had notto deal with a spy or a thief-catcher, came near and addressed Linwood.
"I did n't mean to hurt ye till I was sure ye deserved it, but neverplay that game any more."
Linwood appeared to receive both apology and precept with equaldiscontent.
"Another thing," resumed Freney: "I 'm sure you are an agreeable youngman in the housekeeper's room and the butler's parlor, very pleasantand conversable, with a great deal of anecdote and amusing stories;but, mind me, let nothing tempt ye to talk about what ye heard mesay tonight. It's not that I care about myself,--it's worse thanjail-breaking they can tell of me,--but I won't have another namementioned. D 'ye mind me?"
As if to enforce the caution, he seized the listener between his fingerand thumb; and whether there was something magnetic in the touch, orthat it somehow conveyed a foretaste of what disobedience might cost,but Linwood winced till the tears came, and stammered out,--
"You may depend on it, sir, I 'll never mention it."
"I believe you," said the robber, with a grin, and fell back to hisplace.
"I will not lose a post, rely upon it, madam," said Bick-nell; "and am Ito suppose you have determined on this journey?"
"Yes," said Miss Daly, "the case admits of little hesitation; the youngman is alone, friendless, and unknown. I 'll hasten over at once,--I amtoo old for slander, Mr. Bicknell. Besides, let me see who will dare toutter it."
There was a sternness in her features as she spoke that made herseem the actual image of her brother. Then, turning to Linwood, shecontinued,--
"I 'll go over this evening to Bangor in the packet, let me find youthere."
"I 'll see him safe on board, ma'am," said Freney, with a leer, while,slipping his arm within the valet's, he half led, half drew him from theroom.
The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 2 (of 2) Page 31