CHAPTER CXIV.

OLD DEATH IN THE DUNGEON.

It was five o’clock in the evening of the following day; and Old Death

was crouched up, like a wild beast, upon his bed in the dungeon, which

was now lighted by the lamp that Esther de Medina had given him.

His natural emaciation had so frightfully increased, that he seemed

but a skeleton in the clothes which hung upon him as if they had never

been made for one so thin as he. The skirts of his old grey coat were

wrapped around his wasted shanks--for, though it was now the month of

May, yet it was cold in that dungeon. His countenance was wan and

ghastly;--but its expression was little calculated to excite pity--for

any thing more diabolically ferocious than the old miscreant’s aspect,

cannot be well conceived. His face was the horrible reflex of a mind

filled with passions and longings of so savage and inhuman a nature,

that the mere thought makes one shudder.

“She will come presently,” he muttered to himself, with a kind of

subdued growling which indicated the fury of his pent-up rage: “she

will come presently,” he repeated, his eyes glaring like those of a

hyena beneath his shaggy, over-hanging brows; “and perhaps it will be

for to-day! Who knows? she may think me penitent enough to be no longer

dangerous: and then--then----”

He paused, and ground his jaws savagely together as if they were filled

with teeth; and his hands were clenched with such spasmodic violence

that the long nails ran into the palms.

“For two months and a half,” he continued at length, and still musing

to himself, “has the fiend--the infernal wretch--my mortal enemy, kept

me here! For two months and a half have I been his prisoner! Perdition

seize upon him! That man was sent into the world to be my ruin--to

thwart me--to persecute me! From the first moment I ever met him six or

seven months ago, all has gone wrong with me. But the day of vengeance

must and shall come,--yes--vengeance--vengeance--though it costs me

my life. Ah! he fancies that I am ignorant of his secret: and yet I

understand it all now--yes--all, all! Rapid as was the gleam of the

lamp which showed me his features the first time he ever visited me

here, so quick did a light flash to my mind--so quick did the truth

break upon me! Yes--yes--I understand it all _now_;”--and he chuckled

in a scarcely audible manner, yet the more horribly menacing because

it was so subdued and low. “But how can it be?--how could he have been

saved?” he asked himself, in his sombre musings: then, after a brief

pause, during which he rocked to and fro on the bed, he continued,

“Never mind the _how_! That such is the fact I am confident--and that

is enough for me! Yes--yes--that is enough for me! Fool that I was ever

for a moment to suspect him to be Lord Ellingham! And yet I should

have clung to this belief, had not the lamp glared upon his face as

he darted out of the cell! Ah! ah! he little thinks that I know him

now--that I have known him ever since the moment when the light showed

me his features, blackened as they were! Ah! ah!” again chuckled Old

Death: “I fancy that I have lulled them into an idea of my penitence!

They imagine that the work of reformation has begun with me! Ah! ha!

I played my cards well there! I did not whine and weep too soon--I

appeared to be precious tough, and precious obstinate; and my slow

conversion seemed all the more natural. They will fall all the easier

into the snare: they----”

At this moment a slight noise at the door of the cell made the ancient

miscreant start; and he instantaneously composed his features into as

mournful and sanctimonious an expression as such a horribly hang-dog

countenance could possibly assume.

The trap-door opened; and a sweet, musical voice said, “I am here

again, according to my promise: you see that I do not desert you.”

“Ah my dear young lady,” cried Old Death, affecting a tremulous tone,

“you are too good to such a dreadful sinner as I have been! My God!

when I think of all the atrocity that I once planned against you, I

feel inclined to implore you to depart from even the vicinity of such a

wretch as me!”

“Have you not been already assured that you are fully and completely

forgiven in reference to the wickedness to which you allude?” demanded

the young lady, whose beautiful countenance was now plainly visible to

Old Death through the grating over the aperture in the door.

“Yes, Miss de Medina,” returned the wretch, assuming a still more

penitent tone; “but I cannot forgive myself. You are an angel, dear

young lady--and I am a demon. I know I am! All last night I endeavoured

to read the Bible that you gave me yesterday: but I cannot settle my

mind to the task. I want some one to read it to me--if only for half

an hour every day. But this cannot be--I am aware it cannot! You--the

only person living that could have made such an impression upon me--are

afraid to enter my cell. You told me so yesterday. But am I not a human

being?--am I a wild beast? Ah! dear young lady--I could not injure

you!”--and the old miscreant appeared to weep.

“Do you think it would console you if I were to place confidence in

you--enter your cell--and read you a portion of the Word of God?”

“Why do you tantalize an old, old man who is miserable enough as it

is?” asked Old Death, in return to this question. “Do you suppose that

I am not weighed down to the very dust by an awful load of crime?

If you are afraid to come into the cell, send me a clergyman. But,

no--no,” he added, as if yielding to the sudden influence of a second

thought: “I will pray with no one but yourself! You have been my good

angel--you first touched my heart. I must wait till you have sufficient

confidence in me to follow up the blessed work you have already begun

so well. Yes--yes--even if I must remain here for a whole year, I will

not receive consolation from any one but you!”

“If I only thought that you were so far advanced in the path of

penitence----”

“Can you doubt it?” hastily demanded the prisoner. “Have you such

little confidence in your own powers of persuasion? Oh! my dear young

lady,” continued the wretch, falling upon his knees on the floor of

the cell, and joining his hands together, “have pity upon me--have

pity upon me! Your mistrust of me pierces like a dagger to my heart. I

crave--I long to be able to show you my gratitude;--and that can only

be by proving my contrition. Dear young lady, have mercy on an old, old

man, who would embrace the very ground on which you tread!”

“It would be wicked--it would be a crime to refuse your demand,” said

the sweet, musical voice, now tremulous with emotion, of her whom the

demon-hearted hypocrite called his good angel. “Stay--I will fetch the

key--and on my return I will read the Bible to you.”

And the Hebrew lady hurried away from the vicinity of the dungeon; and,

having ascended the spiral stone staircase with rapid steps, entered

the apartment usually inhabited by the Blackamoor. But he was not

there: and she paused--uncertain how to act; for she now remembered

that he had gone out for a short time immediately after giving her

certain instructions relative to the conduct she was to maintain

towards Old Death.

[Illustration]

“I should not like to do this without his consent,” she murmured to

herself: “and yet the prisoner is so penitent--so contrite, that it

would be a sin--nay, a crime, not to confirm the salutary impression

which is now so strong upon him. Yes--yes,” she continued: “I will take

this step upon my own responsibility! Surely _he_ will not blame me for

thus exceeding his instructions, when the cause is so good and the need

seems so urgent!”

Thus speaking, she took down a large key from a nail inside a cupboard,

and retraced her way to the subterranean.

In the meantime--during the ten minutes which her absence lasted--Old

Death was agitated by a thousand conflicting thoughts. At one moment

an infernal joy filled his heart, and he rubbed his hands together

in horrible and fiend-like glee: at the next instant his countenance

became convulsed with the hideous workings of his fears lest something

should occur to prevent the Jewess from entering his cell. He seemed

to live an age in that ten minutes; and he felt that if the terrific

excitement which he thus endured, were to last for an hour, it would

crush and overwhelm him. All the worst passions of his diabolical

nature were set in motion like the waves of the sea: and in that short

space of time were awakened feelings which, for intensity of awful

spite and inveterate malignity, were probably never before nor since

paralleled in the breast of man!

At length there was a slight rustling of a silk dress and the sound

of a gentle though hasty tread in the passage without; and in a few

moments the beautiful countenance of the Jewess appeared at the grated

aperture.

“Blessed young lady!” exclaimed Old Death, suddenly exercising an

immense mastery over his ferocious passions, and assuming a tone of

mingled gratitude and hope.

“Heaven grant that the step which I am now taking may have a

permanently beneficial effect!” said the Jewess, in a voice profoundly

sincere, as she placed the key in the lock.

Then, with her gentle hands, she drew back the massive bolts; and in

another moment she entered the dungeon in which the greatest miscreant

that ever disgraced human nature was crouched upon the bed, like a

tiger ready to spring from its lair.

For upwards of a minute this dreadful man could scarcely believe his

eyes--could scarcely credit his own senses. Was it possible that she

was there--there, in his presence--there, in his power? It appeared to

be a dream; and a momentary dizziness seized upon him.

“Give me the Bible,” said the Jewess, taking the chair; “and do you

draw near me.”

“Here is the book,” observed Old Death, in a deep tone which might

well be mistaken for the sign of solemn feelings, and was indeed so

interpreted.

The lady placed the sacred volume upon the table before her, and began

to turn over its leaves in order to find the passage which she deemed

most appropriate and suitable for the circumstances of the occasion.

Having discovered the chapter which she sought, she raised her eyes

towards Old Death’s countenance in order to assure herself that he was

in readiness for her to begin; but a sudden sensation of horror and

apprehension seized upon her, as she caught a glimpse of the diabolical

expression of those features on which the pale light of the flickering

lamp fell with sinister effect.

Then, with a howl of ferocious rage, that old man, whom the deep

craving after a bloody vengeance now rendered as strong as a

giant,--that old man precipitated himself upon the terrified Jewess

with all the fury of a ravenous monster, the chair broke down beneath

the shock; and with dreadful shrieks and appalling screams the Hebrew

lady fell upon the dungeon-floor, held tight in the grasp of the

miscreant, who was uppermost.

In another instant those shrieks and screams yielded to subdued moans;

for his fingers had fixed themselves round her throat like an iron

vice. Desperate--desperate were her struggles,--the struggles of

the agony of death: but Benjamin Bones seemed to gather energy and

force from the mere act of this strong resistance;--and as his grasp

tightened round his victim’s neck, low but savage growls escaped his

lips.

By degrees the struggling grew less violent--and a gurgling sound

succeeded the moans of the Jewish lady. Tighter--and more tightly still

were pressed the demon’s fingers, until his long nails entered her soft

and palpitating flesh. Oh! it was horrible--horrible,--this scene of

ruthless murder in that subterranean dungeon!

At length the movements of the victim became mere convulsive spasms:

but her large dark eyes, now unnaturally brilliant, glared up at Old

Death, fixedly and appallingly. Nevertheless, he was not terrified--he

was not stricken with remorse! No--still, still he clung to his victim,

his own eyes looking down ferociously into hers, and the workings of

his countenance displaying a fiend-like triumph--a savage glory in the

awful deed which he was perpetrating.

Nearly five minutes had elapsed from the instant when the murderer

first sprang upon the unfortunate Jewess: and now, suddenly starting to

his feet, he seized the lamp and dashed it upon her head. A low moan

escaped her--and all was silent.

Yes--all was silent, and all was darkness too; for the light had been

extinguished:--and Old Death precipitated himself from the dungeon.

He hurried along the subterranean, which he knew so well,--hurried

along towards the spiral stair-case, wondering whether he should

be enabled to effect his escape, yet almost reckless and desperate

as to what might become of him, now that his savage vengeance was

accomplished.

He ascended the stone steps--he entered the room which had for years

and years served him as a bed-chamber, before he had been compelled to

dispose of the house to Lord Ellingham. He passed into the laboratory:

and as yet he had proceeded without interruption. Joy! joy! he should

escape yet--the adjoining room, now fitted up as a handsome parlour,

was likewise untenanted at the moment:--joy! joy! he is descending the

stair-case leading to the hall!

Is it possible that he will escape? Fortune seems to favour the

diabolical murderer; and his hand is now upon the latch of the

front-door--he stands as it were once more upon the threshold of

that great world which is so wide and has so many channels for the

machinations of the wicked! The house seems deserted--not a questioning

voice falls upon his ear,--not the step of a human foot, save his own,

interrupts the silence of the place! Yes--it appears as if escape be

now a certainty,--escape for him who dared not hope for it, and did

not even think of it, when intent on the all-absorbing scheme of his

vengeance!

And now the front-door opens to his touch: but--ah! he has blood upon

his hands--the blood that had flowed from the neck of the murdered

Jewess. He starts back--he hesitates for a moment,--but only for a

moment: Old Death is not the man to remain long uncertain how to

proceed in such a strait!

Thrusting his hands--his gore-stained hands--into his pockets, the

demon-hearted monster issues as coolly and calmly from the house

as if it were his own and he had nothing to fear. The fresh air of

heaven--untasted by him for ten long weeks--comes gushing upon his

face: he is free--he is free!

“Ah!” is the hasty ejaculation which now falls on his ear: he looks

around--a man is bounding, flying towards him--and in another instant

he is in the grasp of the Blackamoor.

A short and desperate struggle takes place; and a crowd immediately

gathers near--for the Sessions are being held at Hicks’s Hall, on

Clerkenwell Green, so that the neighbourhood presents the bustling

appearance usual on such occasions.

“Seize him--hold him!” yells forth Old Death, as his powerful opponent

hurls him towards the house-door, which the miscreant had not closed

behind him.

“He is a mad-man--escaped from a lunatic asylum!” exclaimed the

Blackamoor, horrible apprehensions filling his soul relative to the

Jewess--for his eyes had caught sight of the blood upon Old Death’s

hands.

“No--no--I am not a mad-man!” shrieked out the latter. “Seize him--hold

him, I say:--_he has escaped the scaffold--he is_ TOM RAIN, _the

highwayman_!”

At that dreadful announcement the Blackamoor was struck speechless and

motionless, as if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet; and in the next

instant he was in the grasp of Dykes and Bingham, who, having business

at the Sessions House, happened to be amongst the crowd gathered at the

entrance of Red Lion Street.

“Yes--seize him--hold him tight!” yelled Benjamin Bones: “he is Tom

Rain, I tell you--his face is coloured purposely--but I knew that he is

Tom Rain!”

“And hold that miscreant also!” ejaculated Rainford--for he indeed the

Blackamoor was: “seize him--let him not escape!” he cried, recovering

the power of speech, as his eyes again caught a glimpse of the

blood-stained hands of Old Death. “There has been murder committed in

this house----My God! my God!”

The crowd had now not only increased to such an extent as to render

the way perfectly impassable; but a tremendous sensation suddenly

seized upon the assemblage,--the news that Tom Rain, the celebrated

highwayman, had escaped death by some miraculous means, and was once

more in custody, circulating like wild-fire. Dykes and Bingham, knowing

that in such a case the sympathies of the mob were most likely to turn

in favour of the prisoner, hurried him and Old Death into the house,

whither they were followed by three or four other constables; and the

door was immediately closed in the face of the crowd, and secured

within.

On reaching the sitting-room the first-floor, the party halted; and Old

Death, now completely overcome by the excitement of the incidents which

had so rapidly succeeded each other in a short half-hour, threw himself

exhausted into a chair.

“Well, Mr. Rainford,” said Dykes, with something like a malicious grin,

“I am sorry for this business--but how, in the name of all that’s

wonderful, did you escape after being so deuced well hung as I seed you

was with, my own eyes?”

“Silence!” ejaculated Rainford, in an imperious tone: “and come with me

at once down below. For, as sure as you are there, murder--a horrible

murder has been committed by that wretch,” pointing to Old Death, who

now quivered beneath his furious looks; “and, if you doubt it, behold

the blood upon his hands!” added Tom Rain, with a cold shudder.

“Bring him along with us, Bingham,” said Dykes, addressing his brother

officer.

“No--no--I won’t go down there again!” yelled forth the murderer, his

countenance becoming convulsed with horror; for he was now afraid of

his crime, in the revulsion of his feelings.

“Well--let him stay here in custody,” observed Dykes; “and me and a

couple of the runners will go with Mr. Rainford.”

The officer and the two myrmidons whom he had selected, accordingly

proceeded with Tom Rain into the room where the trap-door of the spiral

stair-case had been left open by Old Death; and the constables surveyed

each other with, mingled apprehension and astonishment.

“You are not afraid?” exclaimed Rainford, in a contemptuous tone, as

he lighted a lamp: then, with impatient excitement, he cried, “Do your

duty, and come with me. Life may still be left in her--come--come!”

“Yes--yes: we shall go along with you, sure enough,” growled Dykes, as

he led the way, followed by Rainford--the two runners closing the rear.

In three minutes more the little party entered the dungeon which had so

lately been the prison-house of Old Death: and there what a dreadful

spectacle met their eyes! The murdered lady was stretched upon the

floor--her countenance horribly discoloured and swollen--the forehead

completely smashed by the blow inflicted by the lamp which had been

dashed at her--and her eyes staring with a stony glare, as if about to

start out of their sockets.

“O Tamar! Tamar! my dearest--best beloved Tamar!” cried Tom Rain, in a

tone of bitter--bitter anguish, as he threw himself upon his knees by

the side of the corpse.

The officers, rude in heart, and rendered obdurate as they were by the

very nature of their profession, stood back in respectful silence at

this outburst of sorrow from the lips of the resuscitated highwayman.

“My God!” murmured the unhappy man, clasping his hands together; “who

shall break these fearful tidings to your father and your sister? And

will they not reproach me?--will they not attribute this frightful

calamity to that project of reformation which I had devised in behalf

of Benjamin Bones? O Tamar--my dearest Tamar--who could have foreseen

that such a terrible destiny was in store for thee!”

And, bowing down his head, he wept bitterly.

Suddenly loud voices were heard from the top of the spiral stair-case,

summoning Dykes thither.

“Come along, sir--it is useless to remain here!” cried the officer,

speaking hastily but respectfully to Tom Rain, who suffered himself to

be led away--or rather, he did not offer any resistance to those who

conducted him thence.

“Well--what now!” demanded Dykes, hurrying up the steps, at the head of

which his friend Bingham was continuing to shout after him.

“Why--don’t you know,” was the reply, “that Government has offered a

reward for the diskivery of the chap wot carried off Sir Christopher

Blunt and Dr. Lascelles--about that there Torrens’s affair----”

“Well--what then?” cried Dykes, impatiently.

“Blowed if it ain’t Tom Rain,” responded Bingham: “he did it--and we’ve

knabbed him. So that’s a cool two hundred and fifty a piece!”

“By goles!” ejaculated Dykes, his countenance expanding into the most

glorious humour possible, as if all remembrance of the horrible scene

he had just witnessed were banished from his mind: “this is good news,

though,” he added, as he emerged from the stair-case into the little

back room with which it communicated. “But how do you know that the

chap as kidnapped the knight and the doctor is Mr. Rainford?”

“Because I’ve been talking with old Ben Bones,” answered Bingham; “and

he told me as how he’d been kidnapped too, and kept a prisoner down

there for a matter of ten weeks;--and how there was a lot on ’em--and

Josh Pedler and Tim Splint among the rest. So, when he mentioned them

names, I pricks up my ears--and I asks him a question or two; and I

find that they was all kidnapped just at the time that the Torrens

affair was a-making sich a noise: so it’s a clear case.”

“Clear enough, to be sure!” exclaimed Dykes.

“Ben Bones doesn’t seem to know any thing about that affair,” continued

Dykes: “cos why, he was lugged off and took down in that there place

afore the business was made public by Sir Christopher and the doctor.

But, I say--what has happened below?”

“A young o’oman killed--that’s all,” answered Dykes. “So here’s a

pretty day’s business for us, Bingham: a man that had been hung, took

up fust--then a murder diskivered, and the murderer in our power--and

now this here affair about the Government reward. Well--we’ve been

rather slack lately--and a little okkipation’s quite a blessin’.”

Thus conversing together, Mr. Dykes and Mr. Bingham returned to the

apartment where Old Death was still sitting in a chair, watched by a

couple of constables: but the moment Rainford, who had only a confused

idea, of what was passing around him, was led into that room, he

started back in horror--exclaiming, “No--no: I cannot bear to be in the

company of this dreadful man!”

Old Death, to whom he pointed, grinned in savage triumph: but Rainford

had already rushed back into the laboratory, attended by Dykes and

two runners. Almost at the same instant, the lad Cæsar who had heard

from the crowd outside enough to convince him that Rainford had been

discovered, and also that a person answering the description of Old

Death had first denounced the resuscitated highwayman, and had then

himself been arrested on a charge of murder,--Cæsar, we say, now made

his appearance, and threw himself at his master’s feet, exclaiming

wildly, “Oh! no--my generous friend--my more than father--they shall

not take you from us!”

“Jacob,” said Tom Rain, raising the distracted youth, who was no other

than the reader’s former acquaintance, Jacob Smith,--“do not yield

to grief. We have need of all our courage on this occasion. I have

received a frightful blow--wounded I am in the tenderest point--oh!

I can scarcely restrain my anguish, while conjuring you to be calm!

And yet it is necessary to meet my afflictions face to face! Hasten,

then, to Finchley--and break the sad intelligence to Mr. de Medina and

Esther: tell them, Jacob--as gently as you can--tell them that Benjamin

Bones has crowned all his enormities by----”

“My God! it is then too true!” ejaculated the youth; covering his face

with his hands.

“Yes--Tamar is no more!” added Rainford, tears gushing from his eyes.

“My poor wife has been brutally--foully murdered by that miscreant!”

Jacob Smith hurried away, his own heart feeling as if it were about to

break.

“And now,” said Tom Rain, suddenly turning towards Dykes, “I appeal to

you as men to allow me to superintend the removal of the remains of

that lady, who was my wife, to a chamber in this house; and then, that

duty being performed, I shall be ready to accompany you whithersoever

you may choose to conduct me.”

“We are not particular for an hour or so, Mr. Rainford,” returned

Dykes. “Indeed, it would be better to let the crowd disperse a little;

and if so be you don’t mind staying here a bit, we’ll wait till dark.

The evenings is long now, you see----”

“I should have wished to remain here until the relatives of the

deceased lady had time to arrive and take charge of the body,”

interrupted Tom Rain: “but I dared not ask such a favour at your hands.

As it is, however, I thank you.”

“But you must likewise let old Ben Bones stay here, until after dusk

at least,” urged Dykes: “for if it was knowed to the people outside

that it was the ancient fence who had killed a woman, they’d be after

tearing him to pieces. So we must smuggle him out presently.”

Rainford gave his consent to the proposition: he was too sick at

heart--too profoundly overwhelmed by misfortune, to attempt to argue

any question that might arise from the lamentable incidents of that

evening.