CHAPTER CCII.

JACK RILY AND VITRIOL BOB.

Mr. Green had so well managed matters in respect to the Bank-notes,

that in the course of a few hours he had contrived to obtain cash for

about twelve thousand pounds’ worth; and the Doctor was so delighted

at his success, that he had testified his satisfaction by making him a

present of a couple of thousand for himself.

Being now a rich man, Mr. Rily resolved to quit his lodgings in

Roupel-street and take superior apartments in a better neighbourhood.

Then it struck him, as he was walking leisurely along in the City,

after having parted from Green, that it would be far more agreeable to

become the possessor of a nice little cottage in a pleasant suburb;

and, while this idea was uppermost in his mind, he happened to observe

in the window of a house-agent an announcement to the effect that

“several elegant and desirable villas were to be let on lease or sold,

in the most delightful part of Pentonville.” The Doctor entered the

office, obtained a card to view the premises thus advertised, and,

taking a cab, proceeded straight to the suburb indicated.

Having nothing particular to do, Jack Rily spent several hours in

inspecting the villas, and at length fixed upon one which he resolved

to purchase. The individual who had built the houses on speculation,

and who was compelled to dispose of one on any terms before he could

possibly finish another, resided close at hand; and a bargain being

speedily concluded, a particular hour on the following day was agreed

upon as the time for a final settlement.

Jack Rily, having proceeded thus far in his arrangements, entered

a public-house which had lately been built on an eminence within a

quarter of a mile of the New Model Prison; and there he ordered some

dinner--for it was now four o’clock in the afternoon. The repast over,

he took a seat at an open window which commanded a view of Copenhagen

Fields and all the neighbouring district; and with his pipe and some

hot brandy-and-water he was enjoying himself to his heart’s content,

when he was suddenly startled by the appearance of Vitriol Bob, who

happened to pass that way.

Though a brave, fearless, and desperate man, the Doctor nevertheless

uttered an ejaculation of mingled surprise and annoyance; and his

enemy, who would not have otherwise perceived him, instantly glanced

towards the window. Their looks met--and a diabolical scowl distorted

the countenance of Vitriol Bob,--while Jack Rily, immediately

recovering his presence of mind, surveyed the miscreant with cool

defiance.

Vitriol Bob appeared to hesitate for a moment what course to pursue:

then, suddenly making up his mind, he entered the public-room where the

Doctor was seated.

Taking a chair at another table, he rang the bell and ordered some

spirits-and-water, in payment for which he threw down a sovereign,

receiving the change.

When the waiter had disappeared, and the two villains were alone

together, Vitriol Bob looked maliciously at Jack Rily, as much as to

say, “You see I am not without money;” and then he glanced complacently

at the new suit of black which he had on.

For a change had taken place in Vitriol Bob’s appearance; and he

seemed to be “in high feather,” as well as his enemy the Doctor. His

huge black whiskers had been trimmed, oiled, and curled--a process

that did not however materially mitigate the hang-dog expression of

his countenance: for his small, reptile eyes still glared ferociously

from beneath his thick, overhanging brows,--his lips were as usual of

a livid hue,--and his broken nose positively appeared more flat on his

face than ever.

“Your health, Jack,” said the miscreant, nodding with a kind of

malignant familiarity, as he raised the steaming glass to his lips.

“Thank’ee kindly, Bob,” returned the Doctor, in a tone of mock civility.

“Now that we have met at last, old feller, we won’t part again in a

hurry,” observed Vitriol Bob after a pause, during which he lighted a

cigar.

“Just as you choose, my tulip,” said Rily, calmly puffing away and

contemplating the thin blueish vapour which curled lazily from the bowl

of his pipe out of the window.

“You and I have a score to settle, you know, Jack,” continued Vitriol

Bob; “and it seems as if the Devil had thrown us in each other’s way

this evenin’ on purpose to reggilate our accounts.”

“Oh! that’s the construction you put upon it, eh?” said the Doctor.

“Well--just as you like.”

“You know that you used me shameful in that Stamford-street business

t’other day,” proceeded Vitriol Bob.

“It was only what you deserved for the trick you played me, old

fellow,” retorted the Doctor, but with amazing coolness alike of tone

and manner.

“I don’t deny that I bilked you out of a part of your reglars in the

matter alluded to,” said Bob: “but it didn’t deserve such a return as

you gived me in the Haunted House. Thank God, I had my revenge on the

old o’oman t’other night.”

“Yes--she’s disposed of,” observed Jack; “and I can’t forgive you

for it, Bob--even if you wished us to be friends. She was a fine

old creature,--and I had an affection for her, because she was the

ugliest wretch I ever saw in the shape of a woman--and her spirit was

admirable.”

“I meant the blow for _you_, Jack,” said Vitriol Bob: “but it’s just

as well now that the bottle broke over her, since you and me have met

again.”

“Have you got another bottle in your pocket, Bob?” demanded the Doctor:

“because if we are to have a tuzzle for it before we part, I may as

well put myself on as equal terms with you as possible.”

“I shan’t take no unfair advantage, Jack,” was the reply: and, as the

villain thus spoke, he slapped his hands against the skirts of his coat

his breeches’ pockets, and his breast, to convince his antagonist that

he had no bottle about his person.

“There’s nothing like fair play, Bob,” returned the Doctor; “and

therefore if you like to feel about me to convince yourself that I have

no fire-arms, you’re welcome.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Jack,” responded Vitriol Bob. “But I

suppose you have got a clasp-knife.”

“I never go without one,” was the answer: “and it’s as sharp as a

razor.”

“So is mine,” observed the other miscreant; and then there was a long

pause, during which the two men contemplated each other with a calmness

and serenity that would have prevented even the most acute observer

from noticing the malignant light that gleamed in the depths of their

eyes.

And while the one continued to puff his pipe in a leisurely manner, the

other smoked his cigar with equal ease; so that they appeared to be

two friends enjoying themselves in a pleasant way in the cool of the

evening.

“I suppose I interrupted some sport t’other night, Jack,” said

Vitriol Bob, at length breaking the silence. “You and the old o’oman

wasn’t out together at that hour for nothink--particklerly in such a

neighbourhood.”

“Yes--we were going to do a little business together,” observed the

Doctor. “You first twigged me in Sloane Street. I saw you!”

“I knowed you did: but you didn’t suspect that I follered you.”

“Rather,” said Jack Rily. “At least, I thought it very probable.”

“You’re aweer that the old o’oman’s dead, I suppose?”

“I said as much just now. ’Twas in the papers,” remarked Jack Rily.

“Yes--I read it in the _Adwertiser_,” responded Vitriol Bob.

There was another pause, during which the two miscreants had their

glasses replenished. The Doctor also refilled his pipe, and the other

lighted a second cigar.

“We’ll make ourselves comfortable, Jack,” said Vitriol Bob, “as long as

you like: and whenever you feel disposed to go, mind that I shall be

arter you.”

“Well--I can’t prevent _that_,” observed the Doctor, coolly. “You’ve a

right to walk which way you choose in this free country.”

“Thank’ee for giving me the information,” said Bob, in a satirical

tone. “But of course I mean to stick to you till you’re so wearied of

my company that you _must_ come to a last struggle either to shake me

off altogether, or perish yourself. For, mind, if I catch you asleep,

Jack, I shall stick my clasp-knife into you up to the haft.”

“I’m obliged to you for letting me know your kind intentions

beforehand,” observed the Doctor: “because I shall adopt precisely the

same mode of warfare.”

“Now, then, we understand each other,” said Vitriol Bob; “and that’s a

comfort. But it’s a great pity that two such fine fellers as you and

me should be at loggerheads. Howsomever, it can’t be helped--and a

reconcilement, or whatever they call it, is impossible. Your life or

mine, Jack--that’s the question to be decided now.”

“Depend upon it, old fellow, that you’ll be a croaker before morning,”

returned the Doctor, as he raised his glass to his lips.

“No--it’s you that’ll be a stiff’un, my boy,” was the pleasant retort.

“Time must show. Remember that it’s no infant you’ll have to deal with.”

“I should have beat you that night in the Haunted House, Jack, if the

old o’oman hadn’t come to your assistance,” observed Vitriol Bob, with

a low but diabolical chuckle.

“Yes--but it was because I slipped over something, old fellow,” was

the answer; “and I shall take care to keep more steady on my pins next

time.”

“Depend upon it that when the death-struggle _does_ come, Jack,

the fust that slips will be the dead ’un. Did you ever hear of the

Kentuckian fashion of dealing with an enemy?” demanded Vitriol Bob.

“Never,” was the reply. “But I dare say it’s something damnable--as

bad, perhaps, as breaking a vitriol-bottle over a person’s face--or

else you wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“You’re right there, Jack: it’s _gouging_ that I mean.”

“And what’s gouging, pray?”

“Tearing a fellow’s eye out of its socket,” answered Vitriol Bob.

“One can play at that game as well as another,” observed the Doctor,

totally unmoved by the horrid nature of the conversation.

“To be sure: and we shall sooner or later see who beats at it.”

Another pause succeeded this last remark of Vitriol Bob; and again did

the two men sit contemplating each his enemy with a composure that was

unnatural and dreadful to a degree under the circumstances.

Time wore on in this manner: their glasses were frequently

replenished--and yet the liquor appeared not to produce the least

effect upon them; but, cool, collected, and self-possessed, they

sate measuring each other’s form and calculating its strength, until

darkness insensibly stole upon them. The waiter then entered to light

the gas; and several frequenters of the house began to drop in to take

their evening’s allowance of alcoholic drink and stupifying tobacco.

At length Jack Rily rose, and, looking hard at his enemy, said, “I am

going _now_.”

“Wery well,” returned Vitriol Bob: “I’ll keep you company.”

There was nothing in these observations to excite either the curiosity

or the suspicions of the other persons in the public-house-parlour:

nevertheless, those words had a terrible significancy for the two men

who had exchanged them.

The Doctor walked leisurely out of the room first; and Vitriol Bob

followed him. But the instant they were outside the premises, the

former turned abruptly round upon his enemy, saying, “Come, let us

proceed abreast: I don’t mean to give you a chance of stabbing me from

behind.”

“Just as you like,” observed Vitriol Bob; and he placed himself at the

Doctor’s right hand, leaving an interval of about a couple of feet

between them.

In this manner they walked on in silence,--each occupied with his own

peculiar reflections.

Vitriol Bob was intent only on vengeance,--dread, full, complete, and

diabolical vengeance; and, though he seemed to be looking straight

forward, he was nevertheless watching his companion with the sidelong

glances of his reptile-like eyes.

Jack Rily was calculating in his mind what course he should adopt.

He was naturally as brave as a lion: but he did not perceive any

advantage in risking his life in a struggle that, even were he

victorious, would produce neither profit nor glory. The only possible

good that could result to him from a triumphant issue of the quarrel,

would be the removal of a bitter, inveterate, and determined enemy.

Nevertheless, the Doctor had most potent reasons to induce him to avoid

this deadly encounter. He had just obtained a vast sum of money, and

had the means of realising five times as much: the world, therefore,

had suddenly assumed a smiling aspect in his eyes. He had already

resolved to abandon his nefarious pursuits, which indeed were no longer

necessary--and settle down quietly in the cottage for the purchase of

which he had that day concluded a bargain;--and all these prospects

were to be staked on the hazard of a die--risked fearfully at the

bidding of the miscreant who was walking by his side!

At one moment the Doctor seriously thought of giving his companion

into charge to the first corps of policemen whom they might encounter;

for this was the hour when the little detachments of constables went

about relieving their comrades on duty. But that idea was abandoned

almost as soon as formed: inasmuch as Jack Rily had all his money about

him, and he knew that if he handed Vitriol Bob over to the police

as the murderer of Torrens or of Mrs. Mortimer, the miscreant would

unhesitatingly turn round with some charge that would at least place

him (the Doctor) in temporary restraint, and lead to an examination of

his person.

Jack Rily therefore came to the determination of pushing on into

the heart of London, well knowing that Vitriol Bob’s object was not

to assail him in any neighbourhood where the contest was likely to

be observed and prevented, but to drive him by dint of persecution,

dogging, and a hateful companionship, into the open country, where

through very desperation the Doctor should make up his mind to settle

the matter decisively by a struggle on equal terms. Feeling convinced

that this was his enemy’s purpose, Jack Rily resolved either to

weary him out or give him the slip if possible--or else to seize an

opportunity of stabbing him suddenly in some place where an immediate

escape was practicable.

We must again observe it was through no cowardice that the Doctor was

desirous of avoiding a conflict from which only one could possibly

depart alive: but he had so many inducements to cling to existence,

that he saw no advantage in risking them all in a quarrel where the

personal animosity was entirely on the other side.

In the course of half an hour they arrived in the vicinity of the Angel

at Islington; and Jack Rily, now breaking the silence which had lasted

since they quitted the public-house at Pentonville, said, “This walking

makes one thirsty: let’s have some beer.”

“Willingly,” answered Vitriol Bob: “and we’ll drink out of the same pot

to make people believe we’re friends.”

They accordingly entered a gin-shop and shared a pot of porter at the

bar; after which they resumed their walk, passing down the City Road.

They kept abreast, and preserved a deep silence,--each watching the

movements of the other--the Doctor in the hope of being able to give

his companion a sudden thrust with his knife--and Vitriol Bob for the

purpose of preventing the escape of his enemy.

It was ten o’clock when they came within sight of the Bank of England;

and as they passed under its solid wall, Jack Rily wondered whether

he should be alive to keep an appointment which he had with Green for

eleven next morning in order to have some more of his notes changed by

that individual.

“All the money in that there place, old feller, won’t save one or

t’other of us from death before many hours is gone by,” observed

Vitriol Bob, in a low and ferocious tone.

“You must make the best use of your time, then,” returned Jack; “since

you’ve got a presentiment that it’s so near.”

“No--it’s you that had better say your prayers,” retorted the

miscreant. “But what’s the use of keeping both your hands in your

pockets? If you think you’ll be able to draw out your knife suddenly

and give me a poke under the ribs, you’re uncommonly mistaken.”

“I wasn’t dreaming of such a thing,” answered Jack Rily, for the first

time showing a slight degree of confusion in his manner.

“It’s false, old feller,” said Vitriol Bob: “you’ve got the

clasp-knife open in your pocket--I know you have. The gas-lights is

strong enough about there to enable a sharp-sighted chap, like me, to

twig all that goes on.”

“It’s you that speaks false,” returned Jack Rily, still keeping his

hands in his pockets.

And, again relapsing into silence, they pursued their way.

Passing in front of the Exchange, and up Cornhill, they turned into

Birchin Lane. There Jack Rily hesitated for an instant which way to

proceed: but suddenly recollecting that in a little passage to the left

there was a public-house called the Bengal Arms, he said, “There’s a

crib here where they sell capital ale.”

“Let’s have some,” cried Vitriol Bob. “You go on fust--the place is too

narrer for us both.”

“No--you go first,” said the Doctor.

“In this way then,” responded Vitriol Bob: and stepping nimbly in

front of his companion, he turned round and walked backwards along the

passage until it suddenly grew wider opposite the door of the Bengal

Arms.

Jack Rily laughed at this manœuvre: but he was in reality

disappointed--for had Vitriol Bob acted with less precaution, he would

have assuredly received the whole length of the Doctor’s formidable

knife in his back, ere he had proceeded half way up the passage.

“We’ll go into the parlour here,” said Jack, “and have some bread and

cheese. I’m hungry.”

“So am I,” observed Vitriol Bob, in a dry, laconic tone which

denoted the terrible determination that inspired the man’s mind,--a

determination never to part from his companion until one of them should

be no more!

There was something awful--something frightfully revolting and

hideously appalling in the circumstance of those two miscreants thus

wandering about together in a manner that appeared amicable enough to

all who beheld them,--two wretches possessing the hearts of fiends and

the external ugliness of monsters,--two incarnate demons capable of any

turpitude, however black the dye!