CHAPTER X
THE STATUE AT CHARING CROSS
One morning, two persons took their way along Parliament Street andWhitehall, and, chatting as they walked, turned into the entrance ofSpring Gardens, for the purpose of looking at the statue at CharingCross. One of them was remarkable for his dwarfish stature and strangewithered features. The other was a man of middle size, thin, ratherelderly, and with a sharp countenance, the sourness of which wasredeemed by a strong expression of benevolence. He was clad in a blackcoat, rather rusty, but well brushed, buttoned up to the chin, blacktights, short drab gaiters, and wore a white neckcloth and spectacles.
Mr. Loftus (for so he was called) was a retired merchant, of moderatefortune, and lived in Abingdon Street. He was a bachelor, and thereforepleased himself; and being a bit of an antiquary, rambled about all daylong in search of some object of interest. His walk, on the presentoccasion, was taken with that view.
"By Jove! what a noble statue that is, Morse!" cried Loftus, gazing atit. "The horse is magnificent--positively magnificent."
"I recollect when the spot was occupied by a gibbet, and when, in lieuof a statue, an effigy of the martyred monarch was placed there,"replied Morse. "That was in the time of the Protectorate."
"You cannot get those dreams out of your head, Morse," said Loftus,smiling. "I wish I could persuade myself I had lived for two centuriesand a half."
"Would you could have seen the ancient cross, which once stood there,erected by Edward the First to his beloved wife, 'Eleanor of Castile'!"said Morse, heedless of the other's remark. "It was much mutilated whenI remember it; some of the pinnacles were broken, and the foliagedefaced, but the statues of the queen were still standing in therecesses; and altogether the effect was beautiful."
"It must have been charming," observed Loftus, rubbing his hands; "and,though I like the statue, I would much rather have had the old Gothiccross. But how fortunate the former escaped destruction in OliverCromwell's time!"
"I can tell you how that came to pass, sir," replied Morse, "for I wasassistant to John Rivers, the brazier, to whom the statue was sold."
"Ah! indeed!" exclaimed Loftus. "I have heard something of the story,but should like to have full particulars."
"You shall hear them, then," replied Morse. "Yon statue, which, as youknow, was cast by Hubert le Sueur, in 1633, was ordered by Parliament tobe sold and broken to pieces. Well, my master, John Rivers, being astanch Royalist, though he did not dare to avow his principles,determined to preserve it from destruction. Accordingly, he offered agood round sum for it, and was declared the purchaser. But how todispose of it was the difficulty? He could trust none of his men but me,whom he knew to be as hearty a hater of the Roundheads, and as loyal tothe memory of our slaughtered sovereign, as himself. Well, we digged agreat pit, secretly, in the cellar, whither the statue had beenconveyed, and buried it. The job occupied us nearly a month; and duringthat time, my master collected together all the pieces of old brass hecould procure. These he afterwards produced, and declared they were thefragments of the statue. But the cream of the jest was to come. He beganto cast handles of knives and forks in brass, giving it out that theywere made from the metal of the statue. And plenty of 'em he sold too,for the Cavaliers bought 'em as memorials of their martyred monarch, andthe Roundheads as evidences of his fall. In this way he soon got backhis outlay."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Loftus.
"Well, in due season came the Restoration," pursued Morse; "and mymaster made known to King Charles the Second the treasure he had keptconcealed for him. It was digged forth, placed in its old position--butI forget whether the brazier was rewarded. I rather think not."
"No matter," cried Loftus; "he was sufficiently rewarded by theconsciousness of having done a noble action. But let us go and examinethe sculpture on the pedestal more closely."
With this he crossed over the road; and, taking off his hat, thrust hishead through the iron railing surrounding the pedestal, while Morse, inorder to point out the beauties of the sculpture with greaterconvenience, mounted upon a stump beside him.
"You are aware that this is the work of Grinling Gibbons, sir?" criedthe dwarf.
"To be sure I am," replied Loftus--"to be sure. What fancy and gusto isdisplayed in the treatment of these trophies!"
"The execution of the royal arms is equally admirable," cried Morse.
"Never saw anything finer," rejoined Loftus--"never, upon my life."
Every one knows how easily a crowd is collected in London, and it cannotbe supposed that our two antiquaries would be allowed to pursue theirinvestigations unmolested. Several ragged urchins got round them, andtried to discover what they were looking at, at the same time cuttingtheir jokes upon them. These were speedily joined by a street-sweeper,rather young in the profession, a ticket-porter, a butcher's apprentice,an old Israelitish clothes-man, a coalheaver, and a couple ofcharity-boys.
"My eyes!" cried the street-sweeper, "only twig these coves. If theyain't green 'uns, I'm done."
"Old Spectacles thinks he has found it all out," remarked the porter;"ve shall hear wot it all means by-and-by."
"Plesh ma 'art," cried the Jew, "vat two funny old genelmen. I vondervat they thinks they sees?"
"I'll tell 'ee, master," rejoined the butcher's apprentice; "they're atryin' vich on 'em can see farthest into a millstone."
Antiquaries.]
"Only think of living all my life in London, and never examining thisadmirable work of art before!" cried Loftus, quite unconscious that hehad become the object of general curiosity.
"Look closer at it, old gem'man," cried the porter. "The nearer you get,the more you'll admire it."
"Quite true," replied Loftus, fancying Morse had spoken; "it'll bear theclosest inspection."
"I say, Ned," observed one of the charity-boys to the other, "do you getover the railin'; they must ha' dropped summat inside. See what it is."
"I'm afraid o' spikin' myself, Joe," replied the other; "but just giveus a lift, and I'll try."
"Wot are you arter there, you young rascals?" cried the coalheaver;"come down, or I'll send the perlice to you."
"Wot two precious guys these is!" cried a ragamuffin lad, accompanied bya bulldog. "I've a good mind to chuck the little 'un off the post, andset Tartar at him. Here, boy, here!"
"That 'ud be famous fun, indeed, Spicer!" cried another rapscallionbehind him.
"Arrah! let 'em alone, will you there, you young divils!" cried an Irishbricklayer; "don't you see they're only two paiceable antiquaries."
"Oh, they're antiquaries, are they?" screamed the little street-sweeper."Vell, I never see the likes on 'em afore; did you, Sam?"
"Never," replied the porter.
"Och, murther in Irish! ye're upsettin' me, an' all the fruits of myindustry," cried an applewoman, against whom the bricklayer had run hisbarrow. "Divil seize you for a careless wagabone! Why don't you lookwhere ye're goin', and not dhrive into people in that way?"
"Axes pardon, Molly," said the bricklayer; "but I was so inter_est_ed inthem antiquaries, that I didn't obsarve ye."
"Antiquaries be hanged! what's such warmint to me?" cried the applewomanfuriously. "You've destroyed my day's market, and bad luck to ye!"
"Well, never heed, Molly," cried the good-natured bricklayer; "I'll makeit up t'ye. Pick up your apples, and you shall have a dhrop of thecraiter if you'll come along wid me."
While this was passing, a stout gentleman came from the farther side ofthe statue, and perceiving Loftus, cried--"Why, brother-in-law, is thatyou?"
But Loftus was too much engrossed to notice him, and continued toexpiate upon the beauty of the trophies.
"What are you talking about, brother?" cried the stout gentleman.
"Grinling Gibbons," replied Loftus, without turning round. "HoraceWalpole said that no one before him could give to wood the airylightness of a flower, and here he has given it to a stone."
"This may be all very fine, my good fellow," said the stout gentle
man,seizing him by the shoulder; "but don't you see the crowd you'recollecting round you? You'll be mobbed presently."
"Why, how the devil did you come here, brother Thorneycroft?" criedLoftus, at last recognising him.
"Come along, and I'll tell you," replied the iron-merchant, dragging himaway, while Morse followed closely behind them. "I'm so glad to have metyou," pursued Thorneycroft, as soon as they were clear of the mob;"you'll be shocked to hear what has happened to your niece, Ebba."
"Why, what _has_ happened to her?" demanded Loftus. "You alarm me. Outwith it at once. I hate to be kept in suspense."
"She has left me," replied Thorneycroft--"left her old indulgentfather--run away."
"Run away!" exclaimed Loftus. "Impossible! I'll not believe it--evenfrom your lips."
"Would it were not so!--but it is, alas! too true," replied Thorneycroftmournfully. "And the thing was so unnecessary, for I would gladly havegiven her to the young man. My sole hope is that she has not utterlydisgraced herself."
"No, she is too high principled for that," cried Loftus. "Rest easy onthat score. But with whom has she run away?"
"With a young man named Auriol Darcy," replied Thorneycroft. "He wasbrought to my house under peculiar circumstances."
"I never heard of him," said Loftus.
"But I have," interposed Morse. "I've known him these two hundredyears."
"Eh day! who's this?" cried Thorneycroft.
"A crack-brained little fellow, whom I've engaged as valet," repliedLoftus. "He fancies he was born in Queen Elizabeth's time."
"It's no fancy," cried Morse. "I am perfectly acquainted with AuriolDarcy's history. He drank of the same elixir as myself."
"If you know him, can you give us a clue to find him?" askedThorneycroft.
"I am sorry I cannot," replied Morse. "I only saw him for a few minutesthe other night, after I had been thrown into the Serpentine by the tallman in the black cloak."
"What's that you say?" cried Thorneycroft quickly. "I have heard Ebbaspeak of a tall man in a black cloak having some mysterious connectionwith Auriol. I hope that person has nothing to do with herdisappearance."
"I shouldn't wonder if he had," replied Morse. "I believe that blackgentleman to be----"
"What!--who?" demanded Thorneycroft.
"Neither more nor less than the devil," replied Morse mysteriously.
"Pshaw! poh!" cried Loftus. "I told you the poor fellow was halfcracked."
At this moment, a roguish-looking fellow, with red whiskers and hair,and clad in a velveteen jacket with ivory buttons, who had been watchingthe iron-merchant at some distance, came up, and touching his hat, said,"Mr. Thorneycroft, I believe?"
"My name is Thorneycroft, fellow!" cried the iron-merchant, eyeing himaskance. "And your name, I fancy, is Ginger?"
"Exactly, sir," replied the dog-fancier, again touching his hat,"ex-actly. I didn't think you would rekilect me, sir. I bring you somenews of your darter."
"Of Ebba!" exclaimed Thorneycroft, in a tone of deep emotion. "I hopeyour news is good."
"I wish it wos better, for her sake as well as yours, sir," replied thedog-fancier gravely; "but I'm afeerd she's in werry bad hands."
"That she is, if she's in the hands o' the black gentleman," observedMorse.
"Vy, Old Parr, that ain't you?" cried Ginger, gazing at him inastonishment. "Vy, 'ow you are transmogrified, to be sure!"
"But what of my daughter?" cried Thorneycroft; "where is she? Take me toher, and you shall be well rewarded."
"I'll do my best to take you to her, and without any reward, sir,"replied Ginger, "for my heart bleeds for the poor young creater. As Isaid afore, she's in dreadful bad hands."
"Do you allude to Mr. Auriol Darcy?" cried Thorneycroft.
"No, he's as much a wictim of this infernal plot as your darter,"replied Ginger; "I thought him quite different at first--but I'vealtered my mind entirely since some matters has come to my knowledge."
"You alarm me greatly by these dark hints," cried Thorneycroft. "What isto be done?"
"I shall know in a few hours," replied Ginger. "I ain't got the exactclue yet. But come to me at eleven o'clock to-night, at the Turk's Head,at the back o' Shoreditch Church, and I'll put you on the right scent.You must come alone."
"I should wish this gentleman, my brother-in-law, to accompany me," saidThorneycroft.
"He couldn't help you," replied Ginger. "I'll take care to have plentyof assistance. It's a dangerous bus'ness, and can only be managed in asartin way, and by a sartin person, and he'd object to any von but you.To-night, at eleven! Good-bye, Old Parr. Ve shall meet again ere long."
And without a word more, he hurried away.