CHAPTER I
THE RUINED HOUSE IN THE VAUXHALL ROAD
Late one night, in the spring of 1830, two men issued from a low,obscurely situated public-house, near Millbank, and shaped their courseapparently in the direction of Vauxhall Bridge. Avoiding the footpathnear the river, they moved stealthily along the farther side of theroad, where the open ground offered them an easy means of flight, incase such a course should be found expedient. So far as it could bediscerned by the glimpses of the moon, which occasionally shone forthfrom a rack of heavy clouds, the appearance of these personages was notmuch in their favour. Haggard features, stamped deeply with thecharacters of crime and debauchery; fierce, restless eyes; beards ofseveral days' growth; wild, unkempt heads of hair, formed their chiefpersonal characteristics; while sordid and ragged clothes, shoes withoutsoles, and old hats without crowns, constituted the sum of theirapparel.
One of them was tall and gaunt, with large hands and feet; but despitehis meagreness, he evidently possessed great strength: the other wasconsiderably shorter, but broad-shouldered, bow-legged, long-armed, andaltogether a most formidable ruffian. This fellow had high cheek-bones,a long aquiline nose, and a coarse mouth and chin, in which the animalgreatly predominated. He had a stubby red beard, with sandy hair, whitebrows and eyelashes. The countenance of the other was dark andrepulsive, and covered with blotches, the result of habitualintemperance. His eyes had a leering and malignant look. A handkerchiefspotted with blood, and tied across his brow, contrasted strongly withhis matted black hair, and increased his natural appearance of ferocity.The shorter ruffian carried a mallet upon his shoulder, and hiscompanion concealed something beneath the breast of his coat, whichafterwards proved to be a dark lantern.
Not a word passed between them; but keeping a vigilant look-out, theytrudged on with quick, shambling steps. A few sounds arose from thebanks of the river, and there was now and then a plash in the water, ora distant cry, betokening some passing craft; but generally all wasprofoundly still. The quaint, Dutch-looking structures on the oppositebank, the line of coal-barges and lighters moored to the strand, thegreat timber-yards and coal-yards, the brewhouses, gasworks, andwaterworks, could only be imperfectly discerned; but the moonlight fellclear upon the ancient towers of Lambeth Palace, and on the neighbouringchurch. The same glimmer also ran like a silver belt across the stream,and revealed the great, stern, fortress-like pile of thePenitentiary--perhaps the most dismal-looking structure in the wholemetropolis. The world of habitations beyond this melancholy prison wasburied in darkness. The two men, however, thought nothing of thesethings, and saw nothing of them; but, on arriving within a couple ofhundred yards of the bridge, suddenly, as if by previous concert,quitted the road, and, leaping a rail, ran across a field, and plungedinto a hollow formed by a dried pit, where they came to a momentaryhalt.
"You ain't a-been a-gammonin' me in this matter, Tinker?" observed theshorter individual. "The cove's sure to come?"
"Why, you can't expect me to answer for another as I can for myself,Sandman," replied the other; "but if his own word's to be taken for it,he's sartin to be there. I heerd him say, as plainly as I'm a speakin'to you--'I'll be here to-morrow night--at the same hour----'"
"And that wos one o'clock?" said the Sandman.
"Thereabouts," replied the other.
"And who did he say that to?" demanded the Sandman.
"To hisself, I s'pose," answered the Tinker; "for, as I told you afore,I could see no one vith him."
"Do you think he's one of our perfession?" inquired the Sandman.
"Bless you! no--that he ain't," returned the Tinker. "He's a reg'larslap-up svell."
"That's no reason at all," said the Sandman. "Many a first-rate svellpractises in our line. But he can't be in his right mind to come to sucha ken as that, and go on as you mentions."
"As to that I can't say," replied the Tinker; "and it don't much matter,as far as ve're consarned."
"Devil a bit," rejoined the Sandman, "except--you're sure it worn't asperrit, Tinker. I've heerd say that this crib is haanted, and though Idon't fear no livin' man, a ghost's a different sort of customer."
"Vell, you'll find our svell raal flesh and blood, you may depend uponit," replied the Tinker. "So come along, and don't let's be frightenin'ourselves vith ould vimen's tales."
With this they emerged from the pit, crossed the lower part of thefield, and entered a narrow thoroughfare, skirted by a few detachedhouses, which brought them into the Vauxhall Bridge Road.
Here they kept on the side of the street most in shadow, and crossedover whenever they came to a lamp. By-and-by, two watchmen were seenadvancing from Belvoir Terrace, and, as the guardians of the night drewnear, the ruffians crept into an alley to let them pass. As soon as thecoast was clear, they ventured forth, and quickening their pace, came toa row of deserted and dilapidated houses. This was their destination.
The range of habitations in question, more than a dozen in number, were,in all probability, what is vulgarly called "in Chancery," and sharedthe fate of most property similarly circumstanced. They were in a sadruinous state--unroofed, without windows and floors. The bare walls werealone left standing, and these were in a very tumble-down condition.These neglected dwellings served as receptacles for old iron, blocks ofstone and wood, and other ponderous matters. The aspect of the wholeplace was so dismal and suspicious, that it was generally avoided bypassengers after nightfall.
Skulking along the blank and dreary walls, the Tinker, who was now alittle in advance, stopped before a door, and pushing it open, enteredthe dwelling. His companion followed him.
The extraordinary and incongruous assemblage of objects which met thegaze of the Sandman, coupled with the deserted appearance of the place,produced an effect upon his hardy but superstitious nature.
Looking round, he beheld huge mill-stones, enormous water-wheels,boilers of steam-engines, iron vats, cylinders, cranes, iron pumps ofthe strangest fashion, a gigantic pair of wooden scales, old iron safes,old boilers, old gas-pipes, old water-pipes, cracked old bells, oldbird-cages, old plates of iron, old pulleys, ropes, and rusty chains,huddled and heaped together in the most fantastic disorder. In the midstof the chaotic mass frowned the bearded and colossal head of Neptune,which had once decorated the forepart of a man-of-war. Above it, on asort of framework, lay the prostrate statue of a nymph, together with abust of Fox, the nose of the latter being partly demolished, and theeyes knocked in. Above these, three garden divinities laid their headsamicably together. On the left stood a tall Grecian warrior, minus thehead and right hand. The whole was surmounted by an immense ventilator,stuck on the end of an iron rod, ascending, like a lightning-conductor,from the steam-engine pump.
Seen by the transient light of the moon, the various objects aboveenumerated produced a strange effect upon the beholder's imagination.There was a mixture of the grotesque and terrible about them. Nor wasthe building itself devoid of a certain influence upon his mind. Theragged brickwork, overgrown with weeds, took with him the semblance of ahuman face, and seemed to keep a wary eye on what was going forwardbelow.
A means of crossing from one side of the building to the other, withoutdescending into the vault beneath, was afforded by a couple of planks;though as the wall on the farther side was some feet higher than thatnear at hand, and the planks were considerably bent, the passageappeared hazardous.
Glancing round for a moment, the Tinker leaped into the cellar, and,unmasking his lantern, showed a sort of hiding-place, between a bulk oftimber and a boiler, to which he invited his companion.
The Sandman jumped down.
"The ale I drank at the 'Two Fighting Cocks' has made me feel drowsy,Tinker," he remarked, stretching himself on the bulk; "I'll just take asnooze. Vake me up if I snore--or ven our sperrit appears."
The Tinker replied in the affirmative; and the other had just becomelost to consciousness, when he received a nudge in the side, and hiscompanion whispered--"He's here!"
"Vhere--vhere?" dema
nded the Sandman, in some trepidation.
"Look up, and you'll see him," replied the other.
Slightly altering his position, the Sandman caught sight of a figurestanding upon the planks above them. It was that of a young man. His hatwas off, and his features, exposed to the full radiance of the moon,looked deathly pale, and though handsome, had a strange sinisterexpression. He was tall, slight, and well-proportioned; and the generalcut of his attire, the tightly-buttoned, single-breasted coat, togetherwith the moustache upon his lip, gave him a military air.
"He seems a-valkin' in his sleep," muttered the Sandman. "He'sa-speakin' to some von unwisible."
"Hush--hush!" whispered the other. "Let's hear wot he's a-sayin'."
"Why have you brought me here?" cried the young man, in a voice sohollow that it thrilled his auditors. "What is to be done?"
"It makes my blood run cold to hear him," whispered the Sandman. "Votd'ye think he sees?"
"Why do you not speak to me?" cried the young man--"why do you beckon meforward? Well, I obey. I will follow you."
And he moved slowly across the plank.
"See, he's a-goin' through that door," cried the Tinker. "Let's follerhim."
"I don't half like it," replied the Sandman, his teeth chattering withapprehension. "We shall see summat as'll take avay our senses."
"Tut!" cried the Tinker; "it's only a sleepy-valker. Wot are you afeerdon?"
With this he vaulted upon the planks, and peeping cautiously out of theopen door to which they led, saw the object of his scrutiny enter theadjoining house through a broken window.
Making a sign to the Sandman, who was close at his heels, the Tinkercrept forward on all fours, and, on reaching the window, raised himselfjust sufficiently to command the interior of the dwelling. Unfortunatelyfor him, the moon was at this moment obscured, and he could distinguishnothing except the dusky outline of the various objects with which theplace was filled, and which were nearly of the same kind as those of theneighbouring habitation. He listened intently, but not the slightestsound reached his ears.
After some time spent in this way, he began to fear the young man musthave departed, when all at once a piercing scream resounded through thedwelling. Some heavy matter was dislodged, with a thundering crash, andfootsteps were heard approaching the window.
Hastily retreating to their former hiding-place, the Tinker and hiscompanion had scarcely regained it, when the young man again appeared onthe plank. His demeanour had undergone a fearful change. He staggeredrather than walked, and his countenance was even paler than before.Having crossed the plank, he took his way along the top of the brokenwall towards the door.
"Now, then, Sandman!" cried the Tinker; "now's your time!"
The other nodded, and, grasping his mallet with a deadly and determinedpurpose, sprang noiselessly upon the wall, and overtook his intendedvictim just before he gained the door.
Hearing a sound behind him, the young man turned, and only just becameconscious of the presence of the Sandman, when the mallet descended uponhis head, and he fell crushed and senseless to the ground.
The Ruined house in the Vauxhall Road]
"The vork's done!" cried the Sandman to his companion, who instantlycame up with the dark lantern; "let's take him below, and strip him."
"Agreed," replied the Tinker; "but first let's see wot he has got in hispockets."
"Vith all my 'art," replied the Sandman, searching the clothes of thevictim. "A reader!--I hope it's well lined. Ve'll examine it below. Thebody 'ud tell awkvard tales if any von should chance to peep in."
"Shall we strip him here?" said the Tinker. "Now the darkey shines on'em, you see what famous togs the cull has on."
"Do you vant to have us scragged, fool?" cried the Sandman, springinginto the vault. "Hoist him down here."
With this, he placed the wounded man's legs over his own shoulders, and,aided by his comrade, was in the act of heaving down the body, when thestreet-door suddenly flew open, and a stout individual, attended by acouple of watchmen, appeared at it.
"There the villains are!" shouted the new-comer. "They have beenmurderin' a gentleman. Seize 'em--seize 'em!"
And, as he spoke, he discharged a pistol, the ball from which whistledpast the ears of the Tinker.
Without waiting for another salute of the same kind, which mightpossibly be nearer its mark, the ruffian kicked the lantern into thevault, and sprang after the Sandman, who had already disappeared.
Acquainted with the intricacies of the place, the Tinker guided hiscompanion through a hole into an adjoining vault, whence they scaled awall, got into the next house, and passing through an open window, madegood their retreat, while the watchmen were vainly searching for themunder every bulk and piece of iron.
"Here, watchmen!" cried the stout individual, who had acted as leader;"never mind the villains just now, but help me to convey this poor younggentleman to my house, where proper assistance can be rendered him. Hestill breathes; but he has received a terrible blow on the head. I hopehis skull ain't broken."
"It is to be hoped it ain't, Mr. Thorneycroft," replied the foremostwatchman; "but them was two desperate characters as ever I see, andcapable of any hatterosity."
"What a frightful scream I heard to be sure!" cried Mr. Thorneycroft. "Iwas certain somethin' dreadful was goin' on. It was fortunate I wasn'tgone to bed; and still more fortunate you happened to be comin' up atthe time. But we mustn't stand chatterin' here. Bring the poor younggentleman along."
Preceded by Mr. Thorneycroft, the watchmen carried the wounded manacross the road towards a small house, the door of which was held openby a female servant, with a candle in her hand. The poor woman uttered acry of horror as the body was brought in.
"Don't be cryin' out in that way, Peggy," cried Mr. Thorneycroft, "butgo and get me some brandy. Here, watchmen, lay the poor young gentlemandown on the sofa--there, gently, gently. And now, one of you run toWheeler Street, and fetch Mr. Howell, the surgeon. Less noise,Peggy--less noise, or you'll waken Miss Ebba, and I wouldn't have herdisturbed for the world."
With this, he snatched the bottle of brandy from the maid, filled awine-glass with the spirit, and poured it down the throat of the woundedman. A stifling sound followed, and after struggling violently forrespiration for a few seconds, the patient opened his eyes.