CHAPTER XVIII.
Inspector Cutting gave me some minute instructions, and in less thanhalf an hour we set forth upon our enterprise. I was wrapped in a loosegrey cloak having a hooded cape; and carefully hidden I carried forself-defence a very keen stiletto. I had procured it indirectly fromthe best cutler in London, but neither workmanship nor material could becompared to that of Italy.
The night was dark and cold, the streets were almost deserted, and allthe shops except the chemists' and the public-houses closed. We walkedstraightway to the nearest cabstand, where Mr. Cutting ordered avehicle, and put me inside, himself riding with the driver. So littledid I know as yet of London, that after the first turn or two, I couldnot even guess what direction we were taking. I had such confidence inmy guide, a staid respectable man with a grown up family, that I neverthought there could be harm in my journeying with him at night. Andeven had I thought so, most likely I should have done it all the same.Ever since the time he wounded me, or allowed me to wound myself, hismanner towards me had been most kind, considerate, and respectful;though he found it his duty now and then to repress my impetuosity.
With all my perception alert, I kept a sharp look-out from the window,but vainly strove to find anything that might serve for a landmark.Once we stopped for about five minutes, at a police-station somewhere inClerkenwell, where, by the light of a lamp, I read, without leaving thecab, the ghastly descriptions of all the dead bodies recently found inLondon and waiting identification. Hereupon my courage began to ooze,and the weather seemed much colder. The type was hard to read at thatdistance, and the imagination had fair play, as it does when words comeslowly.
Anon the inspector reappeared, so altered in dress and countenance, thatI did not know him until he made me a bow. With a glance ofencouragement, and a little grin of dry humour, he mounted the boxagain. After another long drive, in the course of which we ran silentlyover a wooden road,--probably High Holborn,--we stopped in a broad butdeserted thoroughfare, very badly lighted. Here Mr. Cutting opened thedoor, helped me out, and discharged the cab, but whispered something tothe driver before he let him go.
"Now take my arm, Miss Valence, if you please. I have escorted many alady of higher birth than yours."
"Of higher title perhaps, Mr. Cutting; and their grandfathersmoney-lenders, or perhaps far worse."
"I am sure I don't know; we must take things as we find them. I thoughtyou despised such nonsense. But the cabbage that runs to seed is thetallest in the field. No Englishman sees the nonsense of it, unless hehappens to be a detective or a grave-digger."
"Do you mean to say that those of lofty birth are worse than those oflow birth?"
"No, I mean nothing of the sort. But I do mean that they ought to bebetter, and on the whole are not so. Nature holds the balance, andtemptation and education chuck into the opposite scales, and I think thefirst chucks fastest. At any rate I would rather have a good drunkennavvy than a lord to take to the station. I mean of course when my ownrank was not what it is."
This little dissertation was meant to divert my thoughts. I made noreply, being ignorant of such matters; neither did I care to talk aboutthem then. Nevertheless, I believe Inspector Cutting was wrong. As weentered a narrow street he suddenly turned and looked at me.
"Poor child! how you tremble! Draw your cape more forward; the bittercold requires it. Are you trembling from fear?"
"No; only from cold." But I tried in vain to think so.
"A steady hand and steadfast nerve are wanted for your task. If youcannot rely on them, say so at once. In five minutes you will have noretreat."
"I shall be better directly. But I am so cold. Inspector Cutting, itmust be freezing hard--ten degrees, I should think."
"It does not freeze at all. I see we must warm you a little. But nomore 'Inspector Cutting,' if you please, until to-morrow."
Hereupon he led me into a little room, fenced off from the bar of somerefreshment-house. A glorious fire was burning, by which he set andleft me. Presently he returned, with a small glass in his hand.
"Drink this, young lady. It will warm you, and brace your nerves."
I saw by the firelight that it was brandy, or some dark-coloured spirit.
"No, I thank you. Do you suppose that I require Dutch courage?"
I threw such emphasis on the personal pronoun, and looked at him soindignantly, that he laughed outright.
"I thank you in turn. You suppose that I do. I will justify yourdiscernment." And with that he tipped it off, and then returned tobusiness, all the graver for the interlude.
"Now, if you are really warm, we will start again. Stop one moment. Ihave heard you cough two or three times. Can you keep it under?"
I assured him that I could very easily do so, and that it was nothingbut the sudden effect of the cold. Forth we went again into the winternight, after I had learned from him that we were now in Whitechapel, notfar from Goodman's Fields.
After another short walk, we came to the end of a narrow by-street,where there was an archway. Passing through this archway, we descendedsome steep and broken steps. Then the Inspector produced a small lampbrightly burning, which he must have lit at the public-house. It wasnot what is called a bull's-eye, but a reflector-lamp. By its light Isaw that the chief entrance to the house must be round the corner, andperhaps in another street. With a small key which he took from hispocket, Mr. Cutting unlocked a little iron gate, and we entered a narrowpassage. At the end of it was a massive door studded with great nails.Here my guide gave a gentle knock, and hid the lamp as before.
Presently we heard a shrill sound from the keyhole, like a dryad'svoice. The Inspector stooped thereto, and pronounced the password. Notwithout some difficulty the lock was turned and the bolts withdrawn, andwe stood inside. A child, under-sized and unnaturally sharp, stared atus for a moment, then dodged away from the lamp, as if more accustomedto darkness. Mr. Cutting closed the door and refastened it, then led methrough some basement rooms unpaved and unfurnished, until we came to aniron step-ladder. This he ascended, and helped me up, and we foundourselves in a small dark lobby, containing no furniture, except a highthree-legged stool. When he closed his lamp all around was dark, but onthe rafters overhead a faint patch of light appeared--ceiling there wasnone.
"Do you see that light?" he whispered to me, pointing, as I could justperceive, to a narrow glazed opening high in the wall, whence the faintgleam proceeded.
"Then jump upon this stool, and do your best to see through."
He cast the light of his lamp upon the stool for a moment, while I didas he bade me. Standing there, I found that I was tall enough to lookthrough; but the narrow pane which formed the window was thickly coveredwith size, or some opaque integument. All I could tell was, that thespace beyond was lighted.
"I know you can't see now," he said, as I came down despairing, "but youshall see by and by. The fools who were here before sized the glass onthe wrong side, and this lot, though much sharper, have not correctedthe error. They keep that window for escape in the last resort. Nowtake this bottle and this camel's-hair brush; it will make the glasstransparent without the smallest noise. The men are not there yet. Wecould easily rub it clear now, but they will examine it. When the timecomes, use the liquid most carefully and lightly, and don't spread ithigher than an inch from the bottom of the frame. The lights are atthis end; the shadow of the sill will allow you just an inch."
"And how far may I go horizontally?"
"The whole length of the glass, to command as much view as possible.The effect will pass in three or four minutes, but you must not do itagain. If you do, the glass will fly, and you will be in their hands.Desperate men they are, and though I shall be near, I might be too lateto save you. See all you can, to be able to swear to them all."
"How shall I know the one?"
"I cannot tell you. I must leave it to your instinct, or yourintuition. I only know myself that he is on
e of the four. Myinformation, such as it is, was obtained very oddly, and I trust to thisnight's work to make it more precise. One thing more: No noise, if youvalue your life. Keep the bottle stopped. Don't let the stuff drop onyou; don't put your eyes to it, or it will blind you for ever. There isvery little of it, because it is so deadly."
"When shall I do it?"
"In one hour from this time. Take this repeater. I have shown you howto use it. Look well at it now, while you have the light."
I looked at the watch; it was nearly midnight.
"Am I to be left in the dark--all in the dark here, by myself?"
"Yes. I must be seen elsewhere, or the whole thing fails. They know meeven in this dress, and they watch me as I do them. But for to-night Ibelieve I have misled them. When it is over, wait here till I come foryou, or the little girl you saw."
"Oh! I wish I had never come; and all so vague and indecisive!"
"You can go back now, if you please; though ever that would bedangerous."
"I will not go back. No doubt I shall know him. When will you securehim?"
"When my evidence is completed. Now, remember, you have to deal withmen keen as hawks, and stealthy as tigers. But there is no real danger,if you keep your self-command. Observe all four as narrowly as you can,both for your own sake and for mine. Be careful to stand on the centreof the stool. But you had better not get upon it until they havesearched the room. Now, good-bye. I trust to your courage. If anyharm comes, I will avenge you."
"A comfort that! What good will it be to me?"
"If vengeance is no good, what are you doing here?"
"Thank you. That is no business of yours. Don't let me detain you."
He told me afterwards that he had vexed me on purpose to arouse mymettle. And I am sure I needed it.
"Ah! now you are all right. If your caution fails you, the man who slewyour father will be sure to escape us."
"If it fails me, 'twill be from anger, not from terror."
"I know it. Let me look at you."
He threw the full light on my face. The burnished concave was notbrighter or firmer than my eyes.
"Pale as death, and quite as resolute. Rely only upon yourself."
"God and myself," I whispered, as he glided out of sight along thevaults below. I could see no other entrance to the place in which Isat; but how could I tell?
For a minute excitement kept me hot; but as the last gleam of the lightdied upon the wall below, my heart began to throb heavily, and a chillcame over me. The pulse thumped in my ears, like a knocking in thecellar. "Was it fear?" I asked myself, in scorn that I should ask. No,it was not fear, but horrible suspense. The balance of life and death,of triumph and disgrace, swung there before me in the dark, as if mybreath would turn it. No dream of a child, no vagary of the brain--theclear perception of strong will and soul poised upon this moment.
The moment was too long; the powers began to fail, the senses grew morefaint and confused at every heavy throb. Little images and littlequestions took the place of large ones. In vain I looked for even acobweb, or the skeleton of a fly, where the dull light flickered throughthe pane of glass. In vain I listened for a mouse. Even a rat (much asI hate him) would have been welcome then. The repeater was purposelymade so low of tick, that I got no comfort thence. All was deep,unfathomable silence, except the sound of my rebel heart.
As a forlorn hope, I began to reckon sixty slowly, as a child keeps witha ticking clock.
It would not do. My heart was beating louder than ever, and my handswere trembling; even my teeth rattled like dice in a box as the timeapproached.
The nerves will not be hoodwinked; the mind cannot swindle the body. Ionce slapped the cheeks of my governess. I cannot treat nature so. Trythe sweet influence, and the honest coin of reason. It will not do.All trembling, I strike the repeater. Five minutes more, and the trialmust come. My heart is fluttering like a pigeon's throat. The longsuspense has been too much. Oh! why was I submitted to this cruelordeal? The walls are thick. I can hear no movement in the secret room.
There comes a creeping, fingering, sound, as of one whose candle is out,groping for the door. It passes along the pane of glass, and a shadowis thrown on the rafter. Who can it be? What stealthy hand but that ofmy father's murderer?
The word--the thought is enough. What resolution, reason, justice, allin turn, have failed to do, passion has done at once--passion at myself,as well as at my enemy. Is it Clara Vaughan, who, for eight long yearsof demon's reign, has breathed but for this moment--is Clara Vaughan toshake like the wooden-legged blackbird now her chance is come?
A rush of triumph burned, like vitriol, through my veins. Every nervewas braced, every sense alert and eager. Against the light of thatwindow, dull as it was, I could have threaded the finest needle thatever was made.
I struck my repeater again. It was the hour, the minute, when my fatherdied. With the mere spring of my instep I leaped upon the stool. Icould see it clearly now. I dipped the broad camel's-hair brush in theflat phial, holding it carefully at arm's length, and then drew itlightly along the pane, quite at the bottom, from corner to corner. Onemore dip, one more stripe above, a steam hovered on the glass, and therewas a gazing-place, clear as crystal, and wide enough to show most ofthe narrow room. Of the room itself I took no heed; the occupants weremy study.
Only four in all. One man at a high desk writing rapidly; three mensitting round a small table, talking earnestly, and with muchgesticulation, but the tone too low for me even to guess their language.From the appearance, manner, and action of the speakers, I felt surethat it was not English, and I thought that it was not French. Why, Icannot say; but my attention fixed itself upon the man who was writingat the top of the room. Perhaps it was because I could see him best,for he stood with his face full towards me.
He was a man of middle age and stature, strongly framed, closely knit,and light of limb, with a handsome, keenly oval face, broad forehead,black eyes, glancing quickly and scornfully at his three comrades, longhair of an iron grey, falling on his shoulders, and tossed back oftenwith a jerk of the head. His hands were white and restless, quick aslight in their motion. On the left thumb flashed a large red jewel.Though I could not see the paper, I knew by the course of the quill thatthe writing was very small. But one minute I watched him, for the filmwas returning upon the glass, and I must scan the others; yet in thattime he had written several lines, half of them without looking at thepaper, but with his eyes upon the other three.
I knew him now he was in clear light, I could swear to him anywhereagain. The last glance I could spare him sent a shudder through me, forin his impatience he shifted one foot from the shade of the desk. Itwas small, pointed, and elegant.
The film was thickening, like frost upon the pane, when I began toobserve the others. But I saw enough to print their faces on my memory,or those at least of two. The third I could not see so well. He seemedolder than the rest. All the men wore loose grey tunics, with a redsash over the left shoulder. I judged that the three were debatinghotly, as to some measure, upon which the fourth had resolved. Everynow and then, they glanced at him uneasily.
At him I gazed again, with deadly hatred, cold as ice, upon my heart. Ifelt my dagger handle. Oh for one moment with him! In my fury I forgotthe Inspector's warning. The film was closing over. I touched theglass with my lashes. A flash of agony shot through my eyes. With ajerk I drew back, the stool rocked under me, one foot of it struck thewall. I clutched the window sill, and threw my weight inwards. Downcame the foot of the stool, loud as the bang of a door.
I thought it was all over. How I stifled a scream I know not; had itescaped me, I should never have told this story. I had the presence ofmind to stand still, and watch, though my eyes were maddening me, whatthe cut-throats would do. Through the agony, and the dimness, I couldjust see them all start, and rush to the door at the side of the room.The writer stood first, with his papers thru
st anyhow into his bosom, apistol in one hand, a poniard in the other. Did I know the shape of it?The other three were armed, but I could not see with what. Theycrouched behind a heavy screen, presenting (I supposed) their pistolmuzzles at the door. Finding no attack ensue, they began to search. Nowwas the real danger to me. If they searched that window before the sizereturned, my life ended there. Fear was past. Desperation seized me.If I was doomed to blindness, just as well to death. But I clutched mydagger.
My left ear was against the wall. I heard a hand graze the partitioninside, then a chair placed under the embrasure, and a step upon it. Iwas still upon the stool, stooping close beneath the window frame.Suddenly the light streak vanished, the size flew over it, as the breathflies over glass in the hardest frost. The hand felt along the windowframe, the dull shadow of a head flitted upon the beam. It was within afoot of mine. The searcher passed on, without suspicion.
Strange it was, but now the deadliest peril was over, triple fear fellupon me. The heat flew back to my heart, just now so stanch and rigid;my hair seemed to creep with terror. Dear life, like true love scorned,would have its way within me. Quietly I slid down from the stool, andcowered upon it, in a storm of trembling. My eyelids dropped in agony,I could not lift them again, but blue and red lights seemed to dancewithin them. I had made up my mind to blindness; but not, oh not justyet, to death.
How long I remained in this abject state, scorning myself, yet none thebraver, is more than I can tell, or even cared to ask. May it never bethe lot of any, not even the basest murderer! Worn out at last, in alull of pain and terror, I fell into deep sleep, from which I wasawakened by a hand upon my shoulder.
I tried to look up, but could not. Sight was fled, and as I thought forever. But I felt that it was a friend.
"Ah, I see how it is"--the voice was Inspector Cutting's--"my poorchild, there is now no danger. Give me your hand:" he tried to lift me,but I fell against the wall.
"Take a sip of this, we must restore circulation. It is the cold asmuch as anything; another sip, Miss Vaughan." He used my true name onpurpose; it helped to restore me. He was most humane and kind; he didnot even remind me of Dutch courage.
CLARA VAUGHAN
BOOK III.