CHAPTER IX.
I have a faint recollection of feeling myself swung, and jolted down anumber of stairs, and of a cold breeze striking on my face. Anddoubtless they carried me down; for the room in which I had found myenemy was two floors above the cellarage. When I came to myself, I hadno idea where in the world I was. The air was heavy with a mostpowerful and oppressive smell, a reek and taint as of death andcorruption. It made me faint, and I think I must have gone off again.Lifting my head at last, I began to look languidly around. The table,or working-bench, on which I lay, was near the centre of a long andnarrow room, gloomy and cold, even in the dog-days, floored withmoss-green stone, and far below the ground-level. Those flag-stones, Isuppose, were bedded immediately upon the tough blue London clay, thatmost unconquerable stratum, sullen, damp, and barren. I could only seetwo windows in the long low room, both upon the same side, horizontallyfixed, and several feet from the floor. Heavy iron bars,perpendicularly set, crossed them at narrow intervals, as if it had beenthe condemned cell in a prison. One of these windows was alreadydarkened with a truss of straw, and sacks over it, placed outside theglass; as is done in Corsica, during Vendetta siege. The technical termis "inceppar le fenestre." Through the other window (which looked up aslide or scoop of brickwork, like a malt-shovel, to the flabby gardenbehind the house), I saw an arm, the colour and shape of an Americanherring, very active with a hammer.
I knew that arm at once. Sticking out at the joints, like the spurs ofa pear-tree, welted and wired with muscle between them, like thedrumstick of a turkey, but flat as if plaited of hide, no friend of minecould claim it, except the Corsican Cora. Deliberately she drove thenails, like a gardener training a tree, paying undue attention to herskinny knuckles; then she lifted the sacks, stooped down and looked in,grimly reconnoitring me. By the slanting light I saw what a horribleplace I lay in. Around and under me, on the furrowed timber, were dullplum-coloured blotches, where the slowly trickling blood of many anunlucky dog and cat had curdled; even if there were not any shed fromnobler veins. Reaching in a back-handed way towards the jagged margin,I grasped a cold hard cylinder. It was an iron hold-fast, like, butlarger than the instrument to be seen in every carpenter's bench, whichworks in a collared hole, and has a claw for clutching. Under it, nodoubt, many a poor live victim had quivered and sobbed in vain. At myhead were two square slides, fitted with straps of stout unyielding web.Near them was a rasped iron plane working along a metal bed or groove,with a solid T piece, and a winch to adjust it.
As with morbid observation I surveyed these fiendish devices, and manyothers which I cannot stop to tell of, I who love almost every creaturemade by our own Maker, especially those to whom we are lent as Gods, myflesh, I say, began to creep, and my blood to curdle, as if thedissecting knife were already in my diaphragm. Surely those who in fullmanhood torture His innocent creatures--poor things that cannot plead orweep, but worship the foot that kicks them--surely these, if any, we maywithout presumption say that He who made will judge. Four brief linesby a modern poet, too well known for me to quote them, express a grandand simple truth, seldom denied, more seldom felt.
But here am I, laid out in this fearful place, perhaps myself a subjectfor vivisection. No, I am not strapped; even my feet are free. Off thegrouted and grimy table I roll with all possible speed, the table whereeven strong Judy must have lain still as a skeleton. Of skeletons therewere plenty ranged around the walls, and other hideous things which Icannot bear to think of. One was a monstrous crocodile, with scaleslike a shed fir-cone, all reflexed and dry, and ringent lips of leather,and teeth that seemed to look the wrong way, like a daisy-rakeover-worked. Another was some pulled-out beast, that never could hithis own joints again--plesiosauri, deinosauri, marsupials,proboscidians--I am sure I cannot tell, having never been at college. Ionly know that at every one of them I shuddered, and shrugged myshoulders, and wished that he smelled rather nicer. Then there werenumbers of things always going up and down, in stuff like clarifiedsyrup, according to the change of temperature, just as leeches do in apickle-bottle. Snakes as well, and other reptiles streaked like sticksof peppermint, and centipedes, and Rio wrigglers, called I think LaCroya. It was enough in that vault-like room, which felt like thescooping of an August iceberg; it was more than enough to strike a chillto the marrow, as of one who sleeps in a bed newly brought from thecellar. But the worst and most horrible thing of all was the core andnucleus of the smell that might be felt, the half-dissected body of aporpoise, leaning on a dozen stout cross-poles. It was enough to makethe blood of a dog run cold.
Overpowered by sights and smells, and the fear of mingling with them, Ihuddled away in a corner, and tried in vain to take my eyes from theonly sign of life yet left, the motion of Cora's club-like arm. Thepoor old woman enjoyed my interest in her work, and when she hadfinished, she made me a mock salaam, and kissed the pixie's heart.Then, with a grin, she dropped the rough hangings, and left me inghastly twilight.
As the sacks fell over the window-frame, I lost all presence of mind,all honest indignation, everything but a coward horror, and theshrinking of life from death. With all the strength of my chest andthroat, I cast forth, as a cannon discharges, one long, volleyed,agonising shriek. As it rang among the skeletons, and rattled theirtissue-less joints, a small square grating in the upper panel of theheavy door swung back, and in the opening appeared the face of LepardoDella Croce. He lifted his hat with a pleasant air, and addressed mewith a smile,
"Ah! now, this I call a pity, a great pity, indeed, Miss Vaughan; butthat I always fear the imputation of pedantry, I should call it abathos. You can hardly be aware that since you made that dreadfulnoise, you have fallen in my opinion from a Porcia, or an Arria, to acommon maid Marian. Fie, fie, it is too disappointing. It saps one'scandid faith in the nobility of human nature. But, as I can no longerappeal to your courage or spirit, I must, it appears, address myself toyour reason; if, as I am fain to hope, your nerves have not impaired it.Be assured, then, once for all, that it is a vulgar error to exert yoursweet voice in so high a key. My little dissecting theatre, though notso perfect as I could wish, particularly in ventilation, is neverthelessso secured from erroneous plebeian sympathy, that all the cats in Londonmight squall away their fabulous nine lives without affecting the teaand muffins of the excellent old ladies who live on either side of us.That noble tabby, on the third shelf right, was a household god at No.39, until he had the honour of attracting my attention. Breathe not aword about him, if you ever come out. Twice a day, I sent to inquire,with my kindest compliments, whether poor Miss Jenkinson had recoveredher darling cat. Meanwhile, by inanition scientifically graduated, Isucceeded in absorbing his adipose deposit, and found him one of thekindest subjects I have had the pleasure of manipulating. Be notalarmed, Miss Vaughan; I have no intention of starving you; neither, ifyou behave with courtesy, will I even dissect you. I only mention theselittle facts to convince you of our pleasing retirement. The ceiling ofyour room is six feet below the level of the street, the walls are threefeet thick and felted, and the bricks set all as headers, which makes agreat difference in conducting power. The windows, as perhaps you havealready observed, are secluded from vulgar eyes, and command a verypartial view of our own little Eden. Moreover, if by exerting yournobly-developed chest, to an extent which for your sake I affectionatelydeprecate, you even succeeded at last in producing an undulation--do youremember my lecture upon the conflicting theories of sound?--or avibration in the tympanum of a neighbour, I fear you would beregarded--it shocks me greatly to think of it--as a cat of rare vocalpower, unduly agitated by my feeble pursuit of science. Therefore, letme conclude my friendly counsel in the language of all yourtheatres--ah! you have no drama now in this country, such poverty ofinvention--but in the words, which I regret to say, appear from six to adozen times in every British trugody, Miss Vaughan, 'Be calm.'"
Through all this brutal sneering, I stood resolutely with my back turn
edto him. Perhaps he thought that I would stoop to supplication. I couldhave bitten my tongue off for that contemptible shriek; it was such atriumph to him.
"Ah! sulky, I fear; young lady sulky with the poor Professor, who triesto develop her mind. Fie, fie, very small and ungrateful, and not halfso grand a study as the attitude of contempt. What a pity poor Conradwas not present an hour ago! How he might have enriched his little bookof schemata. Several most magnificent poses. But I fear the poorfellow has taken his last chip. A sad thing, was it not? Why, how youstart, Miss Vaughan! Oh, you can show your face at last! And how pale!Well, if eyes could only kill--"
"What is it--I mean be good enough just to go away."
"To be sure I will. I have a little matter on hand which must not bedelayed; to leave my carte de visite upon the right man, this time. Icannot sufficiently thank you for your invaluable information. Is thatsnug little entrance practicable still? Very hospitable people theyused to be at Vaughan Park. Fare you well, young lady; I will not keepyou in any unnecessary suspense. After my return, I shall arrange foryour release; if it can be made compatible with my safety. You willhave plenty of food, and much time for meditation. Let your thoughts ofme be liberal and kindly. I never injure any one, when I can avoid it.I only regret that the air you breathe will impair, for the while, yourroses. But what an opportunity of analysing the gases! Carbonic acidpredominant. Do you gratify me by bearing in mind a lecture, at whichyou were very attentive, on Malaria and Miasma?"
Taunting to the last, and sneering even at himself, as men of theblackest dye of wickedness are very apt to do, he closed the gratingcarefully, and I heard the ring of the metal cross on the rough stonesteps. He had the boots of vengeance on; his errand was stealthy andcold-blooded murder; me, who had never harmed him, he was abandoningperhaps to death, certainly to madness--and yet to his own ideas, all hewas doing was right.
Frantic at the horrors around me, and still more so at those impendingthrough my own rash folly, I tore and scratched at the solid door, andflung myself against it, till my nails were broken, and my fingersbleeding, and all my body palpitating with impotent mad fury. Inweariness at last and shame at this wild outburst, I sat upon the floor,for I could not touch the operator's stool, and tried to collect mythoughts. Was there any possibility of saving my poor Uncle? It mustnow be nearly four o'clock on the Friday afternoon, or at least I socomputed it. The beautiful watch given me by my Uncle had stoppedthrough my reckless violence, and the breaking of the glass. The hands,as I could barely perceive, stood at a quarter to four. Theexpress-train, by which Mrs. Fletcher and I were to have returned, wouldleave Paddington at five P.M. and reach Gloucester soon after eight.Lepardo Della Croce would catch it easily, and perhaps would accomplishhis foul design that night. My only hope of preventing him lay in hisown tenacity of usage. From my Uncle's account, I knew, that on theircursed Vendetta enterprises, a certain pilgrimage on foot is, in manyfamilies, regarded as a matter of honour. This usage owes its originperhaps to some faint trace of mercy, some wish to afford the evilpassions one more chance of relenting to the milder reflections ofweariness, and the influence of the air. Be that as it may, I believedthat the custom was hereditary in the Della Croce family; and if so, theenemy would finish his journey on foot, quitting the train some distanceon this side of Gloucester. Therefore if I could contrive to escape inthe course of the night, I might yet be in time.
All the rest of the daylight, such as it was, I spent in examining, inchby inch, every part of the loathsome chamber, which was now my dungeon.By this time all my patience, habitual more than natural, had returned,and all my really inborn determination and hope. Surely I had beenevery bit as badly off before, and had struggled through quite ashopeless a difficulty. If arduous courage and tough perseverance were ofany avail, those four walls should not hold me, though they might bethree feet thick. So stopping both my nostrils with cotton-wool from aspecimen (for the smell was most insufferable), and pinning up my dress,I set to work in earnest. First, I examined the windows: there wasnothing to hope from them; I could never loosen a bar, and even if Icould, I should only escape from one prison to another, for the gardenbehind the house was surrounded with high dead walls. Fireplace therewas none; the door had already baffled me; could I dig through the partywall, and into the adjoining house? Most likely it was all a falsehoodand boast about the thickness, intended perhaps to discourage me fromattempting the easiest way. And in so damp a place, the mortar probablywould be soft.
So, after searching and groping, ever so long, to find, if possible, oneloose brick to begin with, I drew from my pocket a knife, of which I wasvery proud, "because my father had given it me; and I looked at itwistfully in the dusk, because I feared so to break it. Nothing but thethought that life itself was at stake would ever have induced me to usethat beloved knife for work so very unsuitable.
It was a knife of strong but by no means elegant make, shorter in thehandle, and squarer in the joints, than the rising generation of knives.Very likely Sheffield of the present day would laugh at it; but likemost who laugh, it could not produce the fellow. My father himself hadowned it for nearly thirty years, and had treated it with the highrespect which an honest knife deserves. From this due regard hisdaughter had not derogated, and the knife was now as good as when itleft the maker's hand. It had never been honed in utter ignorance ofproper plane and angle, as nearly all knives are, and by none so oftenas the professional knife-grinder. I never dared to meddle with it,except on a very mild razor-strap; and all it was allowed to do was tomend my pens--I, Clara Vaughan, hate steel paper-stabbers--and sometimesto cut my pencils.
Now, this true and worshipful knife was to cut bricks and mortar! In mynatural affection for it, I hesitated and trembled, and knowing what wasto come it closed upon my fingers. Oh, ruthless Atta Naevia! trustyknife, fall to!
Meanwhile old Cora showed at the heavy grating her countenance demiss;to all my eager adjurations, promises, and prayers, she answered not aword, but grimly smiled, like an ancient bird, beyond the reach ofchaff. She handed me in a pint of milk, and a loaf of the varietytermed in London a "twopenny brick." A red herring on the toasting-fork,dripping with its own unction, was hastily shown, and then withdrawn,and the gordit appeared in its stead; which being done, the experienceddame winked, and regarded me deeply. This meant, "Surrender your legalright in Our Lady's heart, without which I shall have no luck, and Iwill give you this beautiful fish, hard-roed, and done to a nicety." Ahno, sweet Cora, a good red herring is not to be despised; but who couldeat in a reeking hole like this? Once I went, for Judy's sake, beingrash and light of step, into the back premises of a highly respectablebutcher. Woe is me, what I saw and smelt there was Muscat grapescompared to this.
When Cora had departed, after handing me in a pillow and a blanket ofthe true work-house texture, and crossing herself with a strangeexpression, meaning, as I interpreted, "Now keep alive if possible tillbreakfast time, young woman," I sat me down upon the floor at one end ofthe room, and began my labours. First. I put on a pair of tan-leathergloves; for small as my vanity is, I do not like my hands to lookaltogether like a hodman's. Then I removed a strip of the felt withwhich the wall was covered. It was nearly dark, but I could easily feelthe joints between the bricks. The mortar was not very good, but mywork was rendered doubly difficult by the bricks being all setcross-wise to the line of the wall; this, I suppose, is what he meantwhen he described them as "headers." By reason of this arrangement, Ihad to dig and dig for hours, before I could loosen a single brick; andworking all in the dark as I was, I feared every moment to break thestick-blade of my knife. The fingers of my gloves were very soon wornaway, and even the palm where the heel of the knife was chafing; nor wasit long before my skin was full of weals, and raspy, like the knobs Ihave seen inside the legs of a horse. At last, to my wonderful delight,one brick began to tremble. In another half-hour, I eased it out mostcarefully, kissed my trusty blade, now worn almost to
a skewer, and withstiff and aching muscles, and the trophy brick upon my lap, fell offinto as sound a sleep as ever I was blest with.