CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE BAR-PARLOUR
Dan Ogle, blinded and broken, but silent and saving his revenge: MuskyMag, stricken and pitiable, but faithful even if to death: Henry Viney,desperate but fearful, and urgently needy: these three skulked at bay indark holes by Blue Gate.
Sullen and silent to doggedness, Ogle would give no word to the hospitaldoctors of how his injury had befallen; and in three days he would brookconfinement no longer, but rose and broke away, defiant of persuasion,to grope into the outer world by aid of Mag's arm. Blind George wasabout still, but had scarcely been near the Highway except at night,when, as he had been wont to boast, he was as good as most men withsound eyes. It was thought that he spent his days over the water, aswould be the way of one feeling the need of temporary caution. It didnot matter: that could rest a bit. Blind George should be paid, and paidbitter measure; but first the job in hand, first the scheme he hadinterrupted; first the money.
Here were doubt and difficulty. Dan Ogle's plan of murder andcomprehensive pillage was gone by the board; he was next to helpless. Itwas plain that, whatever plan was followed, Viney must bear the activepart; Dan Ogle raved and cursed to find his partner so unpractised aruffian, so cautious and doubtful a confederate.
Mrs. Grimes made the matter harder, and it was plain that the thing mustbe either brought to a head or wholly abandoned, if only on her account.For she had her own idea, with her certain revenge on Captain Nat, and acontingent reward; furthermore, she saw her brother useless. And thingswere brought to a head when she would wait no more, but carried herintrigue to the police.
Nothing but a sudden move would do now, desperate as it might be; andthe fact screwed Viney to the sticking-place, and gave new vigour toOgle's shaken frame. After all, the delay had not been great--no morethan a few days. Captain Nat suspected nothing, and the chances lay thatthe notes were still in hand, as they had been when Ogle's sister lastsaw them; for he could afford to hold them, and dispose of them at alater and safer time. The one danger was from this manoeuvre of Mrs.Grimes: if the police thought well enough of her tale to act withoutpreliminary inquiry, they might be at the Hole in the Wall with asearch-warrant at any moment. The thing must be done at once--that verynight.
Musky Mag had never left Dan's side a moment since she had brought himfrom the hospital; now she was thrust aside, and bidden to keep toherself. Viney took to pen, ink and paper; and the two men waitedimpatiently for midnight.
It was then that Viney, with Ogle at his elbow, awaited the closing ofthe Hole in the Wall, hidden in the dark entry, whence Mrs. Grimes hadwatched the plain-clothes policeman fishing for information a few hoursearlier. The customers grew noisier as the hour neared; and CaptainNat's voice was heard enjoining order once or twice, ere at last it wasraised to clear the bar. Then the company came out, straggling andstaggering, wrangling and singing, and melted away into the dark, thisway and that. Mr. Cripps went east, the pale pensioner west, each like aman who has all night to get home in; and the potman, having fastenedthe shutters, took his coat and hat, and went his way also.
There was but one other tavern in sight, and that closed at the sametime as the Hole in the Wall; and since none nearer than Paddy's Gooseremained open till one, Wapping Wall was soon dark and empty. There werediamond-shaped holes near the top of the shutters at the Hole in theWall, and light was visible through these: a sign that Captain Nat wasstill engaged in the bar. Presently the light dulled, and thendisappeared: he had extinguished the lamps. Now was the time--while hewas in the bar-parlour. Viney came out from the entry, pulling Ogle bythe arm, and crossed the street. He brought him to the court entrance,and placed his hand on the end post.
"This is the first post in the court," Viney whispered. "Wait here whileI go. We both know what's to do."
Viney tip-toed to the bar-parlour door, and tapped. There was a heavyfootstep within, and the door was flung open. There stood Captain Natwith the table-lamp in his hand. "Who's that?" said Captain Nat. "Comeinto the light."
Viney took a deep breath. "Me," he answered. "I'll come in; I've gotsomething to say."
He went in side-foremost, with his back against the door-post, andCaptain Nat turned slowly, each man watching the other. Then thelandlord put the lamp on the table, and shut the door. "Well," he said,"I'll hear you say it."
There was something odd about Captain Nat's eyes: something new, andsomething that Viney did not like. Hard and quiet; not anger, it wouldseem, but some-thing indefinable--and worse. Viney braced himself withanother inspiration of breath.
"First," he said, "I'm alone here, but I've left word. There's a friendo' mine not far off, waiting. He's waiting where he can hear the clockstrike on Shadwell Church, just as you can hear it here; an' if I'm notback with him, safe an' sound, when it strikes one, he's going to thepolice with some papers I've given him, in an envelope."
"Ah! An' what papers?"
"Papers I've written myself. Papers with a sort of private log inthem--not much like the one they showed 'em at Lloyd's--of the loss ofthe _Florence_ years enough ago, when a man named Dan Webb was killed.Papers with the names of most of the men aboard, an' hints as to whereto find some of 'em: Bill Stagg, for instance, A. B. They may not wantto talk, but they can be made."
Captain Nat's fixed look was oddly impassive. "Have you got it on thepapers," he said, in a curiously even voice, as though he recited alesson learned by rote; "have you got it on the papers that Dan Webb hadgot at the rum, an' was lost through bein' drunk?"
"No, I haven't; an' much good it 'ud do ye if I had. Drunk or sober hedied in that wreck, an' not a man aboard but knew all about that. I'vetold you, before, what it is by law: Murder. Murder an' the Rope."
"Ay," said Captain Nat in the same even voice, though the tones grew insignificance as he went on. "Ay, you have; an' you made me pay for theinformation. Murder it is, an' the Rope, by the law of England."
"Well, I want none of your money now; I want my own. I'll go back an'burn those papers--or give 'em to you, if you like--an' you'll never seeme again, if you'll do one thing--not with your money."
"What?"
"Give me my partner's leather pocket-book and my eight hundred and tenpounds that was in it. That's first an' last of my business hereto-night, an' all I've got to say."
For a moment Captain Nat's impassibility was disturbed, and he lookedsharply at Viney. "Ha!" he said, "what's this? Partner's pocket-book?Notes? What?"
"I've said it plain, an' you understand me. Time's passing, Cap'en Kemp,an' you'd better not waste it arguing; one o'clock'll strike beforelong. The money I came an' spoke about when they found Marr in theriver; you had it all the time, an' you knew it. That's what I want:nothing o' yours, but my own money. Give me my own money, an' save yourneck."
Captain Nat compressed his lips, and folded his arms. "There was a womanknew about this," he said slowly, after a pause, "a woman an' a man.They each took a try at that money, in different ways. They must befriends o' yours."
"Time's going, Cap'en Kemp, time's going! Listen to reason, an' give mewhat's my own. I want nothing o' yours; nothing but my own. To save you;and--and that boy. You've got a boy to remember: think o' the boy!"
Captain Nat stood for a little, silent and thoughtful, his eyes directedabsently on Viney, as though he saw him not; and as he stood so thedarkness cleared from his face. Not that moment's darkness only, but allthe hardness of years seemed to abate in the old skipper's features, sothat presently Captain Nat stood transfigured.
"Ay," he said at last, "the boy--I'll think o' the boy, God bless him!You shall have your money, Viney: though whether it ought to be yours Idon't know. Viney, when you came in I was ready to break you in pieceswith my bare hands--which I could do easy, as you know well enough." Hestretched forth the great knotted hands, and Viney shrank before them."I was ready to kill you with my hands, an' would ha' done it, for areason I'll tell you of, afterwards. But I've done evil enough, an' I'lldo no more. You shall have your money. Wait he
re, an' I'll fetch it."
"Now, no--no tricks, you know!" said Viney, a little nervously, as theold man turned toward the staircase door.
"Tricks?" came the answer. "No. An end of all tricks." And Captain Nattramped heavily up the stair.