CHAPTER CXIV.

OLD DEATH IN THE DUNGEON.

It was five o’clock in the evening of the following day; and Old Death was crouched up, like a wild beast, upon his bed in the dungeon, which was now lighted by the lamp that Esther de Medina had given him.

His natural emaciation had so frightfully increased, that he seemed but a skeleton in the clothes which hung upon him as if they had never been made for one so thin as he. The skirts of his old grey coat were wrapped around his wasted shanks--for, though it was now the month of May, yet it was cold in that dungeon. His countenance was wan and ghastly;--but its expression was little calculated to excite pity--for any thing more diabolically ferocious than the old miscreant’s aspect, cannot be well conceived. His face was the horrible reflex of a mind filled with passions and longings of so savage and inhuman a nature, that the mere thought makes one shudder.

“She will come presently,” he muttered to himself, with a kind of subdued growling which indicated the fury of his pent-up rage: “she will come presently,” he repeated, his eyes glaring like those of a hyena beneath his shaggy, over-hanging brows; “and perhaps it will be for to-day! Who knows? she may think me penitent enough to be no longer dangerous: and then--then----”

He paused, and ground his jaws savagely together as if they were filled with teeth; and his hands were clenched with such spasmodic violence that the long nails ran into the palms.

“For two months and a half,” he continued at length, and still musing to himself, “has the fiend--the infernal wretch--my mortal enemy, kept me here! For two months and a half have I been his prisoner! Perdition seize upon him! That man was sent into the world to be my ruin--to thwart me--to persecute me! From the first moment I ever met him six or seven months ago, all has gone wrong with me. But the day of vengeance must and shall come,--yes--vengeance--vengeance--though it costs me my life. Ah! he fancies that I am ignorant of his secret: and yet I understand it all now--yes--all, all! Rapid as was the gleam of the lamp which showed me his features the first time he ever visited me here, so quick did a light flash to my mind--so quick did the truth break upon me! Yes--yes--I understand it all _now_;”--and he chuckled in a scarcely audible manner, yet the more horribly menacing because it was so subdued and low. “But how can it be?--how could he have been saved?” he asked himself, in his sombre musings: then, after a brief pause, during which he rocked to and fro on the bed, he continued, “Never mind the _how_! That such is the fact I am confident--and that is enough for me! Yes--yes--that is enough for me! Fool that I was ever for a moment to suspect him to be Lord Ellingham! And yet I should have clung to this belief, had not the lamp glared upon his face as he darted out of the cell! Ah! ah! he little thinks that I know him now--that I have known him ever since the moment when the light showed me his features, blackened as they were! Ah! ah!” again chuckled Old Death: “I fancy that I have lulled them into an idea of my penitence! They imagine that the work of reformation has begun with me! Ah! ha! I played my cards well there! I did not whine and weep too soon--I appeared to be precious tough, and precious obstinate; and my slow conversion seemed all the more natural. They will fall all the easier into the snare: they----”

At this moment a slight noise at the door of the cell made the ancient miscreant start; and he instantaneously composed his features into as mournful and sanctimonious an expression as such a horribly hang-dog countenance could possibly assume.

The trap-door opened; and a sweet, musical voice said, “I am here again, according to my promise: you see that I do not desert you.”

“Ah my dear young lady,” cried Old Death, affecting a tremulous tone, “you are too good to such a dreadful sinner as I have been! My God! when I think of all the atrocity that I once planned against you, I feel inclined to implore you to depart from even the vicinity of such a wretch as me!”

“Have you not been already assured that you are fully and completely forgiven in reference to the wickedness to which you allude?” demanded the young lady, whose beautiful countenance was now plainly visible to Old Death through the grating over the aperture in the door.

“Yes, Miss de Medina,” returned the wretch, assuming a still more penitent tone; “but I cannot forgive myself. You are an angel, dear young lady--and I am a demon. I know I am! All last night I endeavoured to read the Bible that you gave me yesterday: but I cannot settle my mind to the task. I want some one to read it to me--if only for half an hour every day. But this cannot be--I am aware it cannot! You--the only person living that could have made such an impression upon me--are afraid to enter my cell. You told me so yesterday. But am I not a human being?--am I a wild beast? Ah! dear young lady--I could not injure you!”--and the old miscreant appeared to weep.

“Do you think it would console you if I were to place confidence in you--enter your cell--and read you a portion of the Word of God?”

“Why do you tantalize an old, old man who is miserable enough as it is?” asked Old Death, in return to this question. “Do you suppose that I am not weighed down to the very dust by an awful load of crime? If you are afraid to come into the cell, send me a clergyman. But, no--no,” he added, as if yielding to the sudden influence of a second thought: “I will pray with no one but yourself! You have been my good angel--you first touched my heart. I must wait till you have sufficient confidence in me to follow up the blessed work you have already begun so well. Yes--yes--even if I must remain here for a whole year, I will not receive consolation from any one but you!”

“If I only thought that you were so far advanced in the path of penitence----”

“Can you doubt it?” hastily demanded the prisoner. “Have you such little confidence in your own powers of persuasion? Oh! my dear young lady,” continued the wretch, falling upon his knees on the floor of the cell, and joining his hands together, “have pity upon me--have pity upon me! Your mistrust of me pierces like a dagger to my heart. I crave--I long to be able to show you my gratitude;--and that can only be by proving my contrition. Dear young lady, have mercy on an old, old man, who would embrace the very ground on which you tread!”

“It would be wicked--it would be a crime to refuse your demand,” said the sweet, musical voice, now tremulous with emotion, of her whom the demon-hearted hypocrite called his good angel. “Stay--I will fetch the key--and on my return I will read the Bible to you.”

And the Hebrew lady hurried away from the vicinity of the dungeon; and, having ascended the spiral stone staircase with rapid steps, entered the apartment usually inhabited by the Blackamoor. But he was not there: and she paused--uncertain how to act; for she now remembered that he had gone out for a short time immediately after giving her certain instructions relative to the conduct she was to maintain towards Old Death.

“I should not like to do this without his consent,” she murmured to herself: “and yet the prisoner is so penitent--so contrite, that it would be a sin--nay, a crime, not to confirm the salutary impression which is now so strong upon him. Yes--yes,” she continued: “I will take this step upon my own responsibility! Surely _he_ will not blame me for thus exceeding his instructions, when the cause is so good and the need seems so urgent!”

Thus speaking, she took down a large key from a nail inside a cupboard, and retraced her way to the subterranean.

In the meantime--during the ten minutes which her absence lasted--Old Death was agitated by a thousand conflicting thoughts. At one moment an infernal joy filled his heart, and he rubbed his hands together in horrible and fiend-like glee: at the next instant his countenance became convulsed with the hideous workings of his fears lest something should occur to prevent the Jewess from entering his cell. He seemed to live an age in that ten minutes; and he felt that if the terrific excitement which he thus endured, were to last for an hour, it would crush and overwhelm him. All the worst passions of his diabolical nature were set in motion like the waves of the sea: and in that short space of time were awakened feelings which, for intensity of awful spite and inveterate malignity, were probably never before nor since paralleled in the breast of man!

At length there was a slight rustling of a silk dress and the sound of a gentle though hasty tread in the passage without; and in a few moments the beautiful countenance of the Jewess appeared at the grated aperture.

“Blessed young lady!” exclaimed Old Death, suddenly exercising an immense mastery over his ferocious passions, and assuming a tone of mingled gratitude and hope.

“Heaven grant that the step which I am now taking may have a permanently beneficial effect!” said the Jewess, in a voice profoundly sincere, as she placed the key in the lock.

Then, with her gentle hands, she drew back the massive bolts; and in another moment she entered the dungeon in which the greatest miscreant that ever disgraced human nature was crouched upon the bed, like a tiger ready to spring from its lair.

For upwards of a minute this dreadful man could scarcely believe his eyes--could scarcely credit his own senses. Was it possible that she was there--there, in his presence--there, in his power? It appeared to be a dream; and a momentary dizziness seized upon him.

“Give me the Bible,” said the Jewess, taking the chair; “and do you draw near me.”

“Here is the book,” observed Old Death, in a deep tone which might well be mistaken for the sign of solemn feelings, and was indeed so interpreted.

The lady placed the sacred volume upon the table before her, and began to turn over its leaves in order to find the passage which she deemed most appropriate and suitable for the circumstances of the occasion. Having discovered the chapter which she sought, she raised her eyes towards Old Death’s countenance in order to assure herself that he was in readiness for her to begin; but a sudden sensation of horror and apprehension seized upon her, as she caught a glimpse of the diabolical expression of those features on which the pale light of the flickering lamp fell with sinister effect.

Then, with a howl of ferocious rage, that old man, whom the deep craving after a bloody vengeance now rendered as strong as a giant,--that old man precipitated himself upon the terrified Jewess with all the fury of a ravenous monster, the chair broke down beneath the shock; and with dreadful shrieks and appalling screams the Hebrew lady fell upon the dungeon-floor, held tight in the grasp of the miscreant, who was uppermost.

In another instant those shrieks and screams yielded to subdued moans; for his fingers had fixed themselves round her throat like an iron vice. Desperate--desperate were her struggles,--the struggles of the agony of death: but Benjamin Bones seemed to gather energy and force from the mere act of this strong resistance;--and as his grasp tightened round his victim’s neck, low but savage growls escaped his lips.

By degrees the struggling grew less violent--and a gurgling sound succeeded the moans of the Jewish lady. Tighter--and more tightly still were pressed the demon’s fingers, until his long nails entered her soft and palpitating flesh. Oh! it was horrible--horrible,--this scene of ruthless murder in that subterranean dungeon!

At length the movements of the victim became mere convulsive spasms: but her large dark eyes, now unnaturally brilliant, glared up at Old Death, fixedly and appallingly. Nevertheless, he was not terrified--he was not stricken with remorse! No--still, still he clung to his victim, his own eyes looking down ferociously into hers, and the workings of his countenance displaying a fiend-like triumph--a savage glory in the awful deed which he was perpetrating.

Nearly five minutes had elapsed from the instant when the murderer first sprang upon the unfortunate Jewess: and now, suddenly starting to his feet, he seized the lamp and dashed it upon her head. A low moan escaped her--and all was silent.

Yes--all was silent, and all was darkness too; for the light had been extinguished:--and Old Death precipitated himself from the dungeon.

He hurried along the subterranean, which he knew so well,--hurried along towards the spiral stair-case, wondering whether he should be enabled to effect his escape, yet almost reckless and desperate as to what might become of him, now that his savage vengeance was accomplished.

He ascended the stone steps--he entered the room which had for years and years served him as a bed-chamber, before he had been compelled to dispose of the house to Lord Ellingham. He passed into the laboratory: and as yet he had proceeded without interruption. Joy! joy! he should escape yet--the adjoining room, now fitted up as a handsome parlour, was likewise untenanted at the moment:--joy! joy! he is descending the stair-case leading to the hall!

Is it possible that he will escape? Fortune seems to favour the diabolical murderer; and his hand is now upon the latch of the front-door--he stands as it were once more upon the threshold of that great world which is so wide and has so many channels for the machinations of the wicked! The house seems deserted--not a questioning voice falls upon his ear,--not the step of a human foot, save his own, interrupts the silence of the place! Yes--it appears as if escape be now a certainty,--escape for him who dared not hope for it, and did not even think of it, when intent on the all-absorbing scheme of his vengeance!

And now the front-door opens to his touch: but--ah! he has blood upon his hands--the blood that had flowed from the neck of the murdered Jewess. He starts back--he hesitates for a moment,--but only for a moment: Old Death is not the man to remain long uncertain how to proceed in such a strait!

Thrusting his hands--his gore-stained hands--into his pockets, the demon-hearted monster issues as coolly and calmly from the house as if it were his own and he had nothing to fear. The fresh air of heaven--untasted by him for ten long weeks--comes gushing upon his face: he is free--he is free!

“Ah!” is the hasty ejaculation which now falls on his ear: he looks around--a man is bounding, flying towards him--and in another instant he is in the grasp of the Blackamoor.

A short and desperate struggle takes place; and a crowd immediately gathers near--for the Sessions are being held at Hicks’s Hall, on Clerkenwell Green, so that the neighbourhood presents the bustling appearance usual on such occasions.

“Seize him--hold him!” yells forth Old Death, as his powerful opponent hurls him towards the house-door, which the miscreant had not closed behind him.

“He is a mad-man--escaped from a lunatic asylum!” exclaimed the Blackamoor, horrible apprehensions filling his soul relative to the Jewess--for his eyes had caught sight of the blood upon Old Death’s hands.

“No--no--I am not a mad-man!” shrieked out the latter. “Seize him--hold him, I say:--_he has escaped the scaffold--he is_ TOM RAIN, _the highwayman_!”

At that dreadful announcement the Blackamoor was struck speechless and motionless, as if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet; and in the next instant he was in the grasp of Dykes and Bingham, who, having business at the Sessions House, happened to be amongst the crowd gathered at the entrance of Red Lion Street.

“Yes--seize him--hold him tight!” yelled Benjamin Bones: “he is Tom Rain, I tell you--his face is coloured purposely--but I knew that he is Tom Rain!”

“And hold that miscreant also!” ejaculated Rainford--for he indeed the Blackamoor was: “seize him--let him not escape!” he cried, recovering the power of speech, as his eyes again caught a glimpse of the blood-stained hands of Old Death. “There has been murder committed in this house----My God! my God!”

The crowd had now not only increased to such an extent as to render the way perfectly impassable; but a tremendous sensation suddenly seized upon the assemblage,--the news that Tom Rain, the celebrated highwayman, had escaped death by some miraculous means, and was once more in custody, circulating like wild-fire. Dykes and Bingham, knowing that in such a case the sympathies of the mob were most likely to turn in favour of the prisoner, hurried him and Old Death into the house, whither they were followed by three or four other constables; and the door was immediately closed in the face of the crowd, and secured within.

On reaching the sitting-room the first-floor, the party halted; and Old Death, now completely overcome by the excitement of the incidents which had so rapidly succeeded each other in a short half-hour, threw himself exhausted into a chair.

“Well, Mr. Rainford,” said Dykes, with something like a malicious grin, “I am sorry for this business--but how, in the name of all that’s wonderful, did you escape after being so deuced well hung as I seed you was with, my own eyes?”

“Silence!” ejaculated Rainford, in an imperious tone: “and come with me at once down below. For, as sure as you are there, murder--a horrible murder has been committed by that wretch,” pointing to Old Death, who now quivered beneath his furious looks; “and, if you doubt it, behold the blood upon his hands!” added Tom Rain, with a cold shudder.

“Bring him along with us, Bingham,” said Dykes, addressing his brother officer.

“No--no--I won’t go down there again!” yelled forth the murderer, his countenance becoming convulsed with horror; for he was now afraid of his crime, in the revulsion of his feelings.

“Well--let him stay here in custody,” observed Dykes; “and me and a couple of the runners will go with Mr. Rainford.”

The officer and the two myrmidons whom he had selected, accordingly proceeded with Tom Rain into the room where the trap-door of the spiral stair-case had been left open by Old Death; and the constables surveyed each other with, mingled apprehension and astonishment.

“You are not afraid?” exclaimed Rainford, in a contemptuous tone, as he lighted a lamp: then, with impatient excitement, he cried, “Do your duty, and come with me. Life may still be left in her--come--come!”

“Yes--yes: we shall go along with you, sure enough,” growled Dykes, as he led the way, followed by Rainford--the two runners closing the rear.

In three minutes more the little party entered the dungeon which had so lately been the prison-house of Old Death: and there what a dreadful spectacle met their eyes! The murdered lady was stretched upon the floor--her countenance horribly discoloured and swollen--the forehead completely smashed by the blow inflicted by the lamp which had been dashed at her--and her eyes staring with a stony glare, as if about to start out of their sockets.

“O Tamar! Tamar! my dearest--best beloved Tamar!” cried Tom Rain, in a tone of bitter--bitter anguish, as he threw himself upon his knees by the side of the corpse.

The officers, rude in heart, and rendered obdurate as they were by the very nature of their profession, stood back in respectful silence at this outburst of sorrow from the lips of the resuscitated highwayman.

“My God!” murmured the unhappy man, clasping his hands together; “who shall break these fearful tidings to your father and your sister? And will they not reproach me?--will they not attribute this frightful calamity to that project of reformation which I had devised in behalf of Benjamin Bones? O Tamar--my dearest Tamar--who could have foreseen that such a terrible destiny was in store for thee!”

And, bowing down his head, he wept bitterly.

Suddenly loud voices were heard from the top of the spiral stair-case, summoning Dykes thither.

“Come along, sir--it is useless to remain here!” cried the officer, speaking hastily but respectfully to Tom Rain, who suffered himself to be led away--or rather, he did not offer any resistance to those who conducted him thence.

“Well--what now!” demanded Dykes, hurrying up the steps, at the head of which his friend Bingham was continuing to shout after him.

“Why--don’t you know,” was the reply, “that Government has offered a reward for the diskivery of the chap wot carried off Sir Christopher Blunt and Dr. Lascelles--about that there Torrens’s affair----”

“Well--what then?” cried Dykes, impatiently.

“Blowed if it ain’t Tom Rain,” responded Bingham: “he did it--and we’ve knabbed him. So that’s a cool two hundred and fifty a piece!”

“By goles!” ejaculated Dykes, his countenance expanding into the most glorious humour possible, as if all remembrance of the horrible scene he had just witnessed were banished from his mind: “this is good news, though,” he added, as he emerged from the stair-case into the little back room with which it communicated. “But how do you know that the chap as kidnapped the knight and the doctor is Mr. Rainford?”

“Because I’ve been talking with old Ben Bones,” answered Bingham; “and he told me as how he’d been kidnapped too, and kept a prisoner down there for a matter of ten weeks;--and how there was a lot on ’em--and Josh Pedler and Tim Splint among the rest. So, when he mentioned them names, I pricks up my ears--and I asks him a question or two; and I find that they was all kidnapped just at the time that the Torrens affair was a-making sich a noise: so it’s a clear case.”

“Clear enough, to be sure!” exclaimed Dykes.

“Ben Bones doesn’t seem to know any thing about that affair,” continued Dykes: “cos why, he was lugged off and took down in that there place afore the business was made public by Sir Christopher and the doctor. But, I say--what has happened below?”

“A young o’oman killed--that’s all,” answered Dykes. “So here’s a pretty day’s business for us, Bingham: a man that had been hung, took up fust--then a murder diskivered, and the murderer in our power--and now this here affair about the Government reward. Well--we’ve been rather slack lately--and a little okkipation’s quite a blessin’.”

Thus conversing together, Mr. Dykes and Mr. Bingham returned to the apartment where Old Death was still sitting in a chair, watched by a couple of constables: but the moment Rainford, who had only a confused idea, of what was passing around him, was led into that room, he started back in horror--exclaiming, “No--no: I cannot bear to be in the company of this dreadful man!”

Old Death, to whom he pointed, grinned in savage triumph: but Rainford had already rushed back into the laboratory, attended by Dykes and two runners. Almost at the same instant, the lad Cæsar who had heard from the crowd outside enough to convince him that Rainford had been discovered, and also that a person answering the description of Old Death had first denounced the resuscitated highwayman, and had then himself been arrested on a charge of murder,--Cæsar, we say, now made his appearance, and threw himself at his master’s feet, exclaiming wildly, “Oh! no--my generous friend--my more than father--they shall not take you from us!”

“Jacob,” said Tom Rain, raising the distracted youth, who was no other than the reader’s former acquaintance, Jacob Smith,--“do not yield to grief. We have need of all our courage on this occasion. I have received a frightful blow--wounded I am in the tenderest point--oh! I can scarcely restrain my anguish, while conjuring you to be calm! And yet it is necessary to meet my afflictions face to face! Hasten, then, to Finchley--and break the sad intelligence to Mr. de Medina and Esther: tell them, Jacob--as gently as you can--tell them that Benjamin Bones has crowned all his enormities by----”

“My God! it is then too true!” ejaculated the youth; covering his face with his hands.

“Yes--Tamar is no more!” added Rainford, tears gushing from his eyes. “My poor wife has been brutally--foully murdered by that miscreant!”

Jacob Smith hurried away, his own heart feeling as if it were about to break.

“And now,” said Tom Rain, suddenly turning towards Dykes, “I appeal to you as men to allow me to superintend the removal of the remains of that lady, who was my wife, to a chamber in this house; and then, that duty being performed, I shall be ready to accompany you whithersoever you may choose to conduct me.”

“We are not particular for an hour or so, Mr. Rainford,” returned Dykes. “Indeed, it would be better to let the crowd disperse a little; and if so be you don’t mind staying here a bit, we’ll wait till dark. The evenings is long now, you see----”

“I should have wished to remain here until the relatives of the deceased lady had time to arrive and take charge of the body,” interrupted Tom Rain: “but I dared not ask such a favour at your hands. As it is, however, I thank you.”

“But you must likewise let old Ben Bones stay here, until after dusk at least,” urged Dykes: “for if it was knowed to the people outside that it was the ancient fence who had killed a woman, they’d be after tearing him to pieces. So we must smuggle him out presently.”

Rainford gave his consent to the proposition: he was too sick at heart--too profoundly overwhelmed by misfortune, to attempt to argue any question that might arise from the lamentable incidents of that evening.