CHAPTER CC.

JACK RILY AND THE LAWYER’S CLERK.

It was about nine in the evening, and Mr. John Rily, _alias_ the Doctor, was seated in his chamber at the house in Roupel Street, smoking his pipe and pondering upon the best mode of disposing of the Bank-notes that were in his possession.

He had seen by the newspapers that his late companion, Mrs. Mortimer, had died from the effects of the terrible punishment inflicted upon her by Vitriol Bob: but he had not observed any advertisement proclaiming the notes that had been derived from the forgery;--and the journals were likewise silent respecting the forgery itself.

The Doctor accordingly concluded that the fraud remained undetected, and that the legitimate cheque had not been presented; and as several days had now elapsed since the notes had found their way into his possession, he began seriously to meditate how he could convert them into gold.

It may seem a singular thing to some that a man having in his possession sixty thousand pounds’ _worth_, was at a loss for the means to realise the amount: but such is often the predicament in which thieves are placed.

For thus stood the matter in respect to Jack Rily:--If he were to take a quantity of the notes to the Bank of England, his appearance might be so much against him as to excite suspicion: for he was not endowed with vanity sufficient to blind his eyes to the fact that his outward aspect was of the most villanously hang-dog description it was possible to conceive. Besides, he was not certain that the notes might not have been privately stopped. Again, if he applied to the “fences” and receivers of stolen property with whom he was acquainted, he knew that they could not cash more than two or three thousand pounds’ worth of the notes; and in doing even this much, they might mulct him of one-half the value. Besides, they were only to be trusted by men in such desperate circumstances as to leave no other alternative: whereas the Doctor had plenty of gold remaining from his share of the plunder derived from the adventure in the Haunted Houses. Lastly in the catalogue of difficulties now enumerated, Jack Rily had heard from a friend so much of the galleys in France, that he did not at all relish the idea of repairing to that country and standing the chance of visiting those places by attempting to pass notes concerning which private information might have been sent, for any thing he knew to the contrary, to the various money-changers.

All these considerations were occupying the Doctor’s thoughts on the evening alluded to; when his landlord entered to acquaint him that a gentleman named Green desired to speak to him.

“Ah! my old school-pal!” ejaculated Rily, joyfully: “show him up by all means!”

And during the short interval which elapsed ere the attorney’s clerk made his appearance, the Doctor placed the brandy-bottle, a couple of tumblers, and a clean pipe upon the table.

By the time these preparations were completed, Mr. Green entered the room, and was received with the familiarity of a long-standing acquaintance.

“Well, it is quite an age since I saw you last!” exclaimed the Doctor, as soon as his visitor was seated. “What have you been doing with yourself? Still drudging on at old Heathcote’s?”

“Just the same--or rather worse,” was the reply.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” observed the Doctor. “Come, help yourself. But how came you to find me out in my new quarters?”

“I was passing by here yesterday to serve a writ upon a poor devil in this street,” answered Mr. Green, “and I twigged you at the window. You didn’t see me: but I made up my mind to give you a call--and so here I am.”

“And I feel devilish glad to see you,” responded Jack Rily. “You may observe that my circumstances have improved a trifle or so, of late.”

“Ah! I wish to heaven that _mine_ would show any proof of amendment,” said Green, with a profound sigh, as he helped himself to a tumbler of brandy-and-water. “I made a couple of hundred pounds the other day--it was an affair of giving information about a lunatic-asylum in which Heathcote had locked up his own brother;--and because I treated myself to this new suit of clothes,” he added, glancing down at his dress, “the old villain declared that I must have robbed him to procure the money. Oh! how I long to be revenged on that man!”

“Well, I don’t suppose it’s so very difficult,” observed Rily: “at least I should think, from all you have told me at different times, that you know enough about him to make him quake in his shoes.”

“Yes--yes--but--then,” stammered the clerk, with the hesitation of one who longs to open his heart to another, yet shrinks from the avowal of a villany even to the ears of a villain.

“But what?” demanded the Doctor, relighting his pipe. “If you’ve come to consult me, then out with everything at once. Do nothing by halves, old fellow--I never do.”

“Well, you see--the truth is--that--I--I am in the man’s power--completely in his power,” responded Green: “and now he’s making my life so wretched--oh! so wretched, that I think of running away to America with my two hundred pounds. But then I know that he would move heaven and earth to find me out; he would advertise me--give a description of my person--swear that I had robbed him, or something of that kind;--anything, indeed, would he do to revenge himself upon me. He is one of those despicable characters that cherish the bitterest--the most fiend-like malignity.”

“And what is he doing to you now?” demanded Jack, smoking his pipe at his ease while his friend was thus pouring forth his complaints.

“What doesn’t he do, you should rather ask me,” exclaimed Green, in a tone of mingled rage, hate, and despair. “As I just now told you, he put his brother Sir Gilbert into a lunatic asylum, in the hope of getting into his own hands the management of all the baronet’s property--and doubtless in the expectation likewise that grief would send the unfortunate gentleman to his last home. Well, Sir Gilbert escaped----”

“Through your connivance, eh?” interrupted the Doctor, with a knowing chuckle.

“Yes--with my connivance,” responded Green; “and it is the suspicion of this fact that makes Heathcote so intolerable in his conduct towards me. Besides, seeing me with a new suit of clothes, he swore that if I had not robbed him I must have been bribed to give information relative to the place where his brother was confined. It was all in vain that I reminded him of my salary being quite sufficient to keep me in decent attire----”

“Why, don’t you see,” again interrupted the Doctor,--“when once a man has got a certain suspicion into his head, he won’t very easily part with it. He cherishes it--feeds upon it--sleeps upon it--dreams of it, just as a young girl does of her first love.”

“I suppose that this must be the case,” said Green. “At all events, I have been made so miserable by Heathcote for the last few days, that it was like a ray of hope when I saw you at the window of this room yesterday; and I determined to come and chat with you over the matter.”

“And yet I don’t see very well how I can assist you, since you declare that you are completely in Heathcote’s power,” observed Jack Rily. “But you must tell me every thing.”

“Well--there’s no use in denying, then, that Heathcote can transport me if he chooses,” said Green. “Some years ago I--I--committed--a--a forgery----”

“Oh! that’s nothing,” exclaimed Jack, assuming a consolatory tone. “But go on.”

“Nothing do you call it!” cried the clerk, looking apprehensively around him, as if he were fearful that the very walls had ears. “In a month’s time a thousand pounds must be forthcoming--or I shall be transported. Up to this time Heathcote has all along given me to understand that he will replace the money for me: but this business of his brother’s escape and two or three other matters that have gone wrong with him lately----”

“I understand you,” said Jack Rily: “they have put the kyebosh upon it.”

“The what?” demanded Green, unskilled in slang phrases.

“Put a stopper on the affair, I mean,” explained the Doctor, whom an idea had struck while his companion was talking; and this idea was that Mr. Green might be made instrumental in procuring cash for a considerable portion of the Bank-notes.

“I am indeed afraid that Heathcote will not assist me,” pursued the wretched clerk; “and if he does not, I cannot say what will become of me. In fact there is no use in buoying myself up with the hope that Heathcote _will_ do any thing for me: he himself has lost money lately in several ways--and moreover his temper is terribly soured by this affair about his brother.”

“Is Sir Gilbert taking steps to punish him, then?” asked Jack.

“Oh! no--he is too generous and too forgiving in his disposition,” replied Green: “but he has compelled the two surgeons who signed the certificate of insanity, to give him a counter-declaration--and indeed a confession to the effect that they were bribed to sign the document on the strength of which he was placed in the mad-house. There is consequently the danger of all this becoming known; and Heathcote, finding his reputation to be hanging by a thread, has grown as it were desperate,--not caring what may happen to himself--still less what may befall _me_.”

“I should think, then, that if you had a thousand pounds, you would fancy yourself a very lucky fellow, and be able to defy Heathcote altogether,” observed Jack Rily.

“I would give the last ten years of my life to reach such happiness,” said the clerk. “But it is useless--vain to hope--”

“Will you give a few hours of your time and a little of your ingenuity?” demanded the Doctor, now fixing upon him a look full of deep and mysterious meaning.

“Do not banter me--do not make a jest of my misfortune,” exclaimed Green.

“By Satan! I never was more serious in my life,” returned the Doctor. “Nay--you may stare at me as you will: but the thousand pounds are nearer within your reach than you fancy--and you might still keep your two hundred pounds for your own purposes.”

“Pray explain yourself!” cried the clerk, not daring to yield to the hope which suddenly appeared to rise up before him. “Keep me not in suspense, I conjure you! Can you do anything for me?--can you put me into the way----”

“Yes--I can,” answered the Doctor, emphatically. “And now you may as well tell me candidly that you thought I _might_ be able to assist you, when you resolved upon calling here. Because, since we were at school together--which is many long years ago--our paths in life have been so different, that it is not very likely you would have honoured me by your company without some pressing motive.”

“You must at the same time admit that whenever I have met you, I have always spoken civilly to you--and sometimes stood treat,” added Green, diffidently.

“Once or twice,” observed Jack. “But that don’t matter one way or the other. I asked you a question: and before I open my mind any farther----”

“Well--I candidly admit, then,” interrupted Green, wishing to bring the matter to the point as speedily as possible--“I candidly admit that I _did_ hope you could help me in some way or another. But it was only the hope of a desperate man: for as to the idea that you could assist me to eight hundred or a thousand pounds, it would have been insane to harbour it even for an instant. To speak more frankly still, I almost thought of asking you to let me join you in your own way of life, although I hardly know what your pursuits positively are.”

“They require courage and firmness, at all events,” answered Jack Rily, with a coarse laugh; “whereas you have got into such cursed cringing, bowing, and scraping ways, that you are only fit for a toad-eater. Excuse me for speaking frankly--but as we are talking on matters of business----”

“Quite correct,” interrupted Green, swallowing his resentment: for he felt but little pleased at the home-truth which had just been told him. “And now for the information which is to relieve me from such cruel suspense.”

“First answer me one or two questions,” said the Doctor. “I suppose you are often in the habit of changing Bank-notes for your master?”

“Yes: but not to any considerable amount at a time,” answered Green: “he is too suspicious to trust me with a sum sufficiently large to tempt me to run away with it.”

“Nevertheless, I suppose you could manage to change a few heavy notes, if you had them?” pursued the Doctor.

“Heavy notes?” repeated Green, turning pale and trembling. “Are they--fo--or--ged?”

“Not they!” exclaimed Rily, half disgusted with his timorous companion. “They are genuine Bank of England flimsies: but as they didn’t come into my hands in a very regular manner, and as my appearance isn’t altogether in my favour, I can’t pass them myself.”

“Oh! I--I--can get cash for them,” said Green, with all the eagerness of a man in a desperate predicament. “Heathcote’s bankers would do me as many as you can possibly have.”

“I question it,” observed the Doctor, drily. “Would they cash you two notes for a thousand each?”

“Yes--yes: assuredly they would,” was the prompt answer.

“And you must know other places----”

“Several--several,” interrupted Green, anticipating the remainder of the questions. “But would it not be shorter to go to the Bank of England at once?”

“Well--I think it would,” responded Jack.

“Unless--unless--there’s any fear--any danger, I mean--I----”

“Curse upon your fears and dangers!” ejaculated the hare-lipped villain, savagely: “there are none at all--only, as I just now said, I can’t go myself. But if you can get ten thousand changed to-morrow, you may have one thousand for your own purposes.”

Mr. Green could not find words to express his gratitude in return for this assurance: he was overwhelmed with a delight which he had not experienced for years. The thought of emancipating himself from the thraldom of his despot-master was too brilliant--too dazzling to gaze upon. He could not believe that there was anything beyond a mere chance in his favour:--that the matter was a certainty, he dared not imagine.

But when Jack Rily displayed a few of the notes, and mysteriously hinted that they were the produce of a forgery which could not possibly be detected, Mr. Green started from his chair, and actually danced for joy!