The Mysteries of London. George W. M. Reynolds
bed, raised the window, and looked forth. The night was now pitch dark; and he could distinguish nothing. Not even were the outlines of the trees in the garden discernible amidst that profound and dense obscurity. Markham held his breath; and the whispering of voices met his ears. He could not, however, distinguish a word they uttered:—a low hissing continuous murmur, the nature of which it was impossible to mistake, convinced him that some persons were talking together immediately beneath his window. In a few moments the jarring of a door or shutter, which he had before heard, was repeated; and then the whispering ceased.
By this time his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness; and he could now faintly discern the outlines of three human forms standing together at the back door of the house. He could not, however, distinguish the precise nature of their present employment. It was, nevertheless, evident to him that they were not there with any honest intention in view; and he resolved to adopt immediate measures to defeat their burglarious schemes. He hastily threw on his clothes, struck a light, and issued from his room.
Cautiously advancing along a passage was the count, only half-dressed, with a pistol in each hand and a cutlass under his arm.
"This is fortunate!" whispered the count: "I was coming to alarm you: there are thieves breaking in. You and I can manage them; it is of no use to call Bounce or Dapper. Take this cutlass, and let us descend gently. Here come the men-servants."
The count hurried down stairs, followed by Markham, and the three male domestics of the household.
A noise was heard in the pantry, which was situate at the back of the house on the same level with the hall.
"Douse the darkey, blow the glim, and mizzle," cried a hoarse gruff voice, as the count, Richard, and the servants approached the pantry: "there's five on 'em—it's no use——"
The count rushed forward, and burst open the door of the pantry, closely followed by Markham, holding the candle.
Two of the burglars made a desperate push down the kitchen stairs and escaped: the third was captured in an attempt to follow his companions.
The light of the candle fell upon the villain's countenance, which was literally ghastly with a mingled expression of rage and alarm.
Richard shuddered: for the captured burglar was no other than the Resurrection Man.
"Wretch!" exclaimed Markham, recovering his self-command: "the law will at length reach you."
"What! do you know this fellow?" demanded the count, somewhat surprised by the observation.
"Know me!" cried the Resurrection Man: "of course he does. But supposing someone was to tell you a piece of valuable information, count—about a matter closely concerning yourself and family—would you be inclined to be merciful?"
"Of what nature is that information? It must be very valuable indeed, if you think that I will enter into any compromise with such as you."
"Pledge me your word that you will let me go scot free, and I will tell you something that concerns the peace and happiness—perhaps the honour of your daughter."
"Miscreant!" cried Markham: "profane not that lady by even alluding to her!"
"Stay—curse the fellow's impudence," said the count: "perhaps he may really have somewhat worth communicating. At all events, I will try him. Now, then, my man, what is it that you have to say? If your statement be worth hearing, I swear that I will neither molest you, nor suffer you to be molested."
"Hold, count," exclaimed Markham: "make no rash vow—you know not what a wretch——"
"Silence, my dear friend," said the count authoritatively: "I will hear the man, let him be who or what he may!"
"And you will do well to hear me, sir," continued the Resurrection Man. "You harbour a villain in your house; and that villain is now before you. He boasts of having secured the affections of your daughter, and hopes to gull you into allowing him to marry her."
"Miscreant—murderer!" exclaimed Markham, no longer able to contain his indignation: "pollute not innocence itself by these allusions to a lady whose spotless mind——"
"Hush!" said the count. "Let us hear patiently all this man has to say. I can soon judge whether he be speaking the truth; and if he deceives me, I will show him no mercy."
"But, count—allow me one word—I myself will unfold——"
"Excuse me, Markham," interrupted the Italian noble, with dignified firmness: "I will hear this man first. Proceed!"
"The villain I allude to is of course that Markham," continued the Resurrection Man. "It was him, too, that induced me and my pals, the Cracksman and the Buffer, to make this attempt upon your house to-night."
"What foul—what hideous calumny is this!" almost screamed the distracted Markham, as this totally unexpected and unfounded accusation met his ears.
The count himself was shocked at this announcement; for he suddenly recollected Richard's moody, embarrassed, and thoughtful manner the whole evening, and his sudden intention of departing the next day.
"Go on," said the count.
"I met that man," continued the body-snatcher, pointing contemptuously towards Markham, "a little more than a fortnight ago in this neighbourhood: he was walking with your daughter; and it was in consequence of certain little arrangements with me that he went back to London next day. Oh! I am well acquainted with all his movements."
"And you sought my life in a manner the most base——" began Markham, unable to restrain his feelings.
"Silence, Markham!" exclaimed the count, still more authoritatively than before. "Your time to speak will come."
"We planned this work while he was in London," continued the Resurrection Man; "and this very evening he told me over the garden wall that all was right."
"Merciful God!" cried the count: "this is but too true!"
"Yes, sir—I certainly spoke to him," said Richard—"and from the garden too——"
"Mr. Markham, this continued interruption is indecent," exclaimed the count emphatically, while a cold perspiration burst out upon his forehead; for he had recalled to mind the incident respecting the garden.
"I have little more to add, count," said the Resurrection Man. "This Markham told me that you had plenty of plate and money always in the house; and as he had lost nearly all his property, he should not be displeased at an opportunity of getting hold of a little swag. It was agreed that we should meet in London to arrange the business; and so we did meet at the Dark House in Brick Lane, where we settled the affair along with the Cracksman and the Buffer, who have just made off. This is all I have to say—unless it is that me and your friend Markham first got acquainted in Newgate——"
"Newgate!" ejaculated the count, with a thrill of horror.
"Yes—Newgate; where he was waiting to be tried for forgery, for which he got two years in the Compter. And that's all. Let him deny it if he can."
Scarcely were these terrible words uttered by the Resurrection Man, when a loud—long—and piercing scream was heard, coming from the direction of the staircase; and then some object instantly fell with violence upon the marble floor of the hall.
"Isabella! Isabella!" ejaculated Markham, turning hastily round to hurry to her assistance.
"Stop, sir—seek not my daughter," cried the count, in a stern voice, as he caught Richard's arm and held him back. "Let not a soul stir until my return!"
There was a noble and dignified air of command about Count Alteroni, as he uttered these words, which could not escape the notice of Richard Markham, even amidst the crushing and overwhelming circumstances that surrounded him.
The count took the