The Mysteries of London. George W. M. Reynolds
continued the Resurrection Man, after a pause, during which he imbibed a considerable quantity of the exhilarating fluid in his glass—"don't you see that I was too old a bird not to be always prepared for such an event as that which happened at last? I had got together a great quantity of gunpowder in the back-room of the crib, and had stowed it away in brown paper parcels in a cupboard. This cupboard stood between the fire-place and the back wall of the house. So I had made a hole through the wall, and had introduced a long iron pipe into the cupboard. This pipe was ten or twelve feet in length, and ran all along the wall that divided my yard from the next. The pipe, so placed, was protected by a wooden cover or case; and any one who saw it, must have thought it was only a water-pipe. It was, however, filled with excellent gunpowder, and there was nothing to do but to put a match to the farthest end of the pipe to blow up the whole place."
"Capital contrivance!" exclaimed the Rattlesnake. "Had you put up that pipe long before the police broke into the house?"
"Oh! yes—some months," answered the Resurrection Man; "and very lucky it was, too, that the pipe was water-tight, so that the rain had never moistened the powder in the least. Well, when the blue-bottles broke in, I rushed into the back-room, locked the door, leapt through the window, flew to the end of the pipe, tore out the plug, applied the match, and in a moment all was over."
"And for a long time even your old pals at the Boozing-ken on Saffron Hill, fancied you had been blown up with the rest," said the Rattlesnake.
"Of course they did, because the newspapers, which you always used to go and fetch me to read, said there was no doubt that every one of the gang in the house at the time had perished."
"And they also spoke of the way in which the police had followed you and the Cracksman to the house," said the Rattlesnake.
"Yes—and that was how I came to learn that the man who had hunted me almost to death, was Richard Markham," exclaimed the Resurrection Man, his countenance suddenly wearing an expression of such concentrated—vile—malignant rage, as to render him perfectly hideous.
"Now don't begin to brood over that," cried the Rattlesnake hastily; "for I am almost afraid of you when you get into one of those humours, dear Tony."
"No—I shan't give way now," said the villain: "I have prepared the means for revenge; and then I shall be happy. Ah! Meg, you cannot conceive how I gloated over the wretch the other night when I denounced him in the theatre! That man has been the means of making me stay in this infernal prison—for it has been nothing better—for weeks and months; he was the cause of the loss of my best friend, the Cracksman, and of my old mother, who was very useful in her way: and he prevented me from getting that young fellow into my power, who went and explored the Palace. When I think of all that I have suffered through this infernal Richard Markham, I am ready to go mad;—and I should have gone mad, too, if it hadn't been that I always thought the day of vengeance would come!"
"And my little attentions helped to console you Tony," said the Rattlesnake, in a wheedling manner that seemed peculiar to her.
"Oh! as for that, Meg, a man like me can be consoled by nothing short of revenge in such a case. I have told you the history of my life over and over again; and I think you must have learnt from it, that I am not a person to put up with an injury. I have often thought of doing to Markham as I did to the justice of the peace and the baronet—setting his house on fire; but then he might not learn who was the incendiary, or he might even think that it was an accident. My object is for him to know who strikes him, that he may writhe the more."
"And do you think that the Buffer and Moll are to be depended upon?" asked Margaret Flathers.
"To the back-bone," replied the Resurrection Man. "How could the Buffer possibly betray me, when he was one of the gang, as the newspapers called it? Besides, wasn't he laid by the heels in Clerkenwell Gaol for making away with the bantling to cheat the Burying Society? and didn't he escape? How could he go and place himself in contact with the police by giving information against me? And what good would it be to him to deceive me? He knows that I have got plenty of tin, and can pay him well. Indeed, how has he lived in the Happy Valley for the last eleven months and more, since he escaped out of Clerkenwell? Haven't I been as good as a brother to him, and lent him money over and over again?"
"Very true," said the Rattlesnake. "I only spoke on your account."
"I shall be able to let the Buffer in for several good things, now that I am determined to commence an active life again," continued the Resurrection Man. "I have been idle quite long enough; and I am not going to remain so any more. Why, Greenwood alone ought to be as good as an annuity to me. He can always find employment for a skilful and daring fellow like me."
"And he pays like a prince, doesn't he?" demanded the Rattlesnake.
"Like a prince," repeated the Resurrection Man. "Five guineas the other night for just attending the carrying off of the young actress. That is the way to make money, Meg."
"And you have got plenty, Tony, I know?" said the woman, in a tone more than half interrogatively, and only partially expressing a conviction.
"What's that to you?" cried the Resurrection Man, brutally; at the same time eyeing his mistress in a somewhat suspicious manner.
"Oh! only because you needn't have any secrets from me, Tony," returned the Rattlesnake, affecting a tone of indifference. "You have been out every night lately—and only for a short time—"
"Now I tell you what it is, Meg," exclaimed Tidkins, striking his fist upon the table, "you have asked me about my money a great many times lately; and I tell you very candidly, I don't like it. It looks suspicious; but, by heavens! if you attempt to play me false—"
"Why should you say that, Tony? Have I not given you every proof of fidelity?"
"Yes—you have; or else I should have known what to do in a very few moments. But why do you bother yourself about the money that I have got? It is very little, I can tell you; but where it is, it's safe enough; and if I ever catch you attempting to follow me or spy upon me when I go into the rooms down stairs, I'll make you repent it."
"Now, Tony dear, don't put yourself into a passion," said the Rattlesnake, turning pale, and assuming her usual wheedling tone: "I didn't mean to annoy you. All that I wanted to know was whether there was a chance of running short or not."
"Don't frighten yourself, Meg," returned the Resurrection Man. "Whenever I run low, I know how to get more. And now, that we mayn't have to talk upon this subject again, recollect once for all that I won't have you prying into any thing that I choose to keep to myself. You know that I am not a man to be trifled with; and if any one was to betray me—I don't mean to say that you ever had such an idea—I only mean you to understand that if anybody did—"
"Well—what?" said the Rattlesnake in a tone of alarm.
"I would not be taken alive," added the Resurrection Man; "and those who came to take me at all, would probably travel the same road that the police, the Cracksman, and the Mummy have gone already."
"Tony," exclaimed the woman, a deadly pallor overspreading her countenance, "you don't mean to say that this house is provided with a pipe like the one—"
"I don't mean to say any thing at all about it, one way or another," interrupted the Resurrection Man coolly. "All I want you to do is to remain quiet—attend to my wishes—keep a close tongue in your head—and have no eyes for any thing that I don't tell you to look at—and then we shall go on as pleasant as before. Otherwise—"
At this moment a knock at the street door was heard.
The Rattlesnake hastened to answer the summons, and returned accompanied by the Buffer and his wife.
CHAPTER XCVIII.
DARK PLOTS AND SCHEMES.
THE