  It was Saturday evening; and Rainford was proceeding up Gray's Inn Lane, wrapped in his white great coat, and with a woollen "comforter" reaching up almost to his nose, when he suddenly felt some one pull him by the sleeve. He turned round, and, by the light of a lamp, beheld the lad Jacob. "Well, you young rascal!" exclaimed Tom—but with an anger more affected than real, for he was not a man to cherish vindictive feelings towards an enemy so utterly unworthy his resentment as that pale, weak, and sickly boy: "I wonder you have the face to accost me, after joining in that abominable scheme to intrude upon the privacy of my dwelling three or four nights ago." "I hope you will forgive me, Mr. Rainford," said the lad: "for you must know," added he emphatically, "it wasn't altogether my fault. I was bound to obey the man who gave me food. But do you know, sir, what has become of him? Oh! Mr. Rainford—I am well aware that he did deserve punishment at your hands; but—pray forgive me—I hope——" "You hope that I did not kill him?" said the highwayman in a deep, hollow-toned voice. "Why—do you suppose that I am a likely person to commit murder—intentionally?" "Oh! no—no," replied the boy. "And yet——" "And yet what?" asked Rainford. "And yet it is so strange that he should never have been seen at any of his usual haunts," added Jacob. "Come along with me," said Rainford abruptly. "We cannot stand talking in the street—and I want to have some conversation with you. But do you know any place close at hand—any public-house, I mean—where we could have a private room for an hour or so?" "Yes, sir," replied Jacob, after a moment's reflection. "This way." He turned abruptly down into a narrow, dark, dirty thoroughfare, called Baldwin's Gardens, and conducted the highwayman into a low public-house, where, upon inquiry, they were immediately accommodated, with a private room on the second floor. Rainford ordered the fire to be lighted and a bottle of wine to be brought up; and when these instructions were complied with, he renewed the conversation with Jacob. "And so nothing has been heard of Old Death?" he said, in as tranquil a manner as he could assume. "Nothing," replied Jacob. "A man named Josh Pedler called at Bunce's this morning early, and wanted to see Mr. Bones, on account of a thief, known as Tim the Snammer, who was to go up before the magistrate to-day; and it appears that Mr. Bones had promised to get him off. Pedler was in a dreadful way when he heard that we hadn't seen any thing of the old man for two or three days; and he swore that it was all a hoax, and that Bones wanted to stick to the money that had been paid him, and shirk the job. Then comes a girl about an hour afterwards; and she said she was Tim the Snammer's wife—Mutton-faced Sal they call her;—and a deuce of a rumpus she made also." "Do you know a person called Tidmarsh?" demanded Rainford, after a few moments' reflection—for he was anxious to learn if the boy were acquainted with the establishments in Turnmill and Red Lion Streets. "I know him by name very well—and that's all," replied Jacob. "He is a fence, and lives somewhere in Clerkenwell. But pray tell me, Mr. Rainford, if you know what has become of the old man." "I can tell you nothing about him, my boy," said the highwayman. "Surely he was not so very kind to you——" "He kind! Oh! no—far from that!" cried Jacob, in a tone of evident sincerity. "But I was so dependant on him, that—unless I turn thief again—as I once was——" He stopped short, and burst into tears. "My poor lad," said Tom Rain, affected by this ebullition of grief on the part of the wretched boy, "if you are afraid of wanting bread, you may banish those alarms—at least for the present." And he threw a handful of sovereigns upon the table. "Are these for me?" cried Jacob, scarcely able to believe his eyes. "Yes—every one of them," answered the highwayman. "But on this condition—that you tell me how Old Death discovered my late abode in Lock's Fields, and what was his object in entering it along with you and that sneaking fellow, Toby Bunce." "I will tell you all—everything I know, Mr. Rainford," exclaimed Jacob. "But," he added slowly, "you will find that I do not deserve this kindness at your hands." "I can scarcely blame you for obeying the person on whom you were dependant," said the highwayman. "Come—gather up the money, and make haste with your information." As Jacob secured the gold about his person, his dark eyes were lighted up, and his cheeks were flushed with a glow of animation. "I can tell you much more than you suppose, Mr. Rainford," he resumed in a few moments; "and if I begin at the proper place, what I have to say will go farther back than the affair the other night in Lock's Fields." "Then begin with the beginning, Jacob," said Tom, lighting a cigar. "There—drink another glass of wine; and now fire away. But mind and tell me nothing save the truth; for I shall soon see if you are deceiving me." "I won't deceive you, Mr. Rainford," cried the boy; "and will soon convince you that I am in earnest. Besides, it is my interest to make a friend of you—even if it wasn't my inclination. And now to begin. You remember the morning you was had up at Bow Street? Well—Old Death had told me to watch you when you came out of Tullock's—to dog you about—to find out where you lived and any thing else I could glean concerning you." "What was that for?" demanded Tom. "He did not tell me then," answered Jacob; "but I have ascertained since—and you will be able to guess by and bye. Well, I did follow you that morning—I saw you nabbed by Dykes, the runner—and I went up to Bunce's to tell Old Death what had happened. Then he cut off to Watkins and Bertinshaw, who came and bailed you. I was "And you duly made your report to Old Death?" said Tom inquiringly. "Of course," replied Jacob. "Two or three days afterwards I was set to watch you again, when you left Bunce's one afternoon; and I followed you down to an eating-house in the Strand. You stayed there about two hours; and at length you came out with a tall, handsome young gentleman——" "Ah! I recollect!" cried the highwayman: "it was Clarence Villiers. But go on, my boy." "I only mention all these little things to convince you that I am telling the exact truth," said Jacob. "Well—from the Strand I followed you and the gentleman as far as Bridge Street, Blackfriars, where you parted. I dogged you, Mr. Rainford, over to the Elephant and Castle Tavern, where you met a lady and the little boy——" "Yes—Charley Watts!" ejaculated the highwayman, gradually becoming more interested in Jacob Smith's narrative, because each successive step thereof afforded fresh evidence of its truth. "You joined the lady and the little boy," continued Jacob; "and when you all stopped for a short time at the window of a jeweller's shop, the lady lifted up her veil—and I knew her again." "Ah!" cried Tom, with a sudden start. "Yes, sir,—I recognised Miss Esther de Medina——But are you angry, sir? have I said anything to offend you?" "No—no, Jacob," returned the highwayman, the cloud which had gathered upon his countenance suddenly disappearing. "Go on, my boy." "Then I saw you take the lady and the little boy into the shop, and you bought a pair of ear-rings, which you gave to the lady; and as you came out again, I heard you say to her, 'This present is a kind of recompense for the diamonds which I made you give up,'—or something to the same meaning." "Yes—I remember that I did make use of those or similar words!" cried Rainford. "But how the deuce did it happen that I never once caught a glimpse of you?" "Oh! sir—I acted with so much caution," replied "True!" said Tom thoughtfully. "And of course you reported all this to Old Death?" "I followed you on to Lock's Fields, and then returned to Seven Dials, where I told Mr. Bones and Mrs. Bunce all I had seen and heard." "And what did they say? Tell me every thing, Jacob," exclaimed the highwayman. "They seemed very much surprised to think that you and Miss Esther were intimate together——" Jacob suddenly paused—for again did a dark cloud overspread Tom Rain's countenance. "Go on, Jacob," he said, observing that the lad was alarmed. "I am subject to a sudden pain——but it is nothing at all. Go on, I say. You were telling me that Old Death and that disgusting woman, Mrs. Bunce, were very much astonished at a certain circumstance. Well—and what did they say?" "They asked me whether either you, sir, or the lady took any little thing—when the jeweller's back was turned," replied Jacob, timidly; "but I assured them that you did not." A scornful smile curled the highwayman's lips and then he puffed away violently at his cigar—apparently wrapped in deep reflection. "Shall I tell you any more, sir?" asked Jacob, when a few minutes of profound silence had elapsed. "Yes, my boy: go on!" cried Tom, turning towards him again. "The very next night," resumed Jacob, "Mr. Bones and me were walking down Southampton Row, Russell Square, you know—when I observed Miss Esther de Medina in a shop——" "Where there was a post-office?" ejaculated the highwayman, hastily. "Just so, sir. And she was reading a letter," continued Jacob. "Then me and Old Death followed her down to another post-office—it was in Holborn—where she posted a letter which she had with her. I crept close up to her and saw the address on it just before she dropped it into the box." "And what was that address?" demanded Rainford. "T. R., No. 5, Brandon Street, Lock's Fields," was the answer. "And you of course told that to Old Death?" "Yes—and he desired me to follow the lady to see where she lived; which I did, and traced her to Great Ormond Street. Then I went back to Bunce's, and acquainted Mr. Bones with this fact also. He was very much pleased; and soon afterwards you came in. He then told you about going to Shooter's Hill to stop a tradesman and his wife; but I afterwards found out that it was only a gag to get you out of the way next night." "Ah! I thought as much!" cried Rainford. "And now, I suppose, we come to the visit which Mr. Bones, Toby Bunce, and yourself paid to my lodgings?" "Exactly so," said Jacob. "Early the next morning I was ordered by Old Death to post myself all day long in Great Ormond Street, and see that Miss Esther didn't go out. I kept watch, and saw her several times at the window just for a moment: so I knew she was at home. In the evening Old Death and Mr. Bunce came and fetched me, and we went over to a public-house opposite your lodgings in Brandon Street. On the way I learnt what they meant to do; for it was to carry off the boy——" "Poor little Charley Watts!" ejaculated Rainford, totally unprepared for this announcement. "But what harm had he done to them? or what could they want with him?" "I don't exactly know, sir," replied Jacob. "Indeed, I don't think Toby Bunce knew himself. But I can't help thinking that it was somehow or another connected with a certain letter which Old Death let fall, and which I picked up and kept. It bears the signature of Sarah Watts——" "The poor woman who died at Bunce's house!" cried the highwayman. "Where is that letter?" "Here, sir," answered Jacob; and with these words he produced the document from his pocket, and handed it to Tom Rain. The highwayman hastened to peruse it with the greatest interest and attention; but he was evidently disappointed when he perceived that it afforded no clue to the person to whom it was originally intended to be sent. "I shall keep this letter, Jacob," he said, after some minutes of profound reflection. "Do so, Mr. Rainford," returned the lad. "And now you see that I am acting sincerely with you." "Quite," remarked the highwayman, in an absent manner; for he suddenly remembered the circumstance of Old Death declaring that he had lost a particular letter on the memorable night which was marked with so many strange occurrences. "Yes, Jacob," he continued, after a long pause, "you are right. It must have been in connexion with this letter that the old man wanted to carry off the boy. Perhaps he had discovered some clue to unravel the mystery of Charley's birth, and meant to turn the secret to his own advantage? But, if so, he must have had some better trace than this letter, which certainly says a great deal, and yet leaves the one grand point—who Charley's mother really is—in complete darkness! However," added Tom, who had been musing aloud, rather than addressing his remarks to Jacob, "time will perhaps clear up all." "You see, sir," continued Jacob, "I was set to watch in Great Ormond Street to find out whether Miss Esther went over to you——" "To me!" ejaculated Rainford, as if taken by surprise. "But—go on, my boy—go on!" And as I knew that she was at home when Old Death and Toby Bunce came to join me there," pursued the lad, "we of course thought it was all right. You may, therefore, judge how Old Death and me were surprised, when we went up into the bed-room at your lodgings——" "Enough of that, Jacob!" cried Rainford, starting uneasily. "And now tell me why Old Death seemed so anxious all along to find out every thing he could about me?" "Lord! sir, can't you guess?" exclaimed the boy. "He knew that you could be useful to him, and he wanted to get you completely into his power. By knowing all that concerned you, he——" "I understand, Jacob," again interrupted the highwayman; "and it is just as I suspected. You are a good lad for telling me all this—and I will not leave you to want—in case," he added hastily, "your old master should not happen to turn up again. But I do not think I shall stay many days in London, Jacob. However, I will see you again shortly—and "Not all, sir—unless Mrs. Bunce found it about the poor woman who died the other night at her house." "That is what I suspect," observed Rainford. "Indeed, it must have been so. The deceitful woman!—after my paying her so handsomely, to keep back the document! But it has found its way to my pocket at last, in spite of her and Old Death. And now, Jacob, tell me about yourself. How long have you been in the service of Mr. Benjamin Bones?" "I wish you had time sir," said the boy, "to listen to my story: it would be a relief to me to tell it—for I already feel towards you as I never felt to any one before. Indeed, I was sorry to be employed against you in any way: but I couldn't help myself. I remember the evening that I watched you over to Lock's Fields:—I was so moved—I hardly can describe how—at seeing that little boy Charley with you; for I thought how good you were towards him, and what an excellent heart you must have,—and when I got back to Bunce's, I couldn't pluck up courage to tell Old Death any thing about you, for fear he might mean you some injury. However," added Jacob, wiping his eyes, "he did get it all out of me at last——" "Never mind, my lad," interrupted Rainford, moved by Jacob's contrition: "all you have told me this evening has fully atoned for the mischief you previously did me. Besides, as I before said, you were forced to obey your master. And now," he added, after referring to his handsome gold repeater, "I don't mind if I sit another hour with you here; and while I smoke my cigar, you shall tell me the history of your life." "I will, sir," exclaimed the boy, eagerly. "But I warn you beforehand it is a long one—that is, if I tell it as I should like to do." "Tell it in your own way, my boy," cried Rainford; "and never mind the length." The highwayman settled himself in a comfortable manner in his chair; and Jacob proceeded to relate the history of his life. |
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