CHAPTER XXI.
A HOUSE OF MOURNING—THE LETTER FROM THE ENEMY—A STRANGE
CORRESPONDENCE—THE INCIDENT AT THE OPEN WINDOW—HUNSTON'S
REVENGE—DESPAIR.
It was as Jefferson had predicted.
The notices were printed and circulated everywhere by well-chosen and energetic agents.
Early next morning, a letter was found fastened to the garden gate.
It was brought to Harkaway, who was already up and busy.
He tore it eagerly open, and found the following written in a disguised handwriting and in English—
"TO Mr. JOHN HARKAWAY:
"If you would save the lives of your son and your protégé, his companion, the only way to do it is to bring the sum of five hundred pounds sterling to the stone cross by the old well at two o'clock this afternoon. Those who have the two boys in their keeping will be on the watch. Come along, as you value your happiness and their safety."
"Not very likely," said Jack Harkaway.
Instead of complying with this very shallow request, he wrote an answer in these terms:
"TO HUNSTON AND HIS FELLOW-VILLAINS:
"Send the lads back here. Within half-an-hour of their return, the money shall be sent to where you will and when you will. This I promise, and swear upon my honour. None knows better than yourself that this may be implicitly relied upon.
"HARKAWAY."
This letter he sent by a trusty messenger to the spot appointed for the meeting place, and they waited impatiently for the further result.
It was not long coming.
Before two o'clock, Marietta discovered another letter tied to the garden gate, but how it came there they were unable to decide.
Be that as it may, it was soon discovered to be of the highest importance to them in the present state of affairs.
It was brief and startling, and ran as follows—
"We do not bandy words with you. We offer our conditions. You refuse. Well and good. The consequences be upon your own head. If the money be not paid by four to-day, at six the boys will lose an ear each."
"The villains!" cried poor Harkaway. "Oh, villains!"
But he was powerless to help them.
He knew well enough that, do what he would, he could not hope to get the boys back without paying, and paying through the nose too.
Nor indeed did he desire to try to achieve this.
The only question was, would they deliver up their prisoners, once they had received the five hundred pounds?
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
If not, they would be in as much peril as they were already.
Nay, more.
He guessed shrewdly enough that once they had received such a handsome sum as five hundred pounds, they would think that they had drained him dry, or as nearly so as it was possible to arrive at, and so might make short work of young Jack and Harry Girdwood.
What was to be done?
He could not say.
He would gladly have risked all that he possessed in the world for the chance of having his boys back.
Aye, his boys, for Harry Girdwood was second only in Harkaway's affection to young Jack.
But he did not wish to reward the miscreants for ill-treating the unfortunate lads.
At length he came to the conclusion that he would persist in his resolve to have the boys back before he parted with any money at all.
Accordingly he wrote another note to the brigands.
This he dispatched by the same means as the former note.
"Release the two lads. Restore them to us, and the ransom of a king shall be yours. Fix upon any sum, however great, provided that it be within my means to pay it, and you shall not ask twice. Moreover, I shall do nothing more to molest you or interfere with you in any way. Play false, or harm a hair of my boys' heads, and beware. You may know that Jack Harkaway is not the man to make an enemy of."
The answer to this was not long in coming.
An ugly scrawl upon a dirty piece of paper, and with it was a small parcel.
"We despise your threats, and laugh you to scorn. That you may know how little we are to be trifled with, we send you their ears in proof that we have kept our word. By this hour to-morrow the two boys die, unless you pay down the sum as fixed upon by us, both in manner and in amount."
Jack Harkaway turned faint and sick.
He dared nor open the parcel which accompanied the letter.
He sent for Jefferson and Harvey, and unable to trust himself to speak, he placed the letter in the latter's hands.
"Read, read," he said, with a horror-stricken look.
Harvey glanced down the letter, and his countenance fell as he passed it on to Jefferson.
"What is to be done?"
"I don't know," replied Jefferson; "I am at a loss. This is too horrible."
"What do you say, Dick?"
Harvey hung his head.
"Speak, Dick. Tell me, old, friend, what I ought to do," said Harkaway, imploringly. "I am bewildered—dazed—at my wits' end. What ought I to do?"
"Pay the money."
Accordingly the money, all in gold, was placed in a bag in the spot which they had indicated in the first note addressed by the brigands to Jack Harkaway.
This done, they awaited the result.
It soon came.
Too soon for the latter's peace of mind.
As the family and their friends were seated in moody silence and in sorrow around the dinner-table, so strong was the sense of oppression upon everyone that they only conversed in whispers.
"The heat is really overpowering," said Mrs. Harkaway.
"Shall I open the window?"
"If you please."
He hastened to comply with her request, when at that very instant something shot past him into the room.
It fell with a clatter upon the table, and cannoned off a dish on to Jack Harkaway, striking him a rather sharp blow in the chest.
"What's that?"
"Hullo!"
"A stone."
"Yes, a stone with a paper wrapped round it."
"So it is."
"A letter, I should think," suggested Dick.
"If so," said Harkaway, smiling sadly, "it is evidently meant for me."
"You have a striking proof of that," said Dick.
Harkaway undid the paper and scanned it through.
His countenance fell as he read on.
His pale face grew pallid, and rising from his seat, he ran, or rather staggered, to the window.
"Gone!"
"What is the matter?" demanded Dick, jumping up.
"See after the man who threw this letter in," exclaimed Harkaway. "Come with me—come, come immediately!"
And with this somewhat wild exhortation, he tottered out of the room, followed by Dick.
Everybody arose from the table in confusion.
Dismay, alarm, was depicted in every face.
"What can it be?" ejaculated Mrs. Harkaway. "Oh, Mr. Jefferson, go and see, and bring me the news."
"I will. Calm yourself, my dear Mrs. Harkaway; it is very likely to be good news which thus agitates poor Jack."
Away he went.
"I fear it is the reverse," said Emily, shaking her head.
Jefferson overtook Harkaway and Dick Harvey in the gardens, where an active search was going forward after the man, or individual of either sex, who could have thrown the stone with its strange letter.
"Let me see the letter, Jack."
The latter placed it in his hand, and then, to Jefferson's horror and dismay, he found it contained the following words—
"TO HATED HARKAWAY.
"I have had years and years of patience, and my turn has come at last. As your eyes glance at these lines, your boy is vainly supplicating for mercy. Before you reach the signature at foot, your accursed brat will be dead—mark that—dead! No power on earth can save him. Had you sent the money demanded as his ransom more promptly, you could have saved him. May the knowledge of this wring your heart as you have wrung mine in bygone years.
"HUNSTON."