CHAPTER LVI — RETRIBUTION
“Fell retribution, like a sleuth-hound, still
The footsteps of the wicked sternly tracks,
And in his mad career o'ertaking him,
Brings, when he least expects it, swift destruction,
And with a bitter, mocking justice, marks
Each sin that did most easily beset him.
The eye that spared not woman in its lust,
Glaring with maniac terror, sinks in death.
The homicidal hand, whose fiendish skill
Made man its victim, crushed and bleeding lies.
The crafty tongue, a ready instrument
Of that most subtle wickedness, his brain,
Babbles in fatuous imbecility.”
—Holofernes, a Mystery.
“We meet to part no more.”
—Amatory Sentiment.
AFTER proceeding about a mile, at a pace which consorted ill with the fever of impatience that tormented me, we came once again upon the high road; and having got clear of ruts and mud-holes, were enabled to resume our speed. Half-an-hour's gallop advanced us above six miles on our route, and brought us to the little town of M—. Here we were compelled to stop to change our smoking horses, and had the satisfaction of learning that a carriage, answering to old Peter's description of the one we were in pursuit of, had changed horses there about twenty minutes before our arrival, and that a gentleman and his groom had since been observed to ride at speed through the town, and to follow the course taken by the carriage without drawing bridle. Whilst making these inquiries, four stout posters had been attached to our vehicle, and we again dashed forward. Another half-hour of maddening suspense followed, although the postboys, stimulated by the promise of reward, exerted themselves to the utmost, till the carriage swung from side to side with a degree of violence which rendered an overturn by no means an improbable contingency. No signs of the fugitives were to be discerned, and I was beginning to speculate on the possibility of their having again attempted to deceive us by turning off from the high road, when an exclamation from Peter Barnett (who, from his exalted station, was able to command a more extended view than ourselves) attracted my attention. We were at the moment descending a hill, which from its steepness obliged the postilions to proceed at a more moderate pace. Thrusting my head and shoulders out of one of the front windows, and raising myself by my hands, I contrived to obtain a view of the scene which had called forth Peter's ejaculation. Rather beyond the foot of the hill, where the ground again began to ascend, a group of persons, apparently farming labourers, were gathered round some object by the wayside, while almost in the centre of the road lay a large dark mass, which, as I came nearer, I perceived to be the dead carcase of a horse; another horse, snorting with terror at the sight of its fallen companion, was with difficulty prevented from breaking away by a groom, who, from his dark and well-appointed livery, I immediately recognised as a servant of Wilford's.
With a sensation of horror, such as I do not remember ever before to have experienced, I shouted to the postboys to stop, and, springing out, hastened to join the crowd collected by the roadside. They made way for me as I approached, thereby enabling me to perceive the object of their solicitude. Stretched at full length upon the grass, and perfectly motionless, lay the form of Wilford; his usually pale features wore the livid hue of death, and his long black hair was soaked and matted with blood, which trickled slowly from a fearful contused wound towards the back of the head. His right shoulder, which was crushed out of all shape, appeared a confused mass of mud and gore, while his right—his pistol arm—lay bent in an unnatural direction, which showed that it was broken in more places than one. He was perfectly insensible, but that he was still alive was proved, as well by his hard and painful breathing, as by a low moan of agony to which he occasionally gave utterance. “How has this happened?” inquired I, turning away with a thrill of horror.
“Well, as I make out, the mare crushed him when she fell upon him; but he knows best, for he saw it all,” replied one of the countrymen, pointing to the groom, who now came forward.
On questioning the servant, I learned that Wilford, before he went out shooting that morning, had ordered his saddle-horses to be ready for him at a certain hour, adding, that the black mare, of which mention has been so often before made in this history, was to be saddled for his own riding. Immediately after Peter Barnett had returned with the news of Miss Saville's abduction, Wilford had called for his horses in great haste, told the servant to follow him, and ridden off at speed, through fields and along by-lanes, till he arrived at Hardman's mill. There he was made acquainted (as I knew from the miller's confession) with the deception which had been practised upon him, and, muttering imprecations against Cumberland, he started in pursuit, riding at such a pace that the groom, although well mounted, had the greatest difficulty in keeping up with him. At length they caught sight of a carriage with four horses descending the steep hill already mentioned, and proceeding at a rate which proved that time was a more important consideration than safety to those it contained. Regardless of the dangerous nature of the ground, Wilford continued his headlong course, and overtook the fugitives just at the bottom of the hill. Riding furiously up to the side of the vehicle, he shouted to the drivers to stop, in a voice hoarse with passion. Intimidated by his furious gestures, and uncertain whether to obey or not, the postboys, in their irresolution, slackened their speed, when Cumberland, urged apparently to desperation, leaned out of the window with a cocked pistol in his hand, ordered the drivers to proceed, and turning to Wilford, desired him to give up the pursuit, or (levelling the pistol at him as he spoke) he would blow his brains out. Wilford, taking no notice of the threat, again shouted to the postilions to stop, and was about to ride forward to compel their obedience, when Cumberland, after hesitating for a moment, suddenly changed the direction of the pistol, and aiming at the horse instead of the rider, fired.
Simultaneously with the report, the mare plunged madly forward, reared up till she stood almost erect, pawed the air wildly with her fore-feet, and then dropped heavily backwards, bearing her rider with her, and crushing him as she fell. The ball had entered behind the ear, and passing in an oblique direction through the brain, had produced instant death. Without waiting to ascertain the effect of his shot, Cumberland again compelled the postboys to proceed, and by the time the groom reached the scene of action the carriage was rapidly getting out of sight. The servant being unable to extricate his master from the fallen horse, was about to ride off for assistance, when some labourers, attracted by the report of the pistol, had come up, and by their united efforts had succeeded in freeing the sufferer, but only, as it seemed, to die from the serious nature of the injuries he had sustained.
“Umph! eh!—the man's a dead man, or next door to it,” exclaimed Mr. Frampton, who had joined me while the groom was giving the above recital. “Nevertheless, we must do what we can for him, scoundrel as he is. How's a doctor to be obtained. Umph?”
“Where does the nearest surgeon live?” asked I.
“There ain't none nearer than M——” was the reply, naming the town through which we had passed.
“I must leave you to settle this matter,” continued I; “too much time has already been lost for me to attempt to overtake Cumberland with the carriage; I must follow them on horseback. Take off the leaders and shift the saddle on to the led horse; he seems the freshest.”
“Umph! go and get shot, like the wretched man here,” put in Mr. Frampton. “You shan't do it, Frank.”
“With his fate before me, I will be careful, sir,” replied I; “but think of Clara in the power of that villain! Your niece must be rescued at all hazards; still, even for her sake, I will be cautious.—Is that horse ready?”
“If you please, sir,” said one of the postilions, a quick, intelligent lad, who, while we were speaking, had removed the saddle from the dead mare to the back of the off leader, “if you will take me with you, I can show you how to stop them.” He then explained, that about five miles farther on there was a turnpike at the top of a long hill, which a heavy carriage must ascend slowly, and that he knew a short cut across some fields, by means of which, if we made the best of our way, we might reach the turnpike in time to close the gate before those of whom we were in pursuit should arrive. This plan appeared so sensible and comparatively easy of execution, that even Mr. Frampton could offer no objection to it, and, mounting our horses, we again resumed the chase.
And now, for the first time since I had heard of Clara's abduction, did I at all recover my self-command, or venture to hope the affair would be brought to a favourable issue. But the change from inaction to vigorous exertion, and the refreshing sensation of the cool air as it whistled round my throbbing temples, tended to restore the elasticity of my spirits, and I felt equal to any emergency that might arise. After following the high road for about a mile, we turned down a lane on the right, and leaving this when we had proceeded about half a mile farther, we entered a large grass field, which we dashed over in gallant style, and making our way across sundry other fields, and over, through, and into (for the post-horses, though not by any means despicable cattle in their degree, were scarcely calculated for such a sudden burst across country as that to which we were treating them) the respective hedges and ditches by which they were divided, we regained the high road, after a rattling twenty minutes' gallop. The point at which we emerged was just at the top of a very steep hill, up which the road wound in a serpentine direction.
“Are we before them, do you think?” inquired I of my companion, as we reined in our panting steeds.
“I'm sure as we must be, sir, by the pace we've come. I didn't think the old 'osses had it in 'em; but you does ride slap hup, sir, and no mistake—pity as you ain't on the road, your honour.”
“If I pass behind those larch trees,” asked I, smiling at the postboy's compliment, “I can see down the hill without being seen, can I not?”
His reply being in the affirmative, I advanced to the spot I had indicated, and, to my delight, perceived a carriage and four making its way up the hill with as great rapidity as the nature of the ground rendered possible. Turning my horse's head, I rejoined my companion, and we rode on to the turnpike.
Half a dozen words served to convey my wishes to the turnpike-man, as many shillings rendered him my firm friend, and half the number of minutes sufficed to close and effectually bolt and bar the gate.
The postboy having by my orders tied up the horses to a rail on the other side of the gate, we all three entered the turnpike-house, where, with breathless impatience, I awaited the arrival of the carriage. In less time than even I had imagined possible, the sound of horses' feet, combined with the rattle of wheels, and the shouting of the drivers, when they perceived the gate was shut, gave notice of their approach.
“Wait,” exclaimed I, laying my hand on the boy's arm to restrain his impetuosity, “wait till they pull up, and then follow me, both of you; but do not interfere unless you see me attacked, and likely to be overpowered.”
As I spoke, the horses were cheeked so suddenly as to throw them on their haunches, and, amidst a volley of oaths at the supposed inattention of the turnpike-man, one of the party (in whose coarse bloated features and corpulent figure I at once recognised my ci-devant acquaintance of the billiard-room, Captain Spicer) jumped down to open the gate. This was the moment I had waited for, and bounding forward, followed by my satellites, I sprang to the side of the carriage. A cry of joy from Clara announced that I was recognised, and with an eager hand she endeavoured to let down the glass, but was prevented by Cumberland, who was seated on the side nearest the spot where-! was standing. In an instant my resolution was taken: wrenching open the carriage door, and flinging down the steps, I sprang upon him, and seizing him by the coat-collar before he had time to draw a pistol, I dragged him out head foremost, an I, giving way to an ungovernable impulse of rage, shook him till I could hear all the teeth rattle in his head, and threw him from me with such violence that he staggered and fell. In another moment Clara was in my arms.
“Clara, dearest! my own love!” whispered I, as, shedding tears of joy, she rested her head upon my shoulder, “what happiness to have saved you!”
There are moments when feeling renders us eloquent, when the full heart pours forth its riches in eager and impassioned words; but there are other times, and this was one of them, when language is powerless to express the deep emotion of the soul, and our only refuge is in silence. Clara was the first to speak.
“Frank—tell me—what has become of Mr. Fleming—the pistol-shot—that maddened plunging horse—I am sure something dreadful has happened.”
“He is indeed severely injured by the fall,” replied I, wishing the truth to break upon her by degrees; “but I was unable to remain to learn a surgeon's opinion—and this reminds me that I have still a duty to perform; Cumberland must be detained to answer for his share in this transaction;” and leading Clara to a bench outside the turnpike-house, I proceeded to put my intentions into practice.
But whilst I had been thus engrossed, affairs had assumed a somewhat different aspect. The turnpike-man was actively engaged in a pugilistic contest with Captain Spicer, who, on his attempting to lay hands on him, had shown fight, and was punishing his adversary pretty severely. Cumberland's quick eye had perceived the horses the moment he had regained his feet, and when he saw that I was fully occupied, he had determined to seize the opportunity for effecting his escape. Springing over the gate, he untied one of the horses, and striking down the boy who attempted to prevent him, rode away at a gallop, at the moment I reappeared upon the scene; while the second horse, after struggling violently to free itself, had snapped the bridle and dashed off in pursuit of its retreating companion. This being the case, it was useless to attempt to follow him; and not altogether sorry that circumstances had rendered it impossible for me to be his captor, I turned to assist my ally, the turnpike-man, who, to use the language of the “Chicken,” immortalised by Dickens, appeared in the act of being “gone into and finished” by the redoubtable Captain Spicer. Not wishing to have my facial development disfigured by the addition of a black eye, however, I watched my opportunity, and springing aside to avoid the blow with which he greeted me, succeeded in inserting my fingers within the folds of his neckcloth, after which I had little difficulty in choking him into a state of incapacity, when he submitted to the indignity of having his hands tied behind him, and was induced to resume his seat in the rumble as a prisoner, till such time as I should learn Mr. Framp-ton's opinion as to the fittest manner of disposing of him. I then replaced Clara in the carriage, which by my orders had turned round, rewarded the turnpike-man, as well as the boy to whose forethought and able guidance I was mainly indebted for my success, and taking my seat beside my prisoner, we started on our return.
One naturally feels a certain degree of awkwardness in attempting to make conversation to a man, whom only five minutes before one has nearly succeeded in strangling, however thoroughly the discipline may have been deserved—and yet silence is worse; at least I found it so; and after clearing my throat once or twice, as if I had been the person half-throttled rather than the throttler, I began:—
“It is some years since we have met, Captain Spicer”.
The individual thus addressed turned round quickly as I spoke, and favoured me with a scrutinising glance—it was evident he did not recognise me.
“Have you forgotten the billiard-room in F—— Street, and the way in which your pupil and associate, Mr. Cumberland, cheated my friend Oaklands?”
The captain, on having this somewhat unpleasant reminiscence of bygone hours forced upon him, turned—I was going to say pale, but that was an impossibility—rather less red than usual ere he replied:—
“I beg pardon, Mr. Fairlegh, but I'd quite forgotten you, sir; 'pon my conscience I had. Ah, that was a foolish piece of business, sir; but Mr. Cumberland, he always was a bad un.”
“The man who encouraged and assisted him, not to mention working on his fears and godding him to desperation, is scarcely the person to blame him,” replied I sternly.
“Ah! you don't know all, sir; he was a precious sight worse than you're awake to yet, Mr. Fairlegh. I could tell you things that would surprise you; and if I thought that you would save yourself the trouble of taking me any farther than M——, which is, I believe, the nearest place where I can pick up a coach to London, I don't know that I should mind explaining matters a bit. What do you say, sir? you are lawyer enough to know that you can't do anything to me for this morning's work, I dare say.”
“I am not so certain of that,” replied I; “abduction and manslaughter are legal offences, I believe.”
“I had nothing to do with the last job,” was the reply; “I could not have prevented Cumberland shooting the mare if my own brother had been riding her.”
This I believed to be true, and I was far from certain that, although morally guilty, Captain Spicer had committed any offence for which he could be punished by law; moreover, as he had been a good deal knocked about in his conflict with the turnpike-man, and I had more than half-strangled him with my own hands, I felt leniently disposed towards him. I therefore replied:—
“Tell me, truly and honestly, supposing you can for once contrive to do so, all you know about this business; and if, as I imagine, you have only been the tool of others in the affair, it is possible my friend, Mr. Frampton, may be induced to let you off “.
Upon this hint, the captain having prevailed upon me to remove his extempore handcuffs, and passed his word not to attempt escape, proceeded to give me the following particulars:—
About a year or so before he had acted in some mysterious capacity at a gambling-house, of which Cumberland was part proprietor, and which was one of Wilford's favourite resorts. The debts which, as a boy, Cumberland had begun to contract, had increased till he became deeply involved; and after availing himself of every kind of subterfuge to postpone the evil day, was on the point of being arrested by his principal creditor, a money-lender, to whom he owed seven hundred and fifty pounds. Shortly before the day on which he had promised to meet the demand, Spicer, getting a cheque cashed at a banker's in the city, was present when an agent of Wilford's paid in to his account two thousand pounds, which circumstance he mentioned to Cumberland. That evening Cumberland induced Wilford to play picquet; they played high, but fortune varied, and at the end of the game Cumberland rose a winner of eighty pounds, for which Wilford wrote him a cheque. On examining his banker's book shortly afterwards, Wilford discovered that a cheque for eight hundred pounds had been presented and duly honoured, which proved, on minute inspection, to be the cheque written for Cumberland, and of course a forgery. For reasons of his own, one of which no doubt was to obtain absolute power over Cumberland, Wilford refused to prosecute. When, some months after this transaction, Spicer was summoned to assist in carrying off Clara, Cumberland sought him out, told him that he had a scheme to frustrate Wilford and gain possession of Clara, and proved to him that he had by some means obtained five thousand pounds in specie, of which he offered him one thousand pounds if he would assist him, his object being to escape to America, and live there upon Clara's fortune. Captain Spicer, tempted by the magnitude of the sum mentioned, aware that his character was too well known in London to render that city a desirable place of residence, and having a strong idea that he could turn his talents to account among the Yankees, stipulated that, in addition to the sum proposed, Cumberland should pay his passage out, and agreed to the plan. The further details of the plot have been already partially explained. Aware of Wilford's predilection for keeping up appearances, and conducting his intrigues with so much cunning as in many instances to divert suspicion into some other channel, Cumberland sought him out, and telling him that he had observed his passion for Clara, professed that her money was his only object, spoke of his desire to reside in America, and wound up by offering, if Wilford would give up the forged paper, and agree to allow him a certain sum quarterly out of Clara's fortune, to run off with her, and hand her over to him. To this Wilford, relying on Spicer, and determining to retain the forged cheque as a guarantee for Cumberland's fidelity until Clara was placed in the hands of Hardman, agreed. With the results of this arrangement the reader is already acquainted.
As my disreputable companion came to the end of his recital we drove up to the door of the principal inn of the little town of M——.