A DIRTY JOB.
Time dragged slowly, Senator Hamblin being ill at ease.
Beholding his daughter's sorrow, and knowing she could not become the wife of Walter Mannis, he began looking about for some other method to avert the financial disaster threatening him.
Scarcely a moment passed that he did not reproach himself for the great wrong he had done. Overwhelmed with horror, and fully realizing that ambition and selfishness had made him a criminal, he little realized that he was dealing with men deeper and more desperate than himself.
One night a man left the village of Cleverdale and passed into the country. He wore a slouched hat pulled well down over his forehead, while his coat-collar was turned up about his neck. The night was dark and cloudy, so the pedestrian was scarcely observed by any one; but when he met an acquaintance, he pulled his hat further over his brow, and passed unrecognized. Under his left arm he carried a large bundle, his right hand holding fast a heavy cane, which he used to pick out his pathway.
It was not long before, passing beyond the corporate limits of the village, his feet were treading the highway leading toward Havelock. As he kept on his way he heard the noise of an approaching carriage. The dense clouds overhead made the night so dark that teams were compelled to move slowly, and as the mysterious pedestrian neared the carriage he coughed three times; a low whistle assured him his signal was heard. The single individual in the vehicle cried out, "Whoa!" the man on foot approached and jumped in. The team turned and headed toward Havelock, and the horses were driven faster than was compatible with safety.
One hour later the vehicle entered a piece of dense woods. The driver, dismounting, seized the horses by the head and led them on, through a narrow roadway or lane, for a distance of at least a quarter of a mile. When he stopped the man in the carriage jumped to the ground, and the two stood side by side. The driver then reached beneath the seat of the carriage, and drew forth a dark lantern, a pickaxe, two shovels, a hoe, a coil of rope, and two long queer-looking hooks with wooden handles. As he passed his hand under the seat, a noise was heard similar to the wail of a cat.
Both men were disguised, and as they continued their work conversed in low tones. Gathering up their tools and moving along at a rapid pace for about five hundred feet, they stopped at the edge of the forest and scaled a high picket fence. White slabs of marble, tall columns of the same material, and large granite monuments rose before them like spectres, grim and lonely.
A ghost-like stillness pervaded the scene, for the two men were in a city of the dead, surrounded on all sides by its silent habitations.
"Follow me—it is only a short distance away. Come," said the taller of the two, who led on, his companion following.
The two men paused at the side of a newly made mound, and laying down their tools, pulled off their overcoats and prepared for work. As they threw aside their disguises the reader would at once have recognized the two men as Hon. Walter Mannis and Sargent, the teller.
"Here is the grave," said Mannis. "And we must commence our work at once. This man was buried last Sunday, and in size and personal appearance looks much like Alden. Let us hurry up and snake him out—come, take that pick and loosen the earth. Eh? what's that? S—h—h—h! Pshaw! it's only a twig which broke beneath your feet."
"This is rather serious business, Mannis. Give me a pull from that bottle. There—that tastes good, and it will nerve a fellow up."
"Yes, we need a little backbone—be careful and do not make much noise, for we are within a quarter mile of the road, and there is danger of being discovered. Here—hand me that spade. The earth is not very solid, for I can easily run this spade down a foot or two."
"This pick goes in as easy," said Sargent, "as if it were cutting cheese. Wonder where Alden is now? Ha! ha! wouldn't he make Rome howl if he knew what we were doing? But, d—n him! he always looked upon me as if I was a scoundrel; now I'll be even with him. There, how is that? Hand me that other spade."
Mannis, doing as requested, said:
"Be careful, Sargent, and throw the dirt where the grave-digger pitched it. So the old man weakened, eh?—if he knew that you pocketed his letter he would be apt to send you adrift. His pretty daughter is his pride, his very life—Ah, Sargent, she is a darling, and I feel rather sorry for her, for she will cry her pretty eyes out upon learning George Alden will never return. Careful, Sargent; the earth is falling back into the grave. Here, take another drink; egad! a little good spirits is required to keep the evil spirits away. I don't just like this job; but virtue will have its reward, and such patterns as you and I will not be forgotten, eh?"—and both men laughed, as the devil also must have done if he was present, as probably he was.
For a full half-hour they toiled on, until they stood at least three feet deep in the grave. Slowly the mound of earth rose about them and the scene became animated. In the distance was heard the rumbling of thunder, the dark clouds overhead becoming blacker and more dense, while the men, unaccustomed to manual labor, paused at intervals to rest. Nearer and nearer they came to the box and its occupant, until at last Sargent's spade struck the wood, sending back a dull, hollow thud, startling both men.
"Gracious, Sargent! that frightened me, it came so sudden; but it will not be long before we shall have this ugly business finished."
"It startled me too. This is a pretty tough job, Mannis."
"That's so; but remember it will make you cashier of the bank."
"Yes, that will pay—but see here, Mannis, it's mighty slippery business after all."
"We have no time to discuss the matter now—come, let's to work; ten minutes of lively shovelling will have the box clean as a whistle."
Both men resumed their labor, shovelful after shovelful of dirt was thrown up on top of the mound already formed, until they stood upon the cover of the box.
"Lay the shovels outside, Sargent, and take another drink. There, that will set you up. Here's at you!" and he turned the bottle and drank deep from its throat.
Taking a screw-driver from his pocket, and turning the rays of his dark lantern into the grave, Mannis began removing the screws from the cover. It was but the work of a few moments, when, the cover carefully laid outside the grave, the screw-driver began its work on the lid of the coffin. As the corpse was exposed to view, Mannis touched its cold, clammy face. A thrill of horror went through his frame, causing him to start and step heavily upon Sargent's toes, their owner standing behind him on the lower part of the coffin-lid.
Both men expressed their abhorrence of the scene, and an outsider looking upon the body-snatchers would have beheld three death-like countenances instead of one.
"Here, Sargent, stick that hook into the clothing. Now wait a moment until I get the other hook into this side; there—steady now! Can you take hold of both hooks? There, don't drop him, and I will fasten this rope about his breast. Now if you can hold on a moment, I will get out and hang to him with the rope."
Nimble as a cat, Mannis sprang from the grave.
"Now pull out the hooks, and come and help me."
Sargent did not wait for a second summons, for his hair already stood on end at the thought of being alone in the grave with the dead man, and he was at the side of Mannis in an instant. The two men worked hard, and soon had their horrid prey out on the grass. The coffin-lid was laid back and the outside cover placed in position, the body-snatchers not waiting to replace the screws. Quickly they plied their spades, only stopping to tread down the loose dirt. In twenty minutes the grave was refilled, the mound rebuilt and the ground cleared up, as it was found.
"Sargent, we have a burden to tug. First, let us take the tools to the wagon and then return for the cold corpus."
Gathering up their tools and soon placing them beneath the carriage-seat, the men returned, and taking up the corpse, prepared to leave the cemetery. When approaching the fence, a sudden flash of lightning caused them to drop their burden, and the body rolled over into a hole near by.
"Egad! Mannis, I am sick of this. U-u-g-h! when that flash struck the face of the corpse it sent a thrill of horror all through me. I wish the body was in its coffin again."
"You think it rather unpleasant work, eh, Sargent? Well, that's because you've never been in politics. But we have got over the worst of it. Let us kick off a picket and push the fellow through the fence."
Suiting the action to the words, he gave a vigorous blow with his foot, and two pickets flew off. The body was then lifted up and crowded through the aperture, and ten minutes later the men and their disagreeable burden reached the carriage.
"It is one o'clock, Sargent," said Mannis, turning the light of his dark lantern on his watch. "We must hurry up. Get that suit of clothes, there; spread them out. Now help me strip this fellow. It was mighty lucky Alden left these clothes in the bank; very kind of him, and I am much obliged for his thoughtfulness. No one will examine them critically to see if they are old clothes or not."
"Old clothes! They are not old clothes, it is a suit he wore last year when he slept in the bank, and he never took them away. This fellow looks pretty fine in borrowed clothes, eh, Mannis?"
The body was soon dressed; the hardest work experienced was that of encasing the feet in boots, although the task, after much effort, was successfully accomplished.
The two men had labored faithfully and their work was soon finished. The clothes taken from the dead man were buried, the form lifted into the carriage, the men following, when Mannis turned the horses' heads toward Cleverdale.
The clouds began discharging flashes of lightning, loud peals of thunder adding their unpleasantness to the scene, and amid almost impenetrable darkness the team could not be driven faster than a walk. Presently great drops of rain spattered into the carriage, striking the occupants full in the face. After a long, gloomy ride, which neither Mannis nor Sargent enjoyed, the street lamps of Cleverdale were faintly seen in the distance.
"Where are we, Sargent? Oh, I see now—that flash showed up the country. There is the road—let us turn in and plant this chap."
The horses' heads were again turned, and approaching a clump of forest trees the two men jumped out. The body was taken from the vehicle and dropped over the fence. Both men then followed, and carrying the body back some distance, placed it beneath a tree.
"Where is the pistol, Sargent? All right—now I'll put a ball into his brain."
A sharp report followed, and Mannis had fired through the sightless eyes, the pistol being held so near as to tear and disfigure the face past recognition.
"There!" said he. "I guess this will be a good enough Alden until I marry the girl."
The pistol laid beside the body, the two men hastily left the place.
One hour later, Sargent was in his bed, and as daylight began to dawn, as naturally as if nothing unusual had happened, Mannis was on his way toward Havelock.