Lewis, having lighted a powerful lamp by the aid of which he was accustomed to paint at night, was enabled to take a more particular survey of his new acquaintance than circumstances had yet permitted. He was a tall, powerfully-built stripling, with a dark complexion and handsome features, but although he could scarcely have numbered twenty years, his face wore a prematurely old expression, and there was a wild, reckless look in his eyes which told of a spirit ill at ease. He wore a sailor’s dress, though the materials of which it was composed were of a finer quality than ordinary; he coldly refused the chair which Lewis offered him, and folding his arms across his breast, waited to be questioned. Lewis in the meantime took his seat at the table, placed the pistols on the desk before him, and fixing his piercing glance on the face of his captive, began—
“My knowledge of you is this: I find you an active and zealous member of a conspiracy to overthrow the Austrian Government in this city—one of a set of conspirators whose first act is to be the assassination of Colonel Marinovich, commandant of the Arsenal. As far as I am concerned, you first resolved to denounce me to your associates as a spy; foiled in that attempt, you incite an accomplice to murder me, and on his failure, use your best endeavours to stab me yourself; in the struggle I disarm you, and you find yourself in the power of the man for whose blood you have been thirsting. Even allowing, for the sake of argument, that you were justified in seeking the life of one who might betray your treasonous designs, you still remain a convicted conspirator, and my natural course would be to hand you over to the police; for your threat of never being taken alive is absurd, since you lost your stiletto I could have captured you at any moment I pleased. However, the fact of your being an Englishman interests me in your behalf, and if you will answer my questions frankly and truly, I may be induced to let you off. In the first place, tell me who you are, and enough of your former life to enable me to understand how I find you thus plotting with foreigners with whom you can have no feelings in common, for an evil purpose.”
“I can soon satisfy you, if that is all you require,” was the reply. “My life has from its commencement been a curse to myself and to others. Wrong has produced wrong; I was badly brought up, and I have turned out badly; I am not the first that has done so, nor shall I be the last. At the age when most children are carefully trained to good, I was as sedulously instructed in evil. At twelve years old I could swear, game, and drink, and my instructors laughed to see the boy aping the vices of the man. My mother died in giving me birth; my father, I know not why, never loved me: he used me cruelly, and I hated him for it; so I left my home and worked for four years on board a man-of-war. At the end of that time the ship was paid off. Seeking pleasure, I fell into vicious company; squandered, and was robbed of my pay, and for some weeks I wandered a houseless beggar through London streets. The chance kindness of a stranger rescued me from that state of wretchedness”—a peculiar expression flitted across the features of his auditor as he mentioned the fact of his rescue from beggary; not observing it, he continued: “I then entered the merchant-service, and speedily rose to the rank of mate. The misery I had undergone rendered me more careful. I saved money, studied my profession, and hoped in time to become a captain of a merchantman. I embarked the whole of my savings in a trading speculation which would more than have doubled them, when the ship containing my property was wrecked. I was picked up by a vessel bound to this port, and was landed here again a beggar; and after trying in vain to procure any better situation, I have been forced to work in the arsenal as a common labourer to save myself from starvation. But even there my ill-fortune and the cruelty and injustice of men followed me. Peculation to a great extent was discovered amongst the workmen; I was examined before Colonel Marinovich; in vain I protested my innocence. God knows I have committed sins enough; but thieving and lying were never among them. However, I was condemned to receive forty lashes. Yes, sir; I, an Englishman, innocent of the crime of which I was accused, was beaten like a slave by the orders of a tyrannical foreigner; and now, perhaps, you can tell what took me to the meeting to-night? It was the hope of revenge, and there were others there with the same deadly purpose. The man who proposed the assassination of Marinovich was innocent as myself, and like me had smarted beneath the tyrant’s lash. You by revealing this plot threatened to cheat us of our just revenge, and for that reason I would have sacrificed your life. And now you know my history, what will you do with me?”
There was a moment’s pause ere Lewis, fixing his eyes on him with a clear, penetrating glance, said slowly and impressively, “There are a few minor particulars which appear to have escaped your memory; I will try to supply the deficiency. You were born in the village of B————, in H——shire. Your early instructors in evil were the worthless characters who accompanied your father on his poaching expeditions. You left home because in a drunken mood your father struck you, and would not confess afterwards that he was sorry for so doing. You would have run away sooner but for your affection for your sister Jane. The stranger who rescued you from beggary was a young man who met you by chance at the door of a house in ———— Street, Russell Square; you begged of him in Italian; the merchant-ship in which you served, to whose commander he gave you an introduction, was the ‘Beauty,’ of Southsea, Captain Singleton, and your own name is Miles Hardy. Am I not correct in these particulars?”
When Lewis began speaking his companion’s attention became riveted. As he proceeded his surprise grew deeper and deeper; but when he mentioned his name he sprang forward, and regarding him with wildly gleaming eyes, exclaimed, “Tell me, what are you? man or devil? who thus know every secret of my life.”
“I am no devil,” returned Lewis, smiling, “but a mortal like yourself; you have seen me before; look well at me; do you not recognise me?”
Thus appealed to, the young man carefully scanned his features, and then, in a low, hesitating voice, rejoined, “You are, or I am much mistaken, the gentleman who rescued me from beggary.”
“You are right,” was the reply; “we are both much changed since that night, but I knew you at the moment you seized me by the throat.”
“Thank God, I did not succeed in taking your life!” exclaimed Miles Hardy earnestly; “you are almost the only person who has ever shown me disinterested kindness; and how have I sought to repay it! Oh, sir, can you forgive me?”
“The simple fact that you did not recognise me exonerates you from the charge of ingratitude, my poor fellow,” returned Lewis kindly; “but now sit down. Ere I can explain to you how I gained the knowledge which has so much surprised you, you have a long tale to listen to, and one which will cause you much sorrow. You turn pale; wait, I will get you a glass of wine.”