The golden key, used by some, as yet unknown, good angel, had shot back the bolts of the prison to let Eustace Wilton pass into the free world beyond. The gatekeepers had an instinctive respect for a man who could pay two thousand pounds after so short a detention, so they cast away their brusque, sharp, extraofficial impertinence of manner, and obsequiously congratulated him upon his early departure. They expressed their full and decided conviction that he would not quit “Hudson’s Hotel” without remembering those attached to the establishment, because, as the spokesman forcibly rather than elegantly observed—
“It was the custom o’ gentlemen, as was gentlemen, to act as sech, and to behave accordingly.”
Wilton had not forgotten the poor debtors’ box, and in the elation of his spirits, could not resist the appeal thus made to him. To the manifest astonishment of Hal Vivian, and to the marvel of Flora, he took from his purse two sovereigns, and handed them to the gatekeeper, who accepted the amount with a smile, which extended to the visages of two of his brother officers, who were at his elbow prepared to divide the gift as soon as Wilton’s back was turned. Nathan Gomer witnessed the act with undisguised disgust, and muttered—
“Ghouls! They fatten on the flesh and blood of the destitute and the wretched.”
He took Wilton by the arm as he spoke, and hurried him through the cage to the entrance, where a cab was waiting to receive the party.
Here Nathan Gomer, after a brief private conference with Wilton, took his leave, and the cab departed for the residence of Mr. Harper.
Wilton was compelled to proceed there; his own dwelling was now a heap of charred and blackened ruins; but he had no intention of staying beneath the roof of Mr. Harper one hour longer than was necessary. He was grateful in his acknowledgments to the good goldsmith and his wife. Once more he also assured Hal that the obligation he had conferred upon him by saving Flora from destruction, was one which he could never repay, and that he should consider himself bound in the future to perform for him any service within his power, when called upon by him to do so.
For two days, old Wilton was constantly occupied abroad. His manner was peculiar and mysterious; he volunteered no explanations, and answered questions with, reserve. He never alluded to the circumstances of his sudden liberation from prison, nor was even Flora made by him acquainted with the means by which it had been effected.
Upon the evening of the second day, he returned to Mr. Harper’s residence, and laconically informed the old goldsmith that he had been successful in securing a furnished house; he proposed, therefore, at once to remove himself and his daughter thither, that they might no longer prove a burden to those who had so unexpectedly such an addition made to their numbers, but who had played the part of Samaritans so nobly.
The announcement was listened to with regret by at least one person present, but no objection could be interposed, and before the hour of midnight had arrived, Flora found herself wooing the coy embraces of slumber upon a down bed, in an elegantly furnished bed-chamber, one of a suite in a handsome villa mansion in the Regent’s Park.