Dead Man's Love

by Tom Gallon

There was such a grim, set purpose in the face that, after she had gone a yard or two, I turned on an instinct and followed her. I heard the latch of the gate click, as she went out, closing the gate after her; unfortunately it clicked again a moment or two later, when I in turn passed out in her wake. I flattened myself against the wall, because Martha Leach had stopped in the road, and had looked back. Fortunately for me she did not return; after a momentary pause she went on again rapidly, taking a northern direction.

Now, by all the laws of the game I ought to have returned to the house to keep my vigil there; for what earthly purpose could I hope to serve in chasing this woman about the northern suburbs of London, at something near to nine o'clock on a summer's evening? But I felt impelled to go on after her; and my heart sank a little when presently I saw her hail a four-wheeled cab, and range herself up beside the front wheel, to drive a bargain with the cabman. Without her knowledge I had come to the back of the cab, and could hear distinctly what she said.

I felt at first that I was dreaming when I heard her asking the man if he could drive her to an address near Barnet; and that address was the house of my Uncle Zabdiel! After some demur the man agreed; and the woman got inside, and the cab started. And now I was determined that I would follow this thing out to the bitter end; for I began to understand vaguely what her mission was to my uncle.

As I ran behind the cab, now and then resting myself by perching perilously on the springs, I had time to think of the events that had followed the coming of George Rabbit to the doctor's house, and his discovery of me. I remembered that light I had seen in the loft; I remembered how Martha Leach had come from that loft, carrying a lantern; I remembered how she had threatened to find out who I was, and from whence I came. And I knew now with certainty that she was on her way to my uncle, with the purpose of letting him know the exact state of affairs.

I own that I was puzzled to know why she should be concerning herself in the matter at all. That she hated Debora I knew, and I could only judge that she felt I might be dangerous, and had best be got rid of in some fashion or other. The newspaper reports of my trial and sentence had made my life, of necessity, common property; she would be able easily to discover the address of Uncle Zabdiel. That she was working, as she believed, in the interests of the doctor I could well understand; but whether by his inspiration or not it was impossible for me to know.

The cab stopped at last outside that grim old house I remembered so well, that house from which I had been taken on my uncle's accusation. By that time, of course, I was some yards away from it, watching from the shelter of a doorway; but I heard the bell peal in the great, hollow old place, and presently saw the gate open, and Martha Leach, after some parley, pass in. Then the gate was closed again, and I was left outside, to conjecture for myself what was happening within.

I determined at last that I would get into the place myself; it might be possible for me to forestall Martha Leach, and take some of the wind out of her sails. Moreover, the prospect of appearing before my uncle in a ghostly character rather appealed to me than not; he had given me one or two bad shocks in my life, and I might return the compliment. For, of course, I was well aware that he must long since have believed that I was dead and buried, as had been reported. I went near to the house, and tried the gate; found, somewhat to my relief, that it was not fastened. I slipped in, and closed the gate after me, and found myself standing in the narrow garden that surrounded the house.

Strange memories came flocking back to me as I stood there looking up at the dark house. How much had I not suffered in this place, in what terror of the darkness I had lain, night after night, as a boy, dreading to hear the footsteps of Uncle Zabdiel, and yet feeling some relief at hearing them in that grim and silent place! I thought then, as I stood there, how absolutely alone I was in the great world—how shut out from everything my strength and manhood seemed to have a right to demand. And with that thought came a recklessness upon me, greater even than I had felt before, almost, indeed, a feeling of devilry.

I had been questioning myself as to my motive in coming there at all; now I seemed to see it clearly. The woman now in the house was doubtless giving my uncle chapter and verse concerning my strange coming to life; left in her hands, I was as good as done for already. I felt sure that the first thought in Uncle Zabdiel's mind, if he realised the truth of what she said, would be one of deadly fear for his own safety; for he believed me reckless and steeped in wickedness, and he knew that I had no reason to love him. He would seek protection; and in seeking it would give me up to those who had the right to hold me.

Nor was this all. In giving me up he must perforce open a certain grave wherein lay poor Gregory Pennington, and show what that grave contained. He must drag that miserable story into the light, and must drag Debora into the light with it. I could see Uncle Zabdiel, in imagination, rubbing his hands, and telling the whole thing glibly, and making much of it; and I determined that Uncle Zabdiel's mouth must be closed.