The School Friends: or, Nothing New. Kingston William Henry GilesЧитать онлайн книгу.
– he felt a fearful pressure round his neck – it seemed that a cap was drawn over his eyes – the murmuring sound of numberless voices rang in his ears – he was standing on the platform at Newgate, the drop was about to fall beneath his feet. He had once witnessed such a scene, and gazed at it with indifference, moving off among the careless throng with the remark “Poor wretch! he has got what he deserved.” Could it be possible that he himself was now standing where he had seen the unhappy culprit launched into eternity. He awoke with a start, and found to his satisfaction that he had been only dreaming. His eyelids were heavy, his eyes bloodshot. He washed his face in cold water, and endeavoured to laugh off the recollection of his dream while he brushed his hair and arranged his cravat. He went down-stairs and joined his companions in the breakfast-room. They rallied him on his rakish look. He talked in his usual affected way, managing, however, to bring in the falsehood he had already uttered about his mother’s illness. It would assist, he hoped, to account for his not returning from the bank.
After a good breakfast he went with apparent diligence to business, waiting with anxious trepidation to be summoned by Mr Padman to convey the money received to the bank. Sometimes, as Lance’s words, and the recollection of his horrid dream, would intrude, he almost hoped that some one else would be selected; then he thought of, his debts, and the consequence of Miss Padman’s communication to her father, and the sneers of his companions, and he resolved to carry out the plan proposed by Sass Gange.
The expected summons came. He received nearly 400 pounds, with the usual directions.
“I need not tell you to be careful, Dulman, and keep out of crowds,” said Mr Padman as he gave him the money.
Emery, buttoning up his coat, replied, with a forced smile, that he need have no fear on that score, though it was with difficulty that he prevented his knees from knocking together as he walked away.
He hastened out of the house. As he expected, before getting far, on looking back, he saw Sass Gange following at his heels. Would it not be safer, after all, to pay the money in? Miss Padman might relent; and should he be captured, the dreadful dream of the morning might be realised. “Pooh! they don’t hang for such things as that,” he said to himself.
Directly afterwards he felt Sass’s hand laid on his shoulder.
“Have you a goodish sum, my lad?” he asked.
“Seldom have had more at one time,” answered Emery.
“Then come along, don’t let us lose the chance.” Sass called a cab, and forced his dupe into it. They drove away to Gange’s lodgings.
He ran in and brought down Emery’s portmanteau, and a sea-bag with his own traps. The cabman was ordered to drive to Euston Square station. Sass had a railway guide; he had been consulting it attentively; they might catch a train starting for Liverpool.
“Is it most in notes or gold?” asked Sass.
“About a third in gold, the rest in bank-notes, with a few cheques,” said Emery.
“Hand me out the gold, then, it will suit me best,” said Sass. “I will be content with that as my share. You can get rid of the notes better than I can.”
Sass promised double fare to the cabman if he would drive faster.
Emery wanted to keep some of the gold for himself, but Sass insisted on having the whole of it. He made Emery pay the fare. They had three minutes to spare.
“You take our tickets,” said Sass, “second class for me, there are no third, and a first for yourself. We had better be separate; and if by any chance we are traced thus far, it will help to put them off the scent.”
Emery having no gold, took out a bank-note for ten pounds. He felt somewhat nervous as the booking-clerk examined it. It was all right, however, and he received his change, and going on to the next shutter took a ticket for his companion.
“All right,” said Gange, “get in, and sit at the further side, and pretend to be sleepy or drunk, only keep your face away from the light. Your portmanteau is ticketed for Liverpool. Good-bye, my lad, till we stop on the road, and I will come and have a look at you.”
Gange disappeared. Off went the train, and Emery’s brain whirled round and round, even faster than the carriage seemed to be moving. He tried not to think, but in vain.
The other seats were filled, but he had not dared to look at his companions. He heard them laughing and talking. A board was opened, and dice rattled, still he did not look up. Cards were produced.
“Will any other gentleman join us?” asked a man sitting opposite to the seat, next to him. He caught Emery’s eye. “Will you, sir,” he added in a bland voice. “We play for very moderate stakes.”
Emery knew something about the game proposed. It would have been better for him had he been ignorant of it altogether. A game of cards would enable him to turn his thoughts from himself. He agreed to play. He knew that he did not play well, but to his surprise he found himself winning. The stakes were doubled. He still won. He thought that his companions were very bad players. Again the stakes were increased, he still occasionally won, but oftener lost. He had soon paid away all his gold, and was compelled to take out one of the notes which he had stolen; that quickly went, and another, and another. He felt irritated, and eager to get back the money he had lost; he had won at first, why should he not again? His companions looked calm and indifferent, as if it mattered very little if the luck turned against them.
When they came to a station, they shut up the board, and put the cards under their railway rugs.
Emery had lost fifty pounds of the stolen money. He felt ready for any desperate deed. Two of the men got out at the next large station. Could he have been certain that the money was in the possession of the remaining man, he would have seized him by the throat, and tried to get it back.
The man kept eyeing him sternly, as if aware of his thoughts. Just before the train started, he also stepped out, carrying the board concealed in his rug.
“You have been a heavy loser, I fear,” said a gentleman in the seat near the door. “I would have warned you had I thought you would have lost so much, but it will be a lesson to you in future. I am convinced, by their movements, that those were regular card-sharpers. It’s too late now, but you may telegraph from the next station to try and stop them.”
As this remark was made, it flashed into Emery’s mind that some one might telegraph to Liverpool to stop him. He scarcely thought about his loss, but dreaded that his agitation might betray him. The gentleman naturally thought it arose from his being cheated of so much money. Emery tried to look unconcerned.
“A mere trifle,” he said, forcing a laugh, “I will try and catch the rogues, though.”
However, when he reached the next station, remembering Sass Gange’s caution, he was afraid to leave his seat.
“I might lose the train,” he said, “and business of importance takes me to Liverpool.”
“As you think fit,” observed the gentleman, “but you will now have little chance of recovering your money.”
Emery was thankful when the train again moved on.
Sass Gange had not appeared at either of the stations.
Liverpool was at length reached. He looked about expecting to see Sass, but he was nowhere to be found. His own portmanteau was in the luggage-van, but the sailor’s bag was not with it.
Where to go he could not tell. His eye caught the name of a hotel. He took a cab and drove to it.
It was too late to change any notes that night; but he determined in the morning, as early as possible, to get rid of those evidences of his guilt. In the meantime, he went to bed utterly miserable.
Story 1-Chapter VII
Mr Padman became anxious when neither Emery nor Sass Gange returned at the expected time. On sending to the bank he found that no money had been paid in. He made inquiries if they had been seen, and learned that Emery had sent for his portmanteau in the morning. He at once despatched a messenger to Gange’s lodgings. Gange had left