368

THE HISTORY OF ST. GILES AND ST. JAMES.*

BY THE EDITOR.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Ir was but the walk of a few minutes, and the two culprits, St. James and St. Giles-who could have thought of this companionship of guilt!--duly escorted by the officers, arrived at the little public-house, where Capstick and his companions on the journey had left the carriage. The muffin-maker himself remained behind at the cottage, insisting that Crossbone should not quit the wounded Snipeton; as, in the avowed ignorance of Capstick, "it was quite impossible that he should be dead." Crossbone could only smile contemptuously at the hopeful man, and look about him, as one looking for an easy escape. body is the body of a dead man, sir," said Crossbone. I ought to know: I have not practised so many years not to have an intimate acquaintance with death.'

"Dead! Bless my

"The

"I think

heart! Really dead, and alive but this minute!" cried Capstick vacantly.

"Of course. What do you expect hearts are made of? The left ventricle I'm sure of it-cut quite through," said Crossbone. Humph! a pretty piece of news to tell the Marquis and that blessed woman,-it will kill her-the Marchioness."

"And the wife of the murdered man!" cried Capstick-" but, dear soul! she mustn't see this sight:" and he withdrew the key from the unturned lock. "Let us remove the body."

66

Not by any means, " said Tangle. "Quite illegal. Here it must lie for the inquest."

"Lie here! Why, man, the poor soul must step across it to descend the stairs. Here, Jem; help me to break the law just a little, will you. In that room, Jem; in that room.” And Capstick and Jem lifted the dead man into the chamber from whence he had rushed upon his death; Mr. Tangle, during the

* Continued from page 278, Vol. V.

brief operation, loudly declaring that not for the best fifty pounds would he have a hand in it. "And now, Mr. Crossbone, we 'll

go down stairs to that poor wretch."

66

I really have not any time to waste upon such people now," said the apothecary. "And when I remember that, at this very moment, his lordship may have the greatest need of me,—"

"You don't stir from this house"-and Capstick, with calmest determination, grasped the apothecary's collar-" until you see the man. You don't know what may depend upon his life.'

"His life!" exclaimed Crossbone. taken if it's worth a sixpenny rope.

66

Why, I'm much mis

"Perhaps not, as you may value the article: but as the life of an innocent man may depend upon it, you must save one for the other's. I tell you, sir, you must; and there's an end of it." With this decision, Capstick led the apothecary, in custody, into the parlour, where Tom Blast, with several of the country folks about him, lay writhing in misery-pain giving to his features the most fearful expression. All the hidden wickedness of the man's heart seemed brought into his face, intensified by suffering. Two poor women hovered over him; whilst other spectators stood apart, contemplating with a curiosity that seemed at once to fascinate and horrify, the terrible show before them.

66

Crossbone, still in charge of Capstick, was brought to the wounded man; whose eye, flaming with new hate, burned upon the doctor; whose voice, rattling in his throat, growled inarticu-. lately like a beast's. Crossbone recoiled from the patient, but was brought back by the grasp of Capstick. Come, sir; what do you think of him?" asked the senator. "There's life yet, eh?" 'A nothing, sir; I can see it-oh, yes; a mere nothing. The ball is somewhere here," and the apothecary manipulated, with a strong hand, the sufferer-" can't get at it, just now; but a little medicine-something cooling-and in a day or two we 'll extract the lead.'

66

"You're sure of that, Mr. Doctor? Quite sure?" asked Blast, with a ferocious grin.

"Quite certain," answered Crossbone. "I'll pledge even my professional reputation upon it."

"Well, then, that's nothing but right," gasped the wounded man; still terribly eyeing his professing preserver. "For as the bullet came all along of you-why you can't do better than—”

NO. XXVIII.-VOL. V.

B B

"A little light-headed just now," cried Crossbone, as Blast failed in his sentence. "But, my dear sir, since you take an interest in the person," added the apothecary to Capstick, "I can promise you, that in a few days you shall have the bullet now in his body in your own hands, sir; and his life safe-that is, understand me, safe from lead. All he wants is quiet—merely quiet."

Capstick, for a moment, looked thoughtful. He then observed "Well, then, we must nurse him." And saying this, the senator exchanged a look with Bright Jem, who, with his best significant manner, nodded assent. Leave we, then, for a short time the dead man, lying stark for the coroner, and the wounded ruffian tended by present care for the hope of future benefit.

Mr. Whistle, on arriving at the public-house with his prisoners, with many apologies requested his lordship to make himself as comfortable as possible under all the circumstances. It was an ugly business; very ugly. Had the old gentleman been merely pinked a little, it would not have signified; but death, downright death, made the affair extremely disagreeable. Nevertheless, his lordship had friends who would see that he had justice done him the best justice-justice that became his station as a nobleman and a gentleman. And reiterating this consolation, Jerry Whistle again apologised that he must call upon his lordship to consider himself a prisoner; and, for a time, until it was quite necessary to appear before the magistrate, to accommodate himself to the best room of the public-house. As to the ruffian St. Giles-well, it was very odd, Mr. Whistle observed, that things should so fall out, but surely his lordship would be good enough to remember the little vagrant wretch that stole his lordship's feathered hat when quite a baby; or, if his lordship's memory could not go so far back, at least his lordship must recollect the pony stolen by the youth St. Giles, he was then, the rascal, fourteen, and must have known better,-and for which he was to have been hanged; only, foolishly enough, he had been sent to Botany Bay; whence, not knowing when he was really well off, he had run away, that he might put his head in a halter at Newgate. He must say it; it was odd, that a gentleman like his lordship St. James, and such an old offender as St. Giles, should be, so to speak, in trouble together.

"Poor wretch!" said the nobleman.

Giles?"

66

"And where is St.

Why, my lord, he is properly secured in a bit of an outhouse. There's a nice clean wisp of straw for him, and his own thoughts. And, moreover, for though it's weak, I somehow like to treat a prisoner like a man-moreover, I have ordered him a pint of beer and some bread and cheese. The county pays for it -and if it didn't, why, though I don't brag, 'twould be all the same to Jerry Whistle."

St. James was about to reply to this, when, after a slight, brief knock, the door opened, and Mr. Tangle, with a face of most tremendous woe, and his whole figure possessed by affliction, crawled into the room. He looked mournfully at St. James,

bowed, and deeply sighed.

"Do you come to reproach me, Mr. Tangle," said St. James, "with the death of your old friend?"

"Not I, my dear lord," cried Tangle, quickly, "not for worlds. I would reproach no man in his trouble, much less a gentleman-I beg your pardon, my lord-I should say, much less a nobleman. Besides, allow me to disabuse your lordship's mind. Mr. Snipeton was no friend of mine, certainly not. No two could be less alike-I hope. We were only professionally bound together, nothing more. Ties of red tape, my lord; ties of red tape-that's all."

To what, then," said St. James, with an effort, " may I owe the favour of this visit?

"Oh, my dear lord!" exclaimed Tangle, at the same time slowly taking his handkerchief from his pocket, and well shaking it ere he applied it to his eyes. "Oh, my lord!" he repeated, with his

face covered.

"Excuse me, Mr. Tangle," said Whistle, "but I cannot have his lordship distressed after this manner. I'm a man of business, whatever the grief may be. Now, if you 've anything to say that will serve the pris- what am I about ?-his lordship, I should say, why, put aside your pocket-handkerchief, and give it mouth."

Mr. Tangle seemed to struggle with himself to obey this injunction. At length, however, he displayed his naked face, and vigorously winking his eye-lids as though to well dry them, he said—“ It is not, my lord, for me to forget that I was once

honoured with the patronage of your noble house. At a time like the present, when an accidental death—”

66

Yes, I know," said St. James, and he shuddered from head to foot-" I know: the man is dead."

"He is, my lord," said the consolatory Tangle. "What then? We all must die."

66

"What a blighted wretch am I!" exclaimed the young man ; blood, blood upon my hands!

"Not at all, my lord," cried the attorney; "for depend upon it, a verdict must wipe 'em clean. And that, saving your lordship's presence, that I have ventured to come about." St. James idly stared at him. “There will, of course, be a trial: that is, a form, an honourable form to clear your lordship. And, my lord, it would be an honour to me in my declining age-at a time, too, my lord, when honour is doubly precious to a professional man- -to be allowed to attend your lordship through this business." That can't be, very well, can it," asked Whistle, "for won't they call upon you as a witness?"

"Impossible. I saw nothing of the transaction, I'll take my oath❞—and Tangle became even enthusiastic in his asseverations -"I'll take my oath, I saw nothing of it. Will you, therefore, my lord, honour me by your approving commands? And Tangle

bowed to the flocr.

"As you wili, Mr. Tangle; do what you please," said St. James, indifferently.

"Thank you, my lord. I am delighted, my lord, at the opportunity—that is, I am grateful, my lord; particularly grateful; and now, your lordship "—and Tangle suddenly fell into a solemn, organ-like strain, befitting his words—" and now, to business." Well, business. What is it-what of it? Do as you please,' cried St. James.

66

66

Oh, my lord, this confidence is, I must say it, affecting. Well, then, my lord, you must have counsel."

"Go on, sir.

"Permit me, then, my lord, to recommend-the only manMr. Montecute Crawley.'

"Montecute Crawley," faintly echoed St. James; and at the sound, he was in the criminal court of the county of Kent, and saw that weeping advocate of hapless innocence.

"Were my own brother in danger-no, I mean, were I myself,