CHAPTER X.
On the evening following the suicide of Shedlock, shortly afterdusk, the mild and benevolent Master Craftall, the partner ofthat ill-fated man, was sitting at the desk of his countinghouse,evidently in expectation of some visiter. He had not been sittingthus long, when a door behind him, leading into the street, wassuddenly pushed open, and the visiter he had been expectingrushed in.
The stranger paused on his entry, and, previous to advancing intothe chamber, closed and bolted the door. He then turned round,and confronted Craftall.
In the situation which he now took up, the light on theneighbouring desk, at which Craftall had just before beensitting, poured full upon him, and thus discovered hisproportions. He was a tall man; and his figure (for, as hewas habited in a long cloak, the precise fact could not beascertained) appeared to be stout, and to correspond with hisheight. His features were sharp, and harsh; and his eyes, whichwere remarkably small, emitted a bright and unnatural lustre,such as might indicate a disposition to insanity. His years,judging from his appearance, might be about fifty, but, as hewas now breathless, and, withal, seemed to be greatly agitated,he might look older than he was, and be really some five yearsyounger.
Craftall had started up on his entry, and, observing him to bediscomposed, began to look somewhat agitated himself.
“What hath happed, holy father?” he asked.
“I have been dogged since I went forth,” answered thepriest--for, as will have been inferred, such he was; “and havehad but a near escape.”
“Wast thou followed hard by?” asked Craftall, alarmed.
“Almost to the door,” replied the priest. “And only that my hourhad not yet come, I had been well content, in my heart, to haverendered me up, and found on the gibbet a crown of glory.”
“_Ave Maria!_” ejaculated Craftall, crossing himself.
“_Eripe me, Domine!_” cried the priest, also crossing himself.“Shall we heed this corrupt body in the service of Holy Church?Would the gibbet were now”----
Here a loud knock was inflicted on the door.
“Hush!” whispered Craftall, in a trembling voice.
The priest, whose countenance had just before beamed with theloftiest resolution, crouched with terror.
“’Tis the persecutor!” he faltered.
“Hie thee within, then, holy father!” stammered Craftall,beseechingly.
Whether it was that his hour had not yet come, or that thepersecutor, however contemptible in the distance, appearedformidable at close quarters, the priest readily embraced thisadvice, and passed through the inner door to another chamber.When he had thus disappeared, Craftall, with more composure ofmanner, proceeded to the outer door, and there demanded who waswithout.
“The servants of the Lord,” answered a harsh voice.
This answer, though so indefinite, greatly disturbed Craftall,and confirmed him in the impression he had conceived, that thepersons calling themselves the servants of the Lord were what heconsidered the Lord’s enemies, and, in short, were no other thanthe persecutors. But, whatever they might be, one thing he wasassured of, and that was, that it would be highly injudicious togive them any offence; and, consequently, he determined to admitthem on the instant.
“I am not worthy that ye should come under my roof,” he cried;“yet a good man, one worthy Master Chatter, cometh hither oft,and telleth me glad tidings of Israel.”
With these conciliatory words, he drew open the door, when, tohis amazement, the servants of the Lord who entered were, not thepersons whom he had expected, but the servants of his partnerShedlock.
Abigail and Zedekiah, without pausing at the door, pushed pasthim to the light, and there turned to salute him. Before theycould carry their purpose into effect, however, Craftall,recovering from his surprise, ventured to inquire their business.
“What seek ye here?” he demanded.
“They be both departed,” answered Abigail. “The crowner’s questsat this morning, and, by their law, _he’s a fellow at sea_.”
“The burying, forsooth, will be at night,” observed Zedekiah,turning up the whites of his eyes. “Verily, a goodly sight!”
“Whom speak ye of, ye fools?” cried Craftall, enraged.
There lay the mystery. They were, indeed, willing to disclosethe items thereof, but who those items referred to was not tobe elicited so easily. Craftall, however, seeing that somethingsingular had happened, persevered in his inquiries; and, in theend, learned from Abigail, who was the more communicative of thetwo, that both Dame Shedlock and her husband had ceased to exist.
The tidings were melancholy, and, by his own account, grieved himexceedingly, but they were not without consolatory points. If,by the death of Shedlock, he had been bereaved of a dear friend,his mental loss might still turn to his personal profit, andhe might augment his fortune with that friend’s possessions.Shedlock, he knew, had left no heir; and, by a little management,which no one would ever inquire into, he might seize on hisproperty, and appear to succeed to it by a lawful right and title.
“I must back with thee out of hand,” he said to Abigail. “We mustlook after the good man’s chattels.”
“The man’s there, and he suffers no lookers,” replied Abigail.
“What man?” demanded Craftall.
“Master Bernard Gray,” answered Abigail.
Craftall changed colour. After a brief pause, however, he seemedto recover himself, and resumed his conversation with Abigail.He then learned, to his surprise, that Bernard had claimed allthe property of his late partner for some unknown heir, and,in pursuance of that claim, had sealed up the papers of thedeceased, and taken possession of his house. His chagrin wasunbounded at this unexpected intelligence. Yet what could he do?Bernard, it was to be feared, acted on authority; and even if hedid not, how could he, whom Bernard could impeach as a recusant,dare to molest him?
While he was pondering how he should proceed, it suddenlyoccurred to him, that, though he could not possess himself ofShedlock’s estate, he might secure his share in their mercantileinvestments, and so increase his wealth even yet more. But wouldBernard be blind to such a glaring fraud? As the inquiry struckhim, he conceived a scheme of aggrandizement also. He remembered,with a smile, that a ship was about to be despatched from Topshamto the plantations, and in her he could bestow all that he couldscrape together, and proceed to a shore beyond Bernard’s reach.
On conceiving this scheme, he briefly dismissed Abigail andZedekiah, and determined to put it on foot without delay. Severaldays elapsed, however, before he could make any progress,although, in the mean time, he spared no effort to carry it fullyout. He arranged with the captain of the vessel, a man afterhis own heart, respecting his passage, and secured his aid inremoving his chattels. But, though the captain afforded him hiscordial support, his project still went on slowly, as it wasexpedient, he thought, that it should be executed by night, so asnot to excite the suspicions of the townspeople. Moreover, theassets of the firm, being invested in various ways, could not bequickly converted into cash, and hence accrued to him anothersource of delay. For a week, however, all went on smoothlyenough, when, one night, as he was sitting in his countinghouse,speculating how he could best dispose of what assets remained, hewas startled by a knock at the door.
He hesitated a moment before he answered the summons, but then,whatever had caused his hesitation, he became reassured, and,without inquiring who was without, he drew the door open. Acavalier, little taller than himself, and muffled in a longcloak, appeared in the doorway, and demanded to know if that werethe residence of Master Craftall.
“It is,” answered Craftall: “I am he.”
“I would speak with thee apart, then,” replied the cavalier.
And though Craftall proffered him no invitation to enter, hepushed rudely by him, and passed into the chamber.
“Be not afeard,” he said; “but close the door. I am a friend.”
There was something in the stranger’s manner that, in spite ofhimself, o
verawed Craftall, and he obeyed his injunction withouthesitation.
“Now, prithee lead me to holy father Paul,” pursued the stranger,when Craftall had closed the door.
The recusant merchant started.
“I tell thee, I am a friend,” continued the stranger. “Were Iaught else, would I come to thee by night, and alone? I am aforeigner, a true son of the church, by name Felix di Corva.”
Craftall pointed to the inner door of the room. “Thou wilt findhim in the chamber beyond,” he said.
Don Felix--for the stranger was indeed he--made no reply, buthastened towards the door pointed at. He did not pause to knock,but, on arriving at the door, opened it at once, and passed in.As he crossed the threshold, he drew the door close behind him.
Craftall remained perfectly still till the door was closed, when,with a stealthy step, he also proceeded thitherwards. On reachingit, however, he did not draw it open, but, bending on one knee,knelt down before it, and applied his ear to the keyhole. Hecontinued in this posture till, after an interval of about halfan hour, a noise within induced him to rise, and retreat to thecontiguous desk. Just as he arrived at the desk, the door wasopened from within, and Don Felix reappeared.
Craftall pretended to be startled on his entry; but the Spaniard,full of other thoughts, took no heed of him, but passed acrossthe chamber in silence. On reaching the outer door, he turnedround, and bade the wondering merchant a good-night.
“God-den, Sir!” replied Craftall. “May our Lady and St. Bridget”--
He paused; for Don Felix, not looking for a response, had passedout, and closed the door in his rear.
On being thus left to himself, Craftall mused a few moments,when, though it was contrary to his habit, he began to deliverhis thoughts aloud.
“A week hence,” he said; “and the holy father is to go the nightafore. ’Twill just serve me. We shall sail the same night.”
Whatever he might refer to, he dismissed the subject with thesewords, and directed his attention to a contiguous heap ofaccounts. He was engaged at the accounts till the night was faradvanced; and the next morning, after having taken only a fewhours’ rest, he turned to them again. Thus he laboured, night andday, with unceasing vigilance, till he found that his scheme wasalmost accomplished, and that he had now only to remove his lasttreasures to the ship.
It was on the sixth morning after the visit of Don Felix thatthis issue came fairly before him. While he was ponderingthereon, he was joined by father Paul, the priest, booted andcloaked for a journey.
“Whither goest thou, holy father?” cried Craftall, with affectedsurprise--for he well knew the priest’s destination.
“To a fold of the faithful,” answered Paul. “But I cannot tarryto speak further; for, by my appointment, a man awaits me now,with a horse, at the city-gate. _Benedicite!_”
“Good morrow!” rejoined Craftall.
The priest had passed out of hearing; and Craftall, now quit ofall impediment, rubbed his hands with glee.
He had the day before him, and he failed not to turn it toaccount. In the first place, he arranged with the captain, whomhe had completely bought over to his interests, to have somesailors at hand that night, at an early hour, to carry off hislast luggage; and, in the mean time, he spared no effort to getthe luggage ready. He laboured so earnestly, that shortly afternightfall, at which time he had appointed the captain to beprepared, his object was achieved, and he only waited the arrivalof the sailors to take his departure. It seemed that fortunefavoured him, for hardly had he finished packing, when, to hisgreat satisfaction, a knock on the outer door, in his rear, ledhim to believe that the sailors were at hand.
“Enter!” he cried.
The door opened, and there entered--not the sailors, but BernardGray.
Craftall drew back as, after throwing-to the door, Bernardapproached him. They had not met since the occasion describedin a former chapter; and though, contrary to his expectations,Bernard had never denounced him to the Government, he had livedin constant apprehension of such a result ever since. Bernard’sappearance at this moment, just as he was on the point ofabsconding, completely took him aback, and he saw him draw nighwithout the power of accosting him.
“Be under no fear!” cried Bernard, perceiving his discomposure.“I have kept thy secret, and will never betray thee!”
Craftall was reassured by these words, albeit, judging ofBernard by himself, he had no notion that they sprang from anysentiment of compassion, but supposed that, though it did notappear on the instant, Bernard was making him an overture,under which he sought to advance some interest of his own. Atanother time he would gladly have associated with Bernard, whileit should serve his purpose, on terms so favourable; but hisobject now was, at any hazard, to get him out of the way, andso have the stage clear for his departure. There was only oneway, he thought, in which such an object could be accomplished;and that was, by betraying his ghostly friend, the priest. Hewould have shrunk from this alternative, indeed, under ordinarycircumstances--not from any feeling of honour, but, what weighedmore with him, from the scruples of superstition; but his dreadof ulterior retribution, if it occurred to him at all, now sankunder his apprehension of present detection.
“I thank thee, good Master Gray,” he said. “’Tis what I lookedfor at thy hands; for a certain friend of mine, one MasterPry, hath commended thee to me in this wise very oft. Truly, Ihave repented me of the evil, and will sin no more. I see thoudoubtest me! But”----
“Peace! peace!” cried Bernard. “I sought thee on another matter,concerning the affairs of thy sometime partner.”
“Anon; we will discourse of them anon,” replied Craftall. “Now,to give thee assurance of my amendment, let me tell thee where,to my knowledge, a seminary-priest is in hiding.”
“Let him be!” returned Bernard. “He hath a licence, no doubt; andeven if he have not, ’twould be a hard matter, I dare affirm, toseize him in the discharge of his functions.”
“I tell thee, he hath no licence,” said Craftall,impatiently--for he expected to be visited by the sailors everymoment. “Moreover, an’ thou wilt be guided by me, thou shaltseize him in the exercise of his office. To-morrow morning, hemarries a cavalier of Spain, one Felix di Corva, to MistressEvaline de Neville.”
Bernard started.
“Art advised of this?” he cried.
“An’ it be not true, denounce me!” exclaimed Craftall, solemnly.
“I must to horse straight, then!” said Bernard. “Here is somedevilry at work!”
He turned away with these words, and, without further speech,made for the door, and darted into the street.
“Ha! ha!” cried Craftall. “’Tis a good deed! ’Tis well done!”
That night he sailed for America.