THE doctor (like me) had his
shoes off. The doctor (like me)
had come in without making the
least noise. He cocked the pistol
without saying a word. I felt
that I was probably standing
face to face with death, and
I too said not a word. We two
Rogues looked each other steadily
and silently in the face--he,
the mighty and prosperous villain,
with my life in his hands: I,
the abject and poor scamp, waiting
his mercy.
It must have been at least
a minute after I heard the click
of the cocked pistol before he
spoke.
"How did you get here?" he
asked.
The quiet commonplace terms
in which he put his question,
and the perfect composure and
politeness of his manner, reminded
me a little of Gentleman Jones.
But the doctor was much the more
respectable-looking man of the
two; his baldness was more intellectual
and benevolent; there was a delicacy
and propriety in the pulpiness
of his fat white chin, a bland
bagginess in his unwhiskered
cheeks, a reverent roughness
about his eyebrows and a fullness
in his lower eyelids, which raised
him far higher, physiognomically
speaking, in the social scale,
than my old prison acquaintance.
Put a shovel-hat on Gentleman
Jones, and the effect would only
have been eccentric; put the
same covering on the head of
Doctor Dulcifer, and the effect
would have been strictly episcopal.
"How did you get here?" he
repeated, still without showing
the least irritation.
I told him how I had got in
at the second-floor window, without
concealing a word of the truth.
The gravity of the situation,
and the sharpness of the doctor's
intellects, as expressed in his
eyes, made anything like a suppression
of facts on my part a desperately
dangerous experiment.
"You wanted to see what I was
about up here, did you?" said
he, when I had ended my confession. "Do
you know?"
The pistol barrel touched my
cheek as he said the last words.
I thought of all the suspicious
objects scattered about the room,
of the probability that he was
only putting this question to
try my courage, of the very likely
chance that he would shoot me
forthwith, if I began to prevaricate.
I thought of these things, and
boldly answered:
"Yes, I do
know."
He looked at me reflectively;
then said, in low, thoughtful
tones, speaking, not to me, but
entirely to himself:
"Suppose I
shoot him?"
I saw in his eye, that if I
flinched, he would draw the trigger.
"Suppose you trust me?" I
said, without moving a muscle.
"I trusted you, as an honest
man, downstairs, and I find you,
like a thief, up here," returned
the doctor, with a self-satisfied
smile at the neatness of his
own retort. "No," he continued,
relapsing into soliloquy: "there
is risk every way; but the least
risk perhaps is to shoot him."
"Wrong," said I. "There are
relations of mine who have a
pecuniary interest in my life.
I am the main condition of a
contingent reversion in their
favor. If I am missed, I shall
be inquired after." I have wondered
since at my own coolness in the
face of the doctor's pistol;
but my life depended on my keeping
my self-possession, and the desperate
nature of the situation lent
me a desperate courage.
"How do I know you are not
lying?" he asked.
"Have I not
spoken the truth, hitherto?"
Those words made him hesitate.
He lowered the pistol slowly
to his side. I began to breathe
freely.
"Trust me," I repeated. "If
you don't believe I would hold
my tongue about what I have seen
here, for your sake, you may
be certain that I would for--"
"For my daughter's," he
interposed, with a sarcastic
smile.
I bowed with all imaginable
cordiality. The doctor waved
his pistol in the air contemptuously.
"There are two ways of making
you hold your tongue," he said. "The
first is shooting you; the second
is making a felon of you. On
consideration, after what you
have said, the risk in either
case seems about equal. I am
naturally a humane man; your
family have done me no injury;
I will not be the cause of their
losing money; I won't take your
life, I'll have your character.
We are all felons on this floor
of the house. You have come among
us--you shall be one of us. Ring
that bell."
He pointed with the pistol
to a bell-handle behind me. I
pulled it in silence.
Felon! The word has an ugly
sound--a very ugly sound. But,
considering how near the black
curtain had been to falling over
the adventurous drama of my life,
had I any right to complain of
the prolongation of the scene,
however darkly it might look
at first? Besides, some of the
best feelings of our common nature
(putting out of all question
the value which men so unaccountably
persist in setting on their own
lives), impelled me, of necessity,
to choose the alternative of
felonious existence in preference
to that of respectable death.
Love and Honor bade me live to
marry Alicia; and a sense of
family duty made me shrink from
occasioning a loss of three thousand
pounds to my affectionate sister.
Perish the far-fetched scruples
which would break the heart of
one lovely woman, and scatter
to the winds the pin-money of
another!
"If you utter one word in contradiction
of anything I say when my workmen
come into the room," said the
doctor, uncocking his pistol
as soon as I had rung the bell, "I
shall change my mind about leaving
your life and taking your character.
Remember that; and keep a guard
on your tongue."
The door opened, and four men
entered. One was an old man whom
I had not seen before; in the
other three I recognized the
workman-like footman, and the
two sinister artisans whom I
had met at the house-gate. They
all started, guiltily enough,
at seeing me.
"Let me introduce you," said
the doctor, taking me by the
arm. "Old File and Young File,
Mill and Screw--Mr. Frank Softly.
We have nicknames in this workshop,
Mr. Softly, derived humorously
from our professional tools and
machinery. When you have been
here long enough, you will get
a nickname, too. Gentlemen," he
continued, turning to the workmen, "this
is a new recruit, with a knowledge
of chemistry which will be useful
to us. He is perfectly well aware
that the nature of our vocation
makes us suspicious of all newcomers,
and he, therefore, desires to
give you practical proof that
he is to be depended on, by making
half-a-crown immediately, and
sending the same up, along with
our handiwork, directed in his
own handwriting, to our estimable
correspondents in London. When
you have all seen him do this
of his own free will, and thereby
put his own life as completely
within the power of the law as
we have put ours, you will know
that he is really one of us,
and will be under no apprehensions
for the future. Take great pains
with him, and as soon as he turns
out a tolerably neat article,
from the simple flatted plates,
under your inspection, let me
know. I shall take a few hours'
repose on my camp-bed in the
study, and shall be found there
whenever you want me."
He nodded to us all round in
the most friendly manner, and
left the room.
I looked with
considerable secret distrust
at the four gentlemen
who were to instruct me in the
art of making false coin. Young
File was the workman-like footman;
Old File was his father; Mill
and Screw were the two sinister
artisans. The man of the company
whose looks I liked least was
Screw. He had wicked little twinkling
eyes--and they followed me about
treacherously whenever I moved. "You
and I, Screw, are likely to quarrel," I
thought to myself, as I tried
vainly to stare him out of countenance.
I entered on my new and felonious
functions forthwith. Resistance
was useless, and calling for
help would have been sheer insanity.
It was midnight; and, even supposing
the windows had not been barred
, the house was a mile from any
human habitation. Accordingly,
I abandoned myself to fate with
my usual magnanimity. Only let
me end in winning Alicia, and
I am resigned to the loss of
whatever small shreds and patches
of respectability still hang
about me--such was my philosophy.
I wish I could have taken higher
moral ground with equally consoling
results to my own feelings.
The same regard for the well-being
of society which led me to abstain
from entering into particulars
on the subject of Old Master-making,
when I was apprenticed to Mr.
Ishmael Pickup, now commands
me to be equally discreet on
the kindred subject of Half-Crown-making,
under the auspices of Old File,
Young File, Mill, and Screw.
Let me merely record that I
was a kind of machine in the
hands of these four skilled workmen.
I moved from room to room, and
from process to process, the
creature of their directing eyes
and guiding hands. I cut myself,
I burned myself, I got speechless
from fatigue, and giddy from
want of sleep. In short, the
sun of the new day was high in
the heavens before it was necessary
to disturb Doctor Dulcifer. It
had absolutely taken me almost
as long to manufacture a half-a-crown
feloniously as it takes a respectable
man to make it honestly. This
is saying a great deal; but it
is literally true for all that.
Looking quite fresh and rosy
after his night's sleep, the
doctor inspected my coin with
the air of a schoolmaster examining
a little boy's exercise; then
handed it to Old File to put
the finished touches and correct
the mistakes. It was afterward
returned to me. My own hand placed
it in one of the rouleaux of
false half-crowns; and my own
hand also directed the spurious
coin, when it had been safely
packed up, to a certain London
dealer who was to be on the lookout
for it by the next night's mail.
That done, my initiation was
so far complete.
"I have sent for your luggage,
and paid your bill at the inn," said
the doctor; "of course in your
name. You are now to enjoy the
hospitality that I could not
extend to you before. A room
upstairs has been prepared for
you. You are not exactly in a
state of confinement; but, until
your studies are completed, I
think you had better not interrupt
them by going out."
"A prisoner!" I
exclaimed aghast.
"Prisoner is a hard word," answered
the doctor. "Let us say, a guest
under surveillance."
"Do you seriously mean that
you intend to keep me shut up
in this part of the house, at
your will and pleasure?" I inquired,
my heart sinking lower and lower
at every word I spoke.
"It is very spacious and airy," said
the doctor; "as for the lower
part of the house, you would
find no company there, so you
can't want to go to it."
"No company!" I
repeated faintly.
"No. My daughter
went away this morning for
change of air
and scene, accompanied by my
housekeeper. You look astonished,
my dear sir--let me frankly explain
myself. While you were the respectable
son of Doctor Softly, and grandson
of Lady Malkinshaw, I was ready
enough to let my daughter associate
with you, and should not have
objected if you had married her
off my hands into a highly-connected
family. Now, however, when you
are nothing but one of the workmen
in my manufactory of money, your
social position is seriously
altered for the worse; and, as
I could not possibly think of
you for a son-in-law, I have
considered it best to prevent
all chance of your communicating
with Alicia again, by sending
her away from this house while
you are in it. You will be in
it until I have completed certain
business arrangements now in
a forward state of progress--after
that, you may go away if you
please. Pray remember that you
have to thank yourself for the
position you now stand in; and
do me the justice to admit that
my conduct toward you is remarkably
straightforward, and perfectly
natural under all the circumstances."
These words fairly overwhelmed
me. I did not even make an attempt
to answer them. The hard trials
to my courage, endurance, and
physical strength, through which
I had passed within the last
twelve hours, had completely
exhausted all my powers of resistance.
I went away speechless to my
own room; and when I found myself
alone there, burst out crying.
Childish, was it not?
When I had been rested and
strengthened by a few hours'
sleep, I found myself able to
confront the future with tolerable
calmness.
What would it be best for me
to do? Ought I to attempt to
make my escape? I did not despair
of succeeding; but when I began
to think of the consequences
of success, I hesitated. My chief
object now was, not so much to
secure my own freedom, as to
find my way to Alicia. I had
never been so deeply and desperately
in love with her as I was now,
when I knew she was separated
from me. Suppose I succeeded
in escaping from the clutches
of Doctor Dulcifer--might I not
be casting myself uselessly on
the world, without a chance of
finding a single clew to trace
her by? Suppose, on the other
hand, that I remained for the
present in the red-brick house--should
I not by that course of conduct
be putting myself in the best
position for making discoveries?
In the first place, there was
the chance that Alicia might
find some secret means of communicating
with me if I remained where I
was. In the second place, the
doctor would, in all probability,
have occasion to write to his
daughter, or would be likely
to receive letters from her;
and, if I quieted all suspicion
on my account, by docile behavior,
and kept my eyes sharply on the
lookout, I might find opportunities
of surprising the secrets of
his writing-desk. I felt that
I need be under no restraints
of honor with a man who was keeping
me a prisoner, and who had made
an accomplice of me by threatening
my life. Accordingly, while resolving
to show outwardly an amiable
submission to my fate, I determined
at the same time to keep secretly
on the watch, and to take the
very first chance of outwitting
Doctor Dulcifer that might happen
to present itself. When we next
met I was perfectly civil to
him. He was too well-bred a man
not to match me on the common
ground of courtesy.
"Permit me to congratulate
you," he said, "on the improvement
in your manner and appearance.
You are beginning well, Francis.
Go on as you have begun."
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