University of Virginia Library

26. CHAPTER XXVI.
BEGINNING OF THE END.

With an exclamation of surprise, both Newton and
Rosalind instantly started to their feet; while Sir Walter,
convulsively clutching the jewels which Mrs. Wyndham extended
to him, exclaimed:

“Speak! explain!”

“I found this in the box of a Jew pedlar, who was showing
his wares to the servants,” replied the Governess.

“Bring him here! bring him here!” cried the Knight,
fairly breathless with excitement.

“Quick! quick! show him to me!” exclaimed Stanhope.

“This way, then!” rejoined the Governess; and she
darted from the room, followed by the excited lover.

In a few minutes, Dr. Stanhope returned, fairly dragging
into the library the terrified pedlar. He was a
small man, about thirty years of age, with black eyes, hair,
and beard, and a very dark complexion. He hastily
glanced at the Knight, Rosalind, Mrs. Wyndham, and Stanhope,
and then at the servants, who now filled the doorway,
and an expression of cowardly despair settled upon his
features, as one who felt convinced that his last hour had
come.

“Speak, Jew!” said the Baronet, holding up the necklace—“where
got you this?”

“I puyed it—so helps me Fader Abr'ams!” answered the
pedlar.

“Who sold it to you?” demanded the Knight.

“Vell, it vash a mans—so helps me Moses!”

“Are you sure you did not steal it?” cried Stanhope.

“Yaas—I knows I paid monish for it.”

“Let me explain!” said Sir Walter, who saw how
frightened the pedlar really was, and thought he might the
sooner arrive at the truth, by letting the Jew know what
had occurred, and what was really required of him.
“A few weeks ago,” he went on, “my house was robbed
in the night, of many valuable articles, of which this is
one; and a little girl, living with us at the time, was
taken away, and has never since been heard of. We fear
she has been murdered, and we are anxious to trace out the
burglar and homicide. If you bought this, as you say,
you must tell of whom you purchased it, or we shall be
compelled to hand you over to the police. Now make a
clean breast of all you know; and if you are innocent, you
shall not be harmed.”

“I ish innocents ash de pabes as vash never porns!” replied
the Jew.

“Well, speak!” cried Stanhope, impatiently; “and to
the point! Do you know where you got that necklace?”

“Yaas—I knows de mans himshelf—he ish a constaples.”

“Who is he? where is he? can you show him to me?”
demanded Stanhope.

“Yaas—you comes mit me, and I shows him.”

“Quick, then—let us begone!” rejoined the young
physician.

“Take the carriage, Doctor,” cried the Knight—“and
let not the Jew escape! Quick, John, (to the coachman,
who was standing at the door,) put to the horses! And,
Stanhope, drive first to a Magistrate's, and get out a warrant,
and take along an officer, for the apprehension of
the guilty party. Oh!” he continued, rising in great excitement—“at

last we may unravel this awful mystery!
I would willingly give half my fortune to see that child returned!”

“If in human power, and Ellen Norbury lives, you shall
see her restored to you!” cried Stanhope.

“Who? who did you say?” fairly shrieked Sir Walter.

In the excitement of the moment, the surname of the
little orphan had passed the unguarded lips of Newton, and
he now trembled for the consequences.

“I mean little Ellen,” he hastened to reply, first turning
pale with alarm, and then flushing with confusion.

“But you said Ellen Norbury, sir!” cried the Baronet,
catching hold of his daughter, to support his tottering
frame, and looking wildly from one to another of those
present. “Did he not? did he not? did he not?” he
hastily demanded, appealing to each in turn.

“Pray, dear father, be calm!” said Rosalind, gently.

“I was thinking of Norbury, sir!” rejoined Stanhope—
“for you had yourself so recently mentioned the name.”

“Don't try to deceive me, sir!” cried the Baronet,
almost wild with excitement. “And you are trying to do
so now, sir! I can see it in your tell-tale face. Speak!
is her last name Norbury?”

Newton glanced despairingly at Rosalind, who hastened
to answer:

“Dear, dear father, be calm; try and be composed,
and I will answer.”

“Well then—well then—speak!”

“Her last name is Norbury.”

“The daughter of William?”

“Yes, dear father.”

“The niece of the murdered James!” shrieked the
Knight. “Oh! great God! how wonderful are thy mysterious
workings! Ah! I saw it, but did not know it—I

felt it, but did not know it;” and staggering back, he
sunk down on the lounge, and groaned. “Why did you
not tell me this when she was with us?” he asked, after a
short but painful silence.

“Because I was afraid it would be too great a shock for
you, dear father!” answered Rosalind; “and you know
you had forbidden the mention of the name of Norbury in
your hearing.”

“I am to blame for all this!” said Stanhope, with deep
self-reproach.

“No, sir!” returned the Baronet, quickly; “the blame
is not with you, but with me—the crime was not with you,
but with me. Rosalind, do you think I did any thing to
drive her away from me?”

“No, dear father—no—I know you did not.”

“Oh, God! restore her to me!” he ejaculated; “and
let me make some atonement to the living for the wrongs
done to the dead! Go, Newton Stanhope; and spare
neither time nor money, to clear up this terrible mystery!
Here, take this necklace—it may be of service. If she
be among the living, and you bring her not, then never
hope to look upon my face again.”

And as Stanhope hurried from the library, with the
pedlar, the Knight added, in a feeble tone:

“This is a strange secret I have learned, and it affects
me much, Rosalind. I feel weak—very weak. Help me
to bed.”

Rosalind, with a sad heart—for she trembled at the probable
result of so severe a shock to her father's nervous
system—assisted him into an adjoining room; and the
moment he touched the bed, he said:

“Now go, my daughter—I would be alone, till Dr. Stanhope
returns.”

“But, dear father, you are far from well,” replied Rosalind;

“will you not permit me to visit you, every hour,
to learn how you feel?”

“Yes, Rosalind, to please you, I will.”

“Thank you, dear, dear father!” returned the noble
daughter; and throwing her arms around his neck, she
kissed him, and retired.

“Heaven bless her!” murmured the Knight, as she
disappeared.

Dr. Stanhope paced the court impatiently, till the carriage
was ready; when he hurried the pedlar into it, and
sprung in after him. The driver now received his instructions,
and drove with all speed to the office of a
Magistrate, where Newton lodged his complaint, and, on
the affidavit of the Jew, got a warrant issued for the apprehension
of Patrick Cafferty. An officer to serve it was
readily procured, and the parties were rapidly driven to
the residence of the guilty Constable. It was not far
from the hour of noon; and it so chanced that Pat, having
nothing better to do, had just come home to get his dinner.
The officer, leaving Stanhope and the Jew in the carriage,
knocked at the door, and Pat himself opened it, looking as
innocent as it was in the nature of things for so mean a
little man to look. He recognised the officer with a smile;
for the presence of one of his profession, so far from giving
him the least alarm, excited some brilliant anticipations of
a clever undertaking, in which he himself might probably
figure as the “dread constabble of the law.”

“The top of the morning to ye, Misther Barlow, if it's
not too late for that same!” he said. “And, sure, it's
tak'ng a ride ye is, in style, jist!” he added, glancing at
the carriage.

“Yes, and a fine day for a ride it is, Mr. Cafferty,”
replied Barlow. “I would like you to come with me.”

“Arrah, now! and it's mesilf as was t'inking that same,

so I was. It's wanting me sarvices, ye is, Misther Barlow?”
and he winked knowingly.

“Exactly so.”

“It's me dinner time, so it is; but it's mesilf as'll not
mind that now. I'll git me hat, jist; and lave the owld
woman and childers to spile the praties, so I will.”

He hastened for his hat; and the next minute entered
the carriage, followed by Officer Barlow.

“Agh!” said Pat, as his eye fell on the Jew pedlar;
“so it's yersilf, is it, that's the tief now? Och! sure, and
wasn't it knowing, I was, ye'd come to this at last, ye
vagabond!”

“You ish more tiefs ash me!” replied the pedlar, indignantly.

“Shut up now, ye spalpeen!” cried Pat, savagely.
“Sure, and it's down below ye'll be afther going, for yer
insults to mesilf, the dread constabble of the law, whilst
doing me duthy to me counthry, so ye will!”

“Stop!” said Barlow: “I will have no quarrelling here.
We shall soon see who is the thief.”

Pat Cafferty leaned proudly back on his seat, and looked
triumphantly at the pedlar, as much as to say:

“D'ye hear that now, ye spalpeen?”

Arrived at the Magistrate's office, the whole party entered
the little room together, Pat Cafferty evidently
swelling with importance.

“Good day to your Honor!” he said, making what he
considered a very dignified bow.

“Good day, Patrick!” replied the Alderman. And
then immediately added: “This is a very serious charge
against you, sir!”

“Aginst me, your Honor?” exclaimed the Constable, in
astonishment. “It's aginst the Jew, it's like, your Honor
manes, now?”

“No, sir, against yourself!” rejoined the Alderman,
sternly. “And the more shame to you, if the charge be
true; for it always makes me blush for human depravity,
when I see a man, authorized to execute the laws, breaking
them himself! The poor, starving wretch, who steals
bread to appease the hunger of himself and family, I can
excuse in my heart, even when obliged, by the law, to
commit him to prison; but I can find no excuse, and no
sympathy, for a man in your position, who commits a
felony.”

Pat turned pale, and looked inquiringly at Barlow.

“You are under arrest,” said that officer, “and here is
the warrant for your apprehension.”

“You are accused,” pursued the Magistrate, “of felonously
taking these jewels from the house of Walter Clendennan;”
and he displayed, to the astonished gaze of Pat
Cafferty, the necklace of Rosalind.

“And sure, your Honor, who accuses mesilf of that
same?” faltered Pat, beginning to grow much alarmed.

This gentleman—Dr. Stanhope—has made oath, that
this necklace, with much other valuable property, was
felonously taken, in the night, from the house of the person
named; and Mr. Isaacs, here, a pedlar, has also made oath,
that he purchased it from you, some three weeks ago.”

“He's a Jew, your Honor, and a dape liar, so he is!”
rejoined Pat, with a half resolve to brave it out.

“That may be,” said the Alderman; “but his testimony
is good for the present; and in the meantime I must hold
you to answer to the charge.”

“Will your Honor permit me to say a few words to Mr.
Cafferty?” now inquired Stanhope.

“Certainly, sir—certainly.”

“Mr. Cafferty,” said the physician, addressing the
Constable, “I do not know whether you are guilty or not;

but one thing is certain—these valuable jewels were felonously
taken from the house of Mr. Clendennan, as his
Honor has informed you; and I will add, what his Honor
has not told you, that a little girl, some ten or eleven years
of age, who was living with the family at the time, has
ever since been missing, and it is supposed she has been
murdered; and as these jewels may lead to the detection
of a burglar, if not a homicide, and also to the clearing up
of a terrible mystery, you see how important it is that we
should trace them to the hand which took them. Now, if
you, which is not unreasonable to suppose, received them
from some person, not knowing them to be stolen property,
you will probably clear yourself, and further the ends of
justice, by stating from whom you got them. Do not
think,” he added, as he saw the Constable hesitate, “that
this affair will blow over lightly; for it involves the fate
of a child who has wealthy friends; and now that we are
on the right track, no time nor money will be spared, in
the investigation of the mystery, until her fate shall be
known.”

“And sure, and what's her name, jist?” inquired Pat,
scratching his head, and looking a good deal perplexed.

“Ellen Norbury,” answered Stanhope.

“Och! sure, and she's the tief hersilf, jist!” cried Pat,
thrown off his guard.

“Impossible!” said Stanhope.

“Troth! and it's thrue, now, so it is!”

“How do you know?”

“Agh! and wasn't it mesilf as arristed the likes of her,
I'm axing? and didn't I tak her down below, now?”

“Is she alive, and in prison?” cried Stanhope, breathless
with excitement.

“Sure, and she is that same.”

“Thank God! ejaculated the other, fervently: “at last
the poor child is found.”

“Then I suppose you received the necklace from the
child in question?” said the Alderman, addressing the
Constable.

Pat, seeing himself caught on his own confession, turned
all sorts of colors—or rather, all shades of one color—and
after looking as much meaner than Pat Cafferty in general,
as Pat Cafferty in general looked meaner than an honest
man, he stammered:

“Sure, your Honor—she—she gave it to—to mesilf—to
lit let her go, jist.”

“Which you were too conscientious to do?”

“Yis, your Honor—that's it, your Honor.”

“But you were not too conscientious to receive the
property, believing it to be stolen, and dispose of it for
your own benefit!” pursued the Magistrate, sternly.
“Patrick Cafferty, this is a shameful business, and you are
a disgrace to your office! I shall hold you in two thousand
dollars bail, to answer at court.”

“Is it possible, your Honor, for me to get this child
out of prison at once?” inquired the young physician,
anxiously.

“What was the charge against her, Patrick?” demanded
the Alderman of the Constable.

“She was put down for a vagrant, jist, I'm t'inking,”
answered Pat, dolefully.

“It will be an easy matter, then, to get her released,”
said the magistrate to Stanhope; and he was about to give
him instructions how to proceed, when Mr. Shelden entered
the office.

“Ah! Mr. Shelden,” cried the Doctor, joyfully—“you
are the very man I want to see.”

“Allow me to return the compliment,” said Shelden,
with a quiet smile.

“At last I have news of Ellen Norbury.”

“Indeed!”

“She is in the Moyamensing Prison.”

“I know it.”

“You have heard, then?”

“I saw her yesterday.”

“You did not tell me!”

“I have not seen you since, and I intended an agreeable
surprise for you.”

“How shall we get her out?”

“I have her discharge in my hand.”

“Explain!”

In visiting the prison yesterday, I came across a sweet
little creature; and you may judge of my surprise, on
learning that she was the very one for whom we have been
so anxiously searching! This morning, I waited upon the
villainous Alderman—who committed her for no other
crime than poverty—and by paying him his extortions,
have obtained her discharge. I am now on my way to set
her free.”

“Quick, then—let us go—I have a carriage at the
door.”

“In a moment.”

Mr. Shelden now addressed a few words to the Alderman;
who answered, “Certainly, certainly, sir!” and immediately
placed his signature to a paper which the other
handed him.

“Now then, Dr. Stanhope, I am at your service,” said
Shelden; and both hurried from the office.

The Jew was required to find five hundred dollars bail,
to appear against Cafferty; which he very readily procured,
and went about his business. But the miserable Con

stable was not so fortunate. He wrote to his best friend,
Alderman McGrabby, telling him how he was situated, and
imploring him to come to his release. The Alderman came,
but not to his release; for on learning the whole particulars,
he not only refused to enter the required security, but
gave vent to his outraged feelings in a long strain of the
most virtuous indignation—enough, in fact, to have lasted
any ordinarily moral individual a life-time.

The truth was, Pat Cafferty, in the opinion of Felix
McGrabby, had been guilty of a most enormous crime—not
in stealing the necklace from little Ellen—for that, in his
view, was all right and proper for a Constable to do—but
in stealing, and keeping, and selling it, without making a
fair division of the spoil. For this crime of ingratitude,
Pat soon found himself snugly confined in a snug little cell
of the County Prison; where, for several days, he was left
to ruminate upon his chances of ultimately becoming one
of the chief functionaries of the District of Moyamensing.[1]

But unfortunately for the public good, the vile Constable
was bailed out all too soon, by McGrabby himself—who,
being guilty of some nefarious transactions, thought it the
better policy to be friends with one who might possibly take
it into his head to turn state's evidence. We may add in
this connection, that, what between scoundrels in office and
out, colinked in the common cause of party, Patrick
Cafferty was never brought to trial for the larceny of the
necklace; but being one night detected in a daring burglary,
of his own planning, he was arrested, committed, tried, and

convicted, and is now, we are happy to state, serving out
his time in the Eastern Penitentiary, where there is still
room for a few more of the same stamp. He narrowly
escaped being pardoned by a notorious Governor, whose
term of office fortunately expired the day before his conviction.
Felix McGrabby still lives, outside the walls of a
prison; but eagle eyes are upon him, and the voice of an
outraged public has startled him into a show of propriety.
Let him beware! for another misstep may plunge him down
a dark abyss.