University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

Early on the evening following the events detailed in the last
chapter, Duncan Powell impatient to learn the result of his visit
to Kirkwood, was at the Jew's. Jacob had not yet arrived; and, resolving
to wait for him, he asked for Ruth, and was ushered up
stairs into the sumptuously furnished family apartments. The
young Jewess was alone, and received him with a smile and evident
pleasure. An hour flew rapidly by, by which time Duncan
had come to the conclusion, that to take such a lovely maiden to
wife was not so great a sacrifice, after all, even without the motive
which he had in view; and he felt quite happy, both with the prospect
of receiving his fortune, and with the anticipation of sporting
the lovely Jewess as his bride. There was a novelty in the idea,
that was not ungratifying to his notions of things, as a fashionable
rouf, and he began to be impatient for the realization of Jacob's
wishes. Suddenly the drawing-room door was opened, and the Jew
appeared in the door, unannounced. Duncan, at the moment, was
bending low over Ruth, who was seated by her harp, with the silent
chords of which her fingers were idly playing, with a blush enriching
the olive brown of her cheek.

The eyes of the money-lender were fixed sternly upon them both;
and Duncan, with a fainting heart, saw that his face was dark and
gloomy. He augured no good from its expression, and the warm
welcome with which he was about to advance towards him was
chilled, and he stood gazing upon him with a blanched cheek and
an eager, inquiring look.

`Ruth, go to your chamber!' said the Jew, in a harsh voice.

His eye followed her retreating form as she retired, trembling,
without daring to reply, or even to take a parting glance at Duncan,
who began to experience sensations creeping through his bosom of
no enviable kind.

`Mr. Powell,' now said the Jew, with a sardonic smile, `if you
are quite at leisure I should be happy to see you in my room below.'

Duncan, under any other circumstances, would have resented the
insulting manner of the money-lender; but a painfully wretched
misgiving that all was wrong, and that his only hope was in the
Jew, led him to follow him silently to the mean apartment below
stairs, where he transacted business.

`Now, Mr. Powell,' said Jacob, after he had closed the door and
each was seated, `I will report to you my mission.'

He then briefly detailed to the surprised and miserable young
man what is already known to the reader. Duncan rose from his
chair when he had concluded, and walked the narrow floor with
wild agitation! The intelligence of the death of his father scarcely
affected him, coupled as it was with the conviction, that he was
beggared! He cursed his dead parent, himself, the Jew, and the
charitable institution, which had stepped between him and his patrimony!
Jacob in the mean while sat quietly taking huge pinches
of snuff, and waiting for the storm of passion to subside. At length
Duncan reseated himself, and looking at Jacob with a countenance
distorted with suffering, eloquently begged him to tell him what
he should do!

`Betake yourself to some honest livelihood,' said the money-lender,
quietly, and thrusting his nose into a handful of snuff, to
conceal a malicious smile.

`Madness! Is there nothing left for me? No money—no property?'
he asked, with a voice of despair, faintly struggling with
hope.

`No. You are a beggar!' said Jacob, composedly.

`I see I am ruined! Cannot this will be recovered and destroyed?'

he suddenly asked in a low tone, coming close to the money-lender,
and speaking in his ear.

`This is possible!' answered Jacob, his dark eyes lighting up at
the thought. `If it could be before it is recorded, you are safe!
The lawyer who brought it came down on the same boat! I knew
him, and watched him closely, if by any chance it might not fall
from his pocket! But he was too wary.'

`Did he have it in his pocket, loose?'

`No; it was put in his pocket-book, where he kept his briefs.'

`Can it be yet on record?'

`No. It cannot be done before tomorrow.'

`Then I will have it this night. Who is he?'

`Edward Stone, Esq. But it is impossible to obtain it.'

`Nothing is difficult to the desperate. Can you tell me where
he lives? It will be likely to be with him at his house.'

The Jew opened a directory that hung behind him, and running
over the names, answered, `He lives at No. 62 Greenwich street;
his office No. 41 Nassau street. But this is a bold step! Let me
caution you, for I can guess your intentions! He is a bold and
fearless man, and failure would place you worse off than you now
are.'

Duncan made no reply. His mind was full of a dark and desperate
purpose. He rose up and placed his cap upon his head, and
gathered his cloak about his features.

`This is my last hope,' he said, in a deep, determined tone of
voice.

`If you fail, Mr. Powell,' said the Jew, `I beg you will recollect
that I am not implicated in the matter.'

`True, most righteous Jew; and if I succeed, I shall recollect,
he added, sarcastically, `that I am not implicated with your daughter.'

Jacob colored, and bit his lip with vexation, as the door closed
upon the disinherited young man. He stood reflecting for a moment,
and his impulse was, in revenge for his bitter taunt, to forewarn
the attorney by an anonymous note that an attempt would be made
that night to prevent the will being placed on record. But he reflected
a moment, that if Duncan did succeed, that he would be
likely to want his assistance in converting his acres into money,
and the risk of losing such a profitable business made him resolve
to let the affair take its course.

Duncan walked along the street toward his lodgings, for some time
undecided what first step to take, to effect his object! He had no
one that he could consult with; no one of his associates that he
could place confidence in. Anger, grief, resentment, and a dark purpose
of murder, brooded in his heart. He shrunk from the contemplation
of blood-shedding; but he firmly resolved, in his soul, that
even the attorney's life should not stand between him and the possession
of the will! He hastened to his room, and, shutting himself
in, deliberated awhile by what expedient he should get it into
his hands before the morrow. The clock struck nine, and his face
instantly assumed an expression of decision. Approaching his
escritorie, he rapidly penned the following note:

This morsel of falsehood was addressed to Edward Stone, Esq.
and sealed. Duncan then entered his room, and, taking off his coat,
threw over himself Peter's livery great-coat, with a dozen capes to
it, mounted his hat with a broad white band around, and then placed
a dagger in his bosom, and armed himself with a heavily loaded
stick.

`I think I shall do this errand better than another,' he said, almost
with fierceness.

Locking his door, and taking the key in his pocket, he availed
himself of an opportunity when the hall was clear to reach the
street unobserved. He took his way along the darkest side of the
ways, and at length stood opposite the door he sought. Crimson
curtains before the tall windows glowed richly with the warm
light reflected from the parlor within, and, listening, he heard voices
in conversation, and then the notes of a piano rising above all. He
hesitated but an instant, and then with unwavering purpose ascended
the steps and rung the bell. It was answered by a servant,
who replied in the affirmative to Duncan's question, if Mr. Stone
were within.

`Hand him that note.'

The parlor door opened very soon after the servant had taken it
in, and a stout, well-formed man came with a quick step to the
door with the note open in his hand.

`A moment, and I will follow you, my man,' he said, returning
to give some directions. `Who is ill?'

`A stranger, sir!' said Duncan, shading his face.

The next moment they were in the street. Duncan led the way
in silence until he came to Thames street, up which dark and dangerous
alley he turned, saying,—

`We will take this way, if you please sir, as it is nighest.'

The attorney admitted this,—and Duncan falling back, as if from
respect, permitted him to precede him. It was the desperate young
man's intention, in writing the note, to get him to follow him, as he
had now successfully done, and in this alley knock him down and
rob him of the paper he sought to get possession of. For this purpose
he now dropped behind. They came to the spot he had selected
in his mind as the most likely to cover the deed, and had
raised his bludgeon for the purpose, when the door of an adjoining
groggery was opened, and a glaring light thrown across the lane
upon both their persons. The next moment the attorney was beyond
the dark precincts, and, with curses upon his ill fortune, Duncan
followed till they reached Broadway undecided how to act. At
length his desperate mind resolved upon a course as daring as it
was characteristic of his reckless position. With a lighter step,
therefore, he went on before him, and boldly led the way to his
chambers. He unlocked them, and, ushering the attorney, privately
drew the key, and placing it within, secured the door.

`Be seated, sir, if you please,' he said, as the lawyer glanced his
quick eye over the handsomely furnished apartment, and the articles
of luxury strewn around.

Duncan immediately withdrew into his own apartment, and,
throwing aside the livery he had worn, resumed his ordinary appearance.
He however retained the dagger, and, examining the
caps of a pair of pistols, placed one of them in the pocket of his
coat. In his eye glowed resolution, and on his closed mouth dwelt
a calmness of purpose, that gave singular sternness to his pale
countenance. He paced the chamber once or twice with a hurried
step—paused, as if to nerve himself to his purpose, and throwing
open the door, stood in the lawyer's presence!

The attorney rose and bowed, for the face of Duncan was wholly
unknown to him—then stared at the wild eye and colorless face
of the young man, and for a moment the idea flashed across his
mind that a meditated suicidest had sent for him to make his will!

`I am unknown to you,' said the disinherited young man, speaking
in a low, sharp key through his shut lips.

`Quite so, I assure you, sir; this is the first time I have had the
honor of being in your company!' answered the attorney, wondering
who his strange client might happen to be. `I was sent for to
—to make a gentleman's will, I believe! But there must be some
error certainly—unless some other gentleman—'

`I addressed you that note, sir,' said Duncan, in a tone of steady
fierceness, that made the lawyer start and survey him with surprise,
and with not a little alarmed suspicion.

`Who are you, sir?'

`The disinherited son of Beasely Powell,' replied Duncan, in a
hoarse whisper, bending forward till his hot breath touched the
cheek of the attorney.

`What would you with me?' demanded the lawyer, in a firm voice.

`My father's late will, which I have reason to know you have
about your person!' he said, levelling his pistol at his heart.

`Ha! I am betrayed by a conspiracy! Now I know who my
assailant was at the gate at Kirkwood! This will not answer, Mr.
Powell!' said the attorney; and he sprung forward to wrest the
pistol from him. But Duncan, more active than the Jew had been,
avoided him, and, retreating, cocked it. Mr. Stone, with surprise,
now recognized him to be the footman!

`By the God who rules the universe, I will take your life unless
you quietly deliver it into my possession! I know it is with you.'

`It is,' answered the lawyer, quietly.

Give it to me, if you value life! My patrimony shall not be
torn from my grasp without an effort to recover possession of it!
I am a desperate man, Mr. Stone!'

The attorney seemed to reflect, and to feel the critical position
in which he was placed. At length he spoke, and said,—

`I pity you, Mr. Powell, and your lot is a hard one. But doubtless
you are much to blame. If I surrender this will to you, it will
scarcely benefit you, as another similar one will assuredly replace it!'

`This matters not. The will, or your life!' sternly repeated the
young man, and he displayed in his left hand the dagger he had hid
in his bosom. `You see, sir, I am fully prepared to take it by force.

The lawyer surveyed him a moment, as he stood within seven
feet of him, with a cocked pistol in one hand, the dagger clutched
in the other, his eyes flashing, his teeth set, and his whole attitude
like that of a tiger on the spring! The attorney was a man of
firm nerves and cool courage; but he was unarmed, and felt no disposition
to put his life in jeopardy to save an instrument which he
resolved, within twenty-four hours, to have renewed! He therefore
drew forth the parchment, and said, quietly,—

`There is the instrument, sir, for which you have descended to
play the bully and assassin. I trust now, sir, you will suffer me to
retire unmolested!' As he spoke he placed the will upon a table
that stood between them.

`Open it, sir, that I may see the signature!' said the desperate
young man, still covering his heart with his cocked pistol.

The attorney did so; and Duncan, seeing his father's well known
signature affixed to the paper, seized it, and, thrusting his dagger
through it, cried, in a tone of triumph, as he prepared to destroy it,—

`Now is Kirkwood mine, sir attorney; know that my father died
lest night, and no other will can replace this, as you foolishly hoped.'

Ere the words were scarcely uttered to the astonished ears of
the lawyer, and before Duncan could tear the stout parchment, the
pistol he carelessly held was knocked from his grasp, the hand
holding the dagger was seized by the strong arm of the attorney,
and a deadly struggle took place for the possession of the will.
Duncan was thrown to the floor, and fell beneath the lawyer, who
had twice been slightly wounded by the point of the weapon; but
the grasp of the young man upon the parchment was like that of a
vice,—while, at every opportunity he could get in the fierce contest,
he would tear off a portion with his teeth, with the fell determination
for its destruction uppermost in his mind. Thrice the
young man lay beneath the attorney, and thrice he had the attorney
under him. Duncan's dagger hand was still held firmly by him,
though his efforts to stab him were as determined as his endeavors
to destroy the will; while the lawyer had the two objects in view,
both of saving the will and his own life. At length both rose to
their feet again, and stood for a moment facing each other, one of
the hands of Duncan with the will in it upon the lawyer's throat;
the other, containing the dagger, held by the attorney aloft in the
air, who with his other hand firmly grasped the throat of Powell.

They stood eyeing one another a few seconds, when Duncan, releasing
his throat, flung the will behind him. Instantly the attorney
sprung for it, inadvertently leaving his dagger hand free! With
a cry of vindictive joy the young man bounded towards him with
the flashing steel. A low mirror, beneath a pier-table directly before
the attorney, revealed to him his imprudence and imminent
peril; and, throwing himself over upon his side, the dagger descended
and buried itself through the carpet deep into the floor
where he had been stooping. The force of the blow threw the assassin
down, and broke the dagger short to the hilt. Duncan, with
a deep oath, recovered his feet to see the attorney with the parchment
in one hand and his pistol in the other, confronting him. The
scales were now reversed, and he felt himself to be in the other's
power. He stood silent and gloomy, with his eyes fixed upon the
ground. The attorney surveyed him a few seconds, and then said,
sternly,—

`I trust, Mr. Powell, you will now be content to let me retain
possession of this will. Your life is in my hands; but I have no
disposition to avail myself of my privilege, either at this moment
or at any other period. You are free to go where you please! I
shall take the liberty of protecting myself to my house with your
pistol, when it is at your service. You have been guilty of a bold
proceeding to-night; but I can sympathise with your disappointment
in being deprived of your patrimony, but I have no power to
assist you. In defending and rescuing this will I have but done my
duty as its trustee. In consideration of your great disappointment,
I freely forgive your assault upon me, and the two or three scratches
you have given me in our rencontre. Trusting you will yet find
some pursuit in life congenial with your happiness, I shall now
take my leave of you.'

Duncan was humbled, yet vexed by this speech. His ill success
rankled deep in his bosom, and his soul was dark with despair.
The moderation of the attorney gave him a ray of hope.

`Mr. Stone,' he said, in a subdued tone, `I am glad that you can
appreciate my position,—educated with the anticipation of the
possession of a large fortune, and accustomed to a life of luxury, to
find myself all at once a beggar! Sir, I throw myself upon that
generous disposition which you have just now evinced, and beg
you will —'

`Mr. Powell, I have no power to do any thing less than this will
commands.'

`Then let me appeal to your interests! To no one save yourself
and me is the existence of this will known. If you will destroy
it, I will give you half of my fortune! There is the flame!
One motion of your hand will enrich you! The secret shall perish
in its ashes!'

`You cannot tempt me, sir,' said the attorney, yet gazing at the
lamp with a wishful eye; `this will must be recorded!' And, as
if fearing to trust himself to the influence of further temptation, he
thrust the parchment within his vest, and buttoned his coat over
it, and, advancing to the door with the pistol still presented towards
the young man and turning the key, said,—

`Good night, Mr. Powell, and then added, firmly,' If you follow
me, or make any demonstration of attempting to recover this will,
I will shoot you down!'

Thus speaking, the attorney opened the door to go out, and found
himself in the centre of a crowd of servants, and others, whom
the struggle had brought without! Duncan's eye fell on them, and
in a voice of thunder he asked what was wanted, sternly bade them
begone, and closed the door in their faces! The attorney was followed
with numerous inquiries; but, hastily putting up his pistol,
and replying, `Nothing, nothing — merely boxing and fencing,'
found his way out, and feeling greatly relieved, when he found himself
once more safe in Broadway.

The fate of Duncan Powell was now decided! He felt it to be
so; and rage, despair, and grief by turns filled his breast, as hour
after hour he paced his chamber after the departure of the attorney
He could form in his mind no course of action. All before him
was dark and fearful to contemplate. His wounded pride and vanity
goaded him to horror! His career of wild extravagance had
now forever terminated; for not even the guilt of murder he had
attempted could save him! He threw himself upon the bed in a
fever of terrible excitement, and the idea of suicide flashed upon
his mind; for he felt he had not the moral courage to meet his fall!
But he feared to die too; and thus he tossed upon his bed till the
roar of wheels along the streets told him it was morning. He rose
up haggard and wretched! He shut himself up, and sending for
the Jew told him what had transpired; and then, during the day,
made arrangements with him to dispose of his horses and Stanhope,
and other appendages to his style, for ready money. After all his
debts were paid, he found he had three hundred dollars left,—all his
worldly wealth! Up to this time he had formed no plan of conduct.
He arranged his affairs only to save the disgrace of being
compelled to. All this occupied two days, and he was now alone
upon the world,—an adventurer! He sought the Jew to ask his
counsel; but the cautious Jacob refused to see him! The money-lender
had drawn all the blood from that vein, and, like the repleted
leech, dropped his hold upon it! It was evening when Duncan
was thus turned from his door, and with a dark bosom he sauntered
up the streets, with the vacant gaze of hopeless despair! A light
from the hall door leading to the gambling chambers he had frequented,
caught his glazed eye. He turned aside, and ascended to
the rooms! His presence was welcomed by the banker with a
smile, and he found that his poverty had not yet been bruited
abroad. He had three hundred dollars with him, and desperately
resolved to venture it, recklessly feeling that if he could not gain
more, he would lose all!

`Better to be a beggar at once,' he said, inwardly, `than live thus
in uncertainty and in fears!'

The fortune of the time favored him, and he won nearly every
bet; till at length, elated by his success, he adventured all his winnings
upon a single throw of the dice, and lost!

For a moment he stood gazing upon the board with a look of
incredulous horror; and at length, when the fatal truth flashed
upon him, he turned away from the table with a look of fearful
calmness in his colorless face,—the calmness of suppressed despair,—and
slowly walked from the chambers.