University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

Hugh having been conducted by the old
captain, into one of the empty apartments
of the old house, was left there to put on his
disguise assisted by Gordon, and aided by
the light of a farthing candle.

`Excellent,' exclaimed Gordon, as his
friend turned himself about with his carpenter's
box upon his shoulder, `you would
never be taken for anything else than a carpenter
even by the craft.'

`I am glad the disguise is so perfect,' answered
Hugh. `If success but crown our
efforts.'

`Do not fear. Now let us go down and
take the lovely Jennette with us. She is a
noble girl, Hugh, and sacrifices her feelings
to aid you.'

`Heaven bless her for it. I am now ready.'

They descended the stairs together, and in
the room below found Jennette waiting with
her father.

`Now, Jennette,' said Gordon. `Good
bye, captain; within an hour you shall hear
the result.'

`Take good care of my child, lieutenant,'
said the captain, earnestly. `Do not let danger
befall her from this step she is taking. I
give my consent only because I hope it may
save a really innocent person from the gallows;
for I do not feel that Colonel Ogilvie
at heart was a guilty man. Bless you, my
child. Be firm and self-possessed.'

`The consciousness of the solemnity of
the task imposed upon me, dear father, will
render me so,' she answered as she gave her
hand to Gordon.

`Your disguise is complete, sir,' said Captain
Alison to Hugh, as he surveyed him, as
in his green jacket, apron and old cap, he
stood before him, his box of tools mounted
upon his shoulder. `Be cool and wary, and
I believe you may succeed.'

`All will depend on Jennette's success
with the keeper,' answered Gordon. `Loving
her as I do, it is no light thing that would
induce me to give my consent to expose her
to his free gaze. But she consents freely to
take the part, and I have confidence in her
tact and judgment.'

`I shall do my best. Good night, dear
father,' she said, embracing him.

The next moment they had left the house,
and entering the coach at the head of the
wharf, were driven away in the direction of
the prison. The darkness had already set
in, and the lights at the corners of the streets
were the only guide of the coachman until
he entered Hanover street, when the brilliant
shop windows lent the glare of bright
moonlight to surrounding objects. Gordon
drew the curtains of the carriage closer, lest
by chance they might be recognized by any
passer by. He took Jennette's hand to
thank her for her courage and kindness in

taking part with them, and found that it
trembled.

`You fear to undertake it, dear Jennette,'
he said in an under tone.

`No, oh no,' she answered earnestly. `Still
the duty is so strange—and—and if all fails
it may involve you in so much danger.'

`Thinking of me and forgetting yourself,
noble Jennette. How this touches my heart.
More and more I love and esteem you;' and
he pressed his lips to her hand, `There
can be no danger befall me. All is arranged
so that none of the parties can suffer unless
Hugh lose his presence of mind. His part
is most dangerous.'

`The object I have in view, Gordon, will
make an iron man of me. Is Miss Alison
well schooled in her part?'

`I believe so, Jenuette. But I will repeat
my instructions. You will as soon as you
leave the carriage proceed with this basket
of strawberries and your boquets directly
along the sidewalk to the prison. The office
door you will find open. The keeper,
a stout, red-faced gentleman will probably
be in the door, or seated in an arm-chair,
smoking his after supper cigar. You will
call “strawberries” as you approach his
door, with that admirable imitation of the
strawberry woman's cry you practised to-day
before us. You will step into the office and
ask if the keeper wishes to buy.'

`Yes, yes; I know my part well now.
And the vinaigrette. Does it contain nothing
that may produce death, Gordon? This
troubles me more than all.'

`Do not fear to give it to him It contains
only an extremely subtle ether which,
when the silver lid of the bottle is raised and
it is inhaled, produces torpor and insensibility.
The effects are almost instantaneous.
Your post, therefore, is so to manage while
your trade in strawberries goes on, to get
him to smell the bottle. The whole then is
done to our hand; for the moment he becomes
insensible, Hugh will seize the keys
and make his way boldly to the cell where
his father is confined. You will leave the
office as soon as you see the keeper affected,
and I shall be at hand to convey you to the
carriage in which you will at once remove
this outward disguise appearing in your own
modest and plain costume.'

`We are at the foot of — street, sir,'
said the coachman calling to them through
the front window of the carriage, and at the
same time reining up.

`We stop here, Jennette. It is but a short
walk to the prison. You will go on ahead
and Hugh will follow at a few paces with his
box of tools. I will be at hand to protect
you from danger, Jennette, or insult.'

The coachman opened the door, and Gordon
assisted Jennette to the pavement. Hugh
followed, saying to Gordon, so as to deceive
the hackman,

`I thank you, sir, for giving me a ride so
far on my way home. It is tiresome enough
for a poor mechanic to work all day and then
to walk home a mile after dark. To-morrow
I will be down early to the old house and
finish the job.'

`Do so,' answered Gordon, as Hugh walked
on. `Coachman, you will wait for as
here. Turn your horses' heads the other way,
and keep ready to drive off as soon as we return.'

`Aye, aye, sir,' responded the knight of
the whip, with that indifference as to the affairs
of his “fare” which characterises this
fraternity; but in his own mind, for hackney
coachmen sometimes have their private opinions
touching the movements of those who
employ them, this was a runaway match.

The place at which the coach stopped,
was at the meeting of three streets, and beneath
the dark shade of a large sycamore
tree. The spot was retired as the street was
but little frequented, though not far distant
could be heard the roar of wheels upon the
pavements of a crowded thoroughfare.

After reaching the head of the dark lane,
Hugh stopped till Gordon and Jennette came
up with him.

`Now, my dear Gordon, we are within a
few steps of the prison. The fate of my
father hangs upon us three. Let neither of
us falter in our parts. Think, Miss Alison,
of my grey-headed father, when your heart
would fail you, and be firm for his sake. I
know the task before you is a trying one,
and attended with danger. But you are as
brave as generous. I leave my father in
your hands.'

`Do not put the whole weight of responsibility
upon a poor girl like me, Mr. Ogilvie.
But I shall try to be true to you and to myself.'

`The very tone of your voice gives me
confidence. Are you sure the horses are in
waiting, Gordon?'

`I had best see.'

`No, I will go round myself, and shall
then know better their just locality when I
shall want to use them. Remain here. I
shall return in five minutes.'

Thus speaking he crossed the street, and
after traversing one of those narrow courts
so common in that quarter of the city, he
passed under an arched way that led him into
an obscure lane about one hundred yards
south of the prison.

He soon came to a negro holding two
saddled horses, near the outlet of a narrow
thoroughfare, that led directly to the prison,
its lower opening being opposite the gate.

`Whose horses are those?' he said as if
he desired to test both his disguise and the
discretion of Cæsar.

`Dey belong to de doctor, my master. He
live dere, and am goin' to ride out to see
somebody sick in de country. De man who
own dis oder horse is in de house wid him
now. Now you know, take your box o' tools
and be off,' added Cæsar in an under tone,
as Hugh satisfied of the certainty of this
mode of escape turned and left him.

In a few moments afterwards, he rejoined
Gordon and Jennette, who had not left unimproved
by tender converse this interval in
which they had been left together.

`All is safe there, Gordon,' said Hugh.
`The faithful Cæsar stands ready with the
horses. Now it becomes us to do our part.'

`I am ready, Mr. Ogilvie, to do mine,' answered
Jennette, with animation. `Good
bye, Gordon, and do not doubt my self-possession,'

`I do not, Jennette, dearest. But I doubt
my own resolution. I am half tempted to
forbid your going. As the moment approaches
my imagination invests your path with a
thousand perils. But go forward. All depends
on the next half hour. I will hover
near to watch for your safety. Do not fail
to leave the office the moment you see the
keeper smell of the vinaigrette. Hasten at
once towards the carriage, but not so hurriedly
as to excite remark. Now Heaven
protect thee, and prosper your mission.'

With these words he pressed his lip to her
cheek, and the next moment she was tripping
along many paces from him, her basket
of strawberries upon her arm; and ere he
could reconcile himself to the perilous position
in which he had placed her, he heard
her sweet voice singing cheerfully the well
known strawberry cry—

`Straw-ber-r-r-r-ries. Who will buy my
nice fresh strawberries.'

`The ball is open now,' said he, `and
courageously too.'

`That voice is the signal trumpet for action,
Gordon. What a fearless and free tone
it has. She is a noble girl Gordon, and for
the part she takes this night, whether I fail
or prosper, she has won my deepest gratitude.
I will now go forward and do my part.'

`I shall be at hand to aid all in my power,'
answered Gordon, as Hugh strode forward
and entered the street in which a few
rods distant the prison was situated. The
street was dark, save where a lamp at one
distant corner and another directly above the
keeper's office at the gate, threw its light upon
the sidewalk. The hour was precisely
a quarter to eight, as Jennette advanced to
the door of the office singing her strawberry

ditty most melodiously. Several persons
passing, stopped to listen, and others to look
back to admire her pretty appearance.

The keeper sat in his office with the front
door open, and the back door ajar, in order
that the breeze might circulate freely through,
for it was a warm summer's night.

The office was a small, square apartment,
in the east wing or flank of the prison, the
dark, grey walls of which extended along
the street for a hundred feet or more. The
only access to the interior of the walls was
through the keeper's lodge, where now the
keeper sat in his leathern arm-chair midway
between the two doors, smoking his cigar.

He could see the street and persons passing,
through one door, and command the interior
of the prison court-yard through the
other, and at the same time enjoy the cool
breeze which circulated through the apartment.
The walls of the office were hung
with maps and plans of prisons, portraits of
sheriffs and eminent criminal judges; and
the likenesses of several noted criminals
decorated the low mantel-piece, on which also
was a scull, the head of a famous bucanier
who had been hanged some years before.
A piece of candle was now stuck in one of
the eye-sockets. The floor was nicely sanded,
and a pair of spittoons, one on each side
of the keeper bore testimony to the neatness
of the tobacco smoker. Behind him, or rather
a little to the right of him upon a rack on
which hung hats, caps, hand-cuffs, gives
and old keys, was a brass pin, on which was
suspended a huge bunch of well used keys.
They were within reach of the keeper's
hand. These were the keys of the cells, and
to the possession of which Hugh Ogilvie
aimed. Near the keys hung two small mysterious
looking cords neatly done up, and
labelled—“Noose No. 1—Noose No. 2,”
doubtless hangman's hemp which had seen
service.

The personage who occupied this apartment
was a corpulent man, with a rosy, good
humored countenance, but with an eye re
markable for its cool, collected expression.
He was about five-and-forty years of age,
wore a loose gingham jacket, his suspenders
unbuckled for comfort, and his feet were
thrust into green morocco slippers. He
lolled back in his chair quietly smoking his
cigar, as if he enjoyed it, feeling that now
the duties of the day over, and his prisoners
safely locked up, he had a right to make
himself comfortable.

While he was idly watching the smoke of
his cigar idly curl above his head and float
along the ceiling in miniature clouds, an apprentice
entered, bearing beneath his arm a
small package carefully tied up.

`I have brought it, sir,' he said in a mysterious
tone and manner to the keeper.

And as he spoke he laid the parcel down
upon the table with the air of one glad to
get rid of an unpleasant charge.

`Oh, the rope,' said the keeper, as he
glanced at the parcel, one end of which was
open. `Very well, tell your master I will
test the strength of it to-morrow.'

`So it is for a man to be hanged on,' said
the lad, with looks of horror. `I guessed at
it, but master said no. But I knows ropes
ain't used at jails for nothin' else. I hopes,
sir, you'll hang him dead, so his ghost wont
haunt me for bringing the rope'

`I'll take care o' that, my boy,' answered the
keeper laughing, as the boy left the office.

He had hardly composed his countenance
again, and replaced his cigar between his
lips, when the musical cry of the strawberry
girl fell upon his ear at a distance. He
raised his head and bent his ear to listen
with a pleased look. Again it rose upon
the air clearer and sweeter.

`That is well sung and pretty voice. I
must see who it is carols it so well,' he said,
fixing his eyes upon the open street door to
watch her as she passed. `If she be as pretty
as she sings, I' faith, I'll buy her strawberries
if she has a peck o' them.'

The next moment Jennette stopped before
the door.