University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.
GOLD, GLITTERING GOLD.

Wiry Willy made preparations to set out immediately
on his mission.

The first person he encountered in the street, when
looking for a hack, was the tall form of Sergeant Bim, who
had just been relieved from duty at the President's lodgings.

“Oh, it's you, Sergeant!” said Willy. “I am glad to
meet you. What is this rumor about some one attempting
to kill the President?”

“It's no rumor, Wiry Willy,” said the Sergeant, throwing
an arm round his friend's neck, for he was in excellent
humor, having repeatedly drunk the President's health
after saving his life. He detailed the particulars of the

occurrence in the greedy ears of Willy. “Now, Willy,”
he continued, “can you spare another half-eagle or so?”

“Gladly, Sergeant! Here, take the whole belt.”

“No, indeed. I've just borrowed an X or so. It'd be
stealing to rob you. I had my share and lost it at—in one
of the hells. But I'm going to rummage the old closet for
the rest. If I find it still there, you shall take your share
of it, or I'll serve your head like an egg! But what are
you after? Where are you going?”

“On important business to General Blount.”

“Speed and good luck to you! Manage things, Willy,
so I shall never be obliged to fight against him. I like his
eagle eye. And, besides, you know, I cracked some skulls
in defending him. Good-bye!”

Sergeant Bim plunged into one of those gambling establishments
where so much of his money had gravitated; and
in less than fifteen minutes all that he had obtained from
Wiry Willy passed the same inexorable bourn. Without
drinking any more, Bim turned away and left the place,
uttering no word of malediction. He directed his steps
towards Independence Square. Entering the inclosure, he
sat down on a stool near the spot where Major Trapp had
fallen, and gazed at the row of buildings opposite. They
seemed dark and deserted, although it was known that
General Ruffleton and his staff resorted thither. Fixing in
his mind the locality of the treasure he had abandoned,
Bim could perceive no evidences of present occupation.

“I'll try it, any how!” said he, rising and directing his
steps in that direction. Having ascended to the hall door
of a tenement, he placed his shoulder against it. The frail
barrier yielded, and he stepped in. Closing the door behind
him, he stood in such impenetrable darkness that
before advancing another step he struck a light with a
match, and ignited the wick of a sperm candle with which
he had provided himself. This done, he ascended the stairway.

“Go to the d—l!” he muttered, at the second turning,
when a large rat attempted to pass between his feet. He
kicked the squeaking animal down to the bottom of the
stairs, where it still continued its cries. “But it's a sign,”
he continued, “that no person's in the house.” Nevertheless,
at every turning he reconnoitred somewhat carefully,

for the walls between the houses had been cut through at
each of the landings.

Meeting no one to dispute his progress, the Sergeant
soon arrived at the attic room, where he had concealed his
treasure. The door was fast, although the lock did not
seem to have been repaired. “It is fastened on the inside,” he
muttered, “and that looks like some one might be within.
Hallo, there! open the door!” Saying this he stooped
down and listened. He thought he could distinguish a
slight noise, made by one moving lightly across the floor,
but he was not certain. “If there is mortal man or woman
in here, I demand admittance,” said Bim. “I have business
in this room, and must enter. I don't fear flesh and
blood, and my trade is fighting. My name is Sergeant
Bim, and you may have heard it—because I've sent more
than one man to his long account, and one of them this very
night. But if you are a ghost, just say so, and I'll retire.”
He was awfully afraid of ghosts. But no one responding,
Bim placed his knee against the door and it flew open,
sending the bolt into the middle of the room. “Who was
that?” he exclaimed, when his light was suddenly extinguished.
Receiving no answer, he stooped down and
rasped a match on the sole of his shoe, and relighted the
candle. “Now face me!” he said, standing erect, and
gazing round, not aware that the rush of wind had blown
out the light. No one met his view. The place seemed
quite deserted. The bed, the fractured chairs, and the old
table, appeared to have been unmolested since he and Wiry
Willy abandoned the premises. And there was the same
closet with its low door shut quite closely, as he had left it.

Placing the candle in the neck of a bottle on the table,
the Sergeant approached the place where he had concealed
the treasure. But when he applied his fingers to the door,
it resisted his endeavors to open it. It had neither lock nor
bolt, and it seemed most extraordinary that it should refuse
to turn on its hinges. At length the mystery was solved.
The sleeve of an old shirt was wedged tightly between it
and the floor. Seizing this with his fingers, the door yielded
to his strength. It was dark within, and he arose from his
stooping posture to fetch the light; but his impatience to
clutch the treasure overcame his purpose, and so he stooped
down and crawled in. Groping to the extremity of the

closet over the fragments of old clothes, cast-off boots, and
stove-pipes, he reached the corner where he remembered to
have deposited the gold. Here his hand encountered a substance
like the hair of a man's head; and the next moment
a most awful groan assailed his ear. He fell back, rolled
over, and retreated precipitately until he attained the centre
of the room, when he sprung up and faced the closet, with
a pistol in one hand, and his sword in the other.

“If you are flesh and blood, come out and have a fair
fight! If you are the devil, my time hasn't come yet. If
you are a ghost, just make it known, and I'll give you a
wide birth. But if you don't give me some sort of satisfaction,
I'll send a few bullets in there after you.”

“In the name of heaven, have pity on a poor old man, who
has not tasted bread for forty-eight hours,” was the response,
and in such squeaking tones that Bim believed his tale.

“Then come out, old Tuppenny, and let me see your phiz.
If you're actually hungry, I'll get you something to eat. Let
me see your phiz, I say.”

“As God is my judge it is true,” said the little old man,
who made his appearance.

“Why, you are that infernal little, old, bill-broking sharp-faced,
screw-flint Jew, Solomon Mouser! What the d—l
are you doing here!”

“Oh, brave captain!” said the Jew, crawling to the Sergeant's
feet, “if you will listen, you shall learn my sad history
since these terrible times began. I was rich, but now
I am poor indeed—robbed of my last dollar—on that dreadful
night—and ruined by a boy I hired to carry my trunk
to Moses Abrahams. He ran away with it, and I have not
put eyes on him since.”

“That's a lie, Solomon. I know all about it. Wiry
Willy related to me what Miss—I mean the boy—said had
happened. I knew it was you, from the description, and I
was glad to hear you had lost your money—no, not your
money, but the earnings of poor men and women you had
shaved from them. Begone, you lying varmint! Go, I say,
or I'll make mince meat for the rats, and that's all you are
fit for!”

“Let me die, then, in the place I have chosen. Leave
me to my miserable fate, and I will be a trouble to no one!”
Saying this, he was about to re-enter the closet; but the

Sergeant, catching his heel, threw him to the opposite side
of the room.

“No, you don't!” said Bim. “Tell me, is my money safe?”

“It is my treasure!” said the Jew. “I have been watching
and starving over it for days and nights! Oh, father
Abraham!”

“You are welcome to all the aid you can get from any of
the Abrahams in this city—and the Moseses too. But if
you really have been watching my gold for me, I'll pay
you fair wages. How much can you make a day committing
usury for the religious misers and millionaires?”

“As God is my judge—”

“If you must lie, don't call upon God to judge you. Stay
there, till I see if all's safe.”

The Sergeant re-entered the closet and ascertained that
the treasure had not been removed. It was in an old coffee
bag, which he dragged to the door, backing out like a
crab. But just as he emerged from the closet, his quick
eye caught the glitter of descending steel, and throwing up
his left hand, he seized the wrist of the Jew, and arrested
the murderous blow.

“See here, old Tuppenny!” he exclaimed, rising, but still
holding the Jew by the wrist, “do you think my back was
made to be stung by such a weak Israelitish wasp as you?
How much will you pay me for every stab I'll let you have
at my back? If you'll take the job at fair wages, I'll stand
with my face to the wall and let you cut away all day. You
caricature of London Punch, do you think there's no difference
between bleeding hard-up merchants, run-down editors,
and distressed widows, and a six-feet-seven man, whose
trade is war? Hold on, sir—I don't want your knife.
Clasp it tight, and you shall have blood.” Saying this,
Bim so turned the Jew's wrist that the point of the steel
was opposite the assassin's own breast. But before he could
plunge it in, the Jew straightened his fingers and the weapon
fell to the floor.

“Mercy! mercy!” cried the Jew. “Let me live, and I
will serve you faithfully as—”

“Well, live. I should be ashamed to kill such a specimen
as you. Solomon Mouser, I'll trust you. If you
deceive me, you know very well that I can kill you. Will
you take care of my money for me?”

“It shall be sacred in my keeping.”

“I don't believe your words, old fellow, but I know your
instincts. You nosed out my treasure just as naturally as a
buzzard finds carrion. Not to eat, like the sensible buzzard,
but to watch and starve over it for others. What a fool
you are, old Tuppenny! You can lie in rags all your life
and hug a pile of gold, and when you die you can't even
take it to the devil with you. But here—I'll leave the
greater part of the money. I'm not afraid you'll spend it;
but remember, if you hide it when I want it, or refuse to
honor any order I may send for any portion of it, less than
one-half the sum before I filled my belt this time—”

“Twenty-eight thousand, nine hundred and fourteen dollars
and nineteen cents—”

“No doubt you've counted it a thousand times, and I'll
take your word for it. But stay—I see you have writing
tools, and here is a sheet of paper on which you have been
compounding interest for several hundred years ahead, until
the amount is many tons beyond my arithmetic. Now sign
me a receipt for the deposit.”

“But I don't know how much you have taken out of the
bag.”

“No matter; guess at it. Say two or three thousand
dollars.”

“Three thousand and fourteen.”

“Well, give me a receipt for the balance. By George,
but you can write! Stick to the pen, Shylock, and let the
dagger alone. You can wound enough with your tongue.
Let me read it—I'm no lawyer; but I think that'll do. I
haven't time to calculate whether you've subtracted it right;
but I know you'll never spend anything. If you steal a
portion you'll hide it—not spend it, and so I'm safe. And
if you don't pay me, I shan't take the law of you—I'll cut
your throat! Harkee, though—take a few dollars and buy
enough bread and ham—”

“I don't eat pork.”

“True! you're too religious for that. Then buy what
you please, so as to keep life in you—and take care of my
gold. I'm off!” and Bim strode out of the room and
descended the stairway. But when he reached the hall, it
occurred that it might be good policy not to be seen issuing
from the same door he had entered. He had no bodily

fear; but some one might discover his hidden treasure.
Therefore, he turned to the right and passed through the
hole cut in the partition wall, and here the same reason
moved him to continue on some distance down the block.
When he had reached the sixth house he was brought
abruptly to a pause. The sound of voices was heard in the
parlor where he was about to plunge. He extinguished the
light in his hand, and then the rays of a chandelier within
illuminated the opening through which he had been on the
eve of passing.

The persons speaking were females, and two in number.
The Sergeant peeped in cautiously from his hiding-place,
and beheld a lovely dark-haired maiden, and a woman of
middle age, who seemed to exercise some control over her
young companion.

“Why did they bring me here?” asked the beautiful
girl, while tears stood on her long, black eyelashes.

“It was to save you, they said,” replied the other.

“Save me from whom?”

“Why, from the Southerners, of course. Didn't they
take a man prisoner who was going after you? That was
the way they found you out. When they showed the paper
to the General, he ordered some of his men to bring you to
the city, where none of the Southerners come. I have the
paper, and you may see it.”

“Oh, good woman! Oh, madam!” exclaimed the young
girl, on perusing the writing, “these lines were written to
me by a dear friend, for a paper he left in my keeping. No
doubt he was in trouble. Oh, pray assist me to return!
You are a woman, and no doubt feel the duty a wife owes
her husband. I am his affianced bride—”

“I'm a widow, Miss, not a wife. My husband must go
to the wars! He was killed at Bladensburg. And he left
three poor little children for me to support!” And the
widow seemed to weep.

“I sympathize with you, madam. Oh, that man's inhumanity
to man—”

“Yes, though he's gone, he was inhuman to leave me
alone in such dreadful times as these! And if it hadn't
been for the kindness and nobleness of General Ruffleton,
in making me his housekeeper—”

“General Ruffleton's housekeeper! Is this his house?”

“He comes here every now and then. He leaves all his
fine things in my keeping, and supplies me with money,
which Sergeant Punt left me without.”

“But, oh, assist me to return to my home! Poor Willy
may lose his life for the want of the paper!”

“Who? Wiry Willy? I didn't read his name.”

“Yes, madam.”

“Then you needn't give yourself any more trouble about
him. He's dead. They hung him this morning as a spy.
I heard the General say so.”

“Oh, my God!” exclaimed poor Mary, clasping her hands
and falling prostrate at the feet of the woman.

“It's a lie! It's an infernal lie!” said Sergeant Bim,
stalking into the room. Mrs. Punt, unheeding Mary, began
to scream with ear-splitting intensity; but Bim seized her
by the waist with one arm, and employed the other in
stopping her mouth. “Be easy!” said he, “and bring the
girl to life. Willy escaped, and I saw him not two hours
ago. I'm no burglar, and so you needn't be frightened;
and, besides, I have good news for you, too. I'm—I mean
I was Captain Bim, and Sergeant Punt was my Sergeant.
They said we were both killed. Punt has joined the President,
and is now working on a ship. So behave yourself,
and help me to bring this beautiful maiden to life again.”

Bim released the woman after delivering himself of his
speech, and taking Mary in his arms, sprinkled her face with
some water he found in a pitcher.

Meantime, Mrs. Punt, recovering her speech, cried:

“It's not good news, sir. He's never been worth a cent
to me since he took to politics. And here I'm left to support
the family! And they've put up sugar to twenty
cents, and rice to fifteen. Levy shirting is now a quarter
of a dollar; and they say it'll soon be fifty cents, because
they can't make it in the North, and the Southerners
won't let us have any more!”

During this tirade Mary revived.

“Oh, sir!” said she, “who are you?”

“Wiry Willy's friend—and no friend of General Ruffleton.”

“Then you'd better be getting away from here,” said
Mrs. Punt.

“I'm Jack Bim. You can't marry again.”

“Pray release me, sir. I am stronger now, I thank you.

I have heard him speak of your bravery and generosity.
But did not some one say poor Willy was dead?”

“Yes, Miss, that h—l cat did say so, but it's a lie!
Wiry Willy was in this city, alive and well, this very night.
He loaned me twenty dollars not more than two hours ago.”

“Thank heaven! Oh, Sergeant Bim, please take me
where I can see him.”

“That can't be done immediately, because Miss Edith
sent him to New Castle with a message—”

“Miss Edith? Oh, yes! She's in the city. Take me to her!”

“I will, in spite of a whole regiment of Ruffletons!”

“No, you won't!” cried Mrs. Punt. “That's the General's
walk in the hall. I thought I heard a deadlatch key!
Now, down on your marrow-bones, for you haven't got two
minutes to live!”

Bim listened an instant, and distinguishing voices, and the
tread of several men approaching hurriedly, he cast a
glance of inquiry at Mary. The response was satisfactory,
and lifting her in his arms again, he vanished through the
aperture in the wall. He could not expect to find his way
readily from one aperture to another, and he knew pursuit
would be made, therefore when he had passed the second
wall, he turned aside one step, and stood perfectly still in
the darkness.

“Breathe easy!” said he in a whisper to Mary, “and they
will pass us.”

“Then place me on my feet. If we must fly again, I can
keep pace with you. I will hold your hand. There.”

“Take my other—the left. They come!”

There was just sufficient light from the distant chandelier
for Bim to see the forms of the pursuers. The foremost of
the party, from his portly dimensions, he supposed to be
the General. He awaited, in perfect composure, his arrival.

“These holes must be made larger or closed up entirely,”
said Ruffleton, making an effort to squeeze through. “Ah!”
he cried, and fell back at full length on the floor, from the
effect of a tremendous blow, dealt by the Sergeant.

“Alas, why did you not suffer them to pass?” whispered
Mary.

“Just to make 'em cautious,” was Bim's reply; and then
he prostrated the second, and the third, as they successively
filled the orifice. “Now,” said he, “let us retreat behind

the next wall.” This was accomplished, and just in time,
for a moment after the pursuers fired their pistols through
the aperture.

“Can we not get into the street?” asked Mary.

“Oh, yes—but that might be falling out of the frying-pan
into the fire.”

“Could we not escape through the yard?”

“Possibly. Are you willing to risk it?”

“Oh, yes! There can be no more danger than to remain
here.”

Bim found the back door locked, but the key was in it.
This he turned, and the door came open. They now stood
in the diminutive yard, in the brilliant light of the moon.
Locking the door behind him, the Sergeant led the way to
a dingy gate opening into a narrow alley. This likewise,
on being unbolted, turned on its rusty hinges. They proceeded
along the alley, and were about to emerge into the
street, when the sounds of feet and voices arrested their
progress.

“Do you watch up that way and I'll look this,” said one.

“But didn't he say we must not use our pistols?”

“Yes. The report of fire-arms might bring upon us the
President's men. Besides, we won't need the shooting
irons. There is but one of the enemy, and a single sword
or dagger will do for him.”

“I'd like to know how many there are of you?” said the
Sergeant, stooping down and peeping out. In doing this,
some of the spangles with which he had decorated his velvet
cap, sparkled in the moonbeams.

“What's that?” cried one of the men in the street. “It
moves, and there must be life in it. Let's see.” And he
approached.

“Stand back against the wall, Miss!” said Bim, drawing
his sword. “They've found me out, and I must fight. I've
got a keen appetite, and I won't detain you long. Ahem!”
he continued aloud, and then stepped forth.

“Yield or die!” exclaimed the foremost of the men.

“I'll be — if I do!” said Bim. “So come on.” He
was assailed by them both, but he was a capital fencer. “I
don't murmur, gentlemen,” he continued, “at having two
against me, so long as you keep in front, and I'll try to take
care of my back. This is mere child's play, and I can talk

and fence with such as you. There, sir! Pick it up again.
Now for yours,” he added to the other, whose sword flew
into the middle of the street. “So, if you beg for quarter,
I'll let you go. No? Very well! And here comes
another. Two to one was the bargain, and the third's an
interloper. However, he's fresh, and I'll give him one of
your places.” As he said this, Bim thrust one of the combatants
between the ribs. He staggered off a few steps
and fell. “Now, gentlemen, it's only two to one again,”
said he, “and if there are any more recruits on the way, let
'em come—but for every fresh one that appears, an old one
must disappear.”

“Oh, sir!” said Mary, “do not shed blood on my
account.”

“Very well!” said Bim, and the next moment the swords
of both his antagonists flew out of their hands. “Now,
gentlemen,” said he, “you may retire. My blood is getting
warm, and you might find me dangerous. If you will take
a friend's advice, stay where you are, and keep your points
down. If I were not in somewhat of a hurry, and had no
precious charge in my keeping, it would afford me considerable
amusement to play till morning. Come, Miss Mary.”
He lifted her with his left arm, and holding his sword in his
right hand, walked briskly away. But, hearing the approach
of many footsteps, and finding himself pursued by his two
antagonists, he paused a moment with the resolution to
dispatch them — but they hesitated to trust themselves
within his reach. And now, seeing he must soon be overwhelmed
by numbers, if he remained on the ground, the
Sergeant again lifted his burden and fled away.