University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.
NED'S CONFINEMENT AT JACK CADAVER'S HOUSE OF HORRORS—HIS
ESCAPE.

Mallex exerted himself to the utmost to dispel the misgivings
that arose in the breast of Ned as the cab swept
rapidly away. The driver had received his instructions in
a whisper, after the boy had been lifted into the carriage.
They rolled onward some ten or twelve squares, before Ned
exhibited any symptoms of impatience.

“Is it not time we were there, sir?” he asked, modestly,
of Mallex.

“Oh, no; the driver did not go straight to Mrs.
Dimple's house. Didn't you hear what he said to me after
you got in?”

“No, sir. I hope it won't be long before we get
there.”

“Not long. He asked me to let him drive by his employer's
stables in Locust street, before he went to Mrs.
Dimple's. He merely wanted to leave a bucket there,
which he had taken by mistake. I thought I heard him
throw it off a minute ago. If so, it can't be long before
we arrive at the mansion.”

On they continued, with seemingly increased rapidity.
After going at that rate for some ten minutes more, Ned,
observing through the glass that they passed but few
houses, and that the street lamps had entirely disappeared,
again became restless.

“I wish he would stop!” said he; “I am sure we have
gone far enough to be there!”

“I'll see,” said Mallex, letting down the glass and
thrusting his head out of the window. After gazing thus
a few minutes, he put up the glass again, and said, in a
merry tone; “It's all plain enough, now. It seemed to
me, too, that he was a long time driving so short a distance.
Tim wouldn't wait for us, and the sleigh was gone.
Don't you hear the bells?”

“I've heard sleigh bells ever since we started, until now;
I don't hear any now.”

“Oh, but I did, when the glass was down. Mrs.
Dimple's sleigh is ahead of us, and our driver is trying to
overtake it. He will do it, too!”

“Mrs. Dimple's sleigh?” asked Ned, with eagerness.

“To be sure, I know it by the black horses, and Tim's
white coat.”

“Tim's coat is blue.”

“Not now; it is covered with snow. Our driver knew
him and his horses, and sleigh, too.”

“But ain't we out of the city, now?” Didn't we come
out Broad street?”

“Yes. Mrs. Dimple, you know, owns a farm and a cottage

out here. No doubt we will have fine sport to-night.”

Ned did not know anything about the cottage. But he
knew nothing to the contrary; and so he remained pacified
some ten or fifteen minutes more. He then, as if by a
sudden impulse, let down the glass himself, and thrust his
head out.

“What do you see?” asked Mallex, placing his hand
upon the boy's shoulder.

“Nothing—there is no sleigh ahead of us!” said Ned,
in tones of vexation.

“Let me see,” said Mallex, gently pushing the boy
aside. “I understand it,” he continued; “the sleigh has
gone the fastest, and turned the lane. I see the house.
We'll soon be there.”

“Let me see it,” said Ned. He did see a very plain
looking, old, sharp-roofed building in the direction indicated.
The cab soon turned into the lane, and was driven
up to the house.

Telling Ned to remain a minute in the cab, Mallex
sprang out and knocked at the door, which was instantly
opened.

“Your name is Cadaver?” asked the broker, stepping
into the house, and confronting the resurrectionist.

“Yes, that's my name; and Dr. Castor says its my
nature.”

“It was Dr. Castor who told me where you lived. I
dined with him yesterday, and he described your business.

“I'm going in with a load to-night. I have enough
subjects, now. They don't give me so much for them this
cold weather, as they used to, and I must pay less to
others. How many bodies have you got?”

“One.”

“Only one? Was he killed, or did he die?”

“He is alive.”

“Alive!”

“Yes.”

“What did you bring him here for, then?”

“To dispose of him.”

“I'm no Burke, sir! I follow an honest calling. Dr.
Castor is a religious man, and says it's no harm, but a

benefit to science, to furnish bodies for the medical college.
You must know, sir, that folks die fast enough nowadays
from disease, and from accident, to say nothing of
suicides, and now and then a wind-fall from the gallows,
to supply the demand at the colleges. I thought you
wasn't a regular one. I buy most of my subjects from the
darkies.”

“How much do you pay for them?”

“For choice ones, I give from ten to fifteen dollars
apiece.”

“And how much do you get for them from the doctors?”

“For choice ones, in good season, when there isn't much
competition from the east, they pay me about fifty per cent.
profit.”

“That is, from fifteen to twenty odd dollars each.”

“Thereabouts.”

“Well. Now, instead of selling you mine, I will pay
you twenty dollars to take him off my hands.”

“Is he a man?”

“No, a boy, and delicate at that.”

“But there's no use in talking about it, if I understand
you correctly. Burking's a thing I never think of, and
what's more, I never will think of it. That's certain.”

“You don't understand me. I do not require you to
take his life. All I ask is, that he shall never come back
to the city. So long as he is kept away, I will come out
and pay you twenty dollars every Christmas. But if he
should die in the natural way, you know, upon letting me
hear of it, by addressing X. Y. Z., at the post-office, I
will send you one hundred dollars.”

“It's a bargain,” said Cadaver, after a pause. “Bring
him in. I'll hand him over to my old woman.”

In the meantime, Ned had become painfully anxious.
He feared he had been deceived, and that his conductor
intended him some evil. He had an impulse to spring out
of the cab and attempt making his escape. But, as Mallex
had said, he was truly a delicate boy. Susan had reared
him as tenderly as his parents could have done. He was
ignorant of the vile pursuits of his species, and scarcely
equal to the performance of the hardy undertakings and

desperate resolves, which other boys of his age, differently
raised, might have accomplished. He had neither suffered
from cold, nor known what were the unsatisfied pangs of
hunger, since he had been rescued from the house of
refuge. Yet he had read of ill treatment to poor orphan
boys. And now, it flashed upon him, that he was really
to encounter dangers, and undergo sufferings, to which he
had hitherto been a stranger.

“Driver!” said he, timidly.

“Well, Miss?”

“I am no Miss, but a boy.”

“A boy! not a girl in boy's clothes? That's a good
one!”

“Driver, do you know the gentleman's name who
brought me here?”

“No.”

“Do you know whose house that is?”

“No.”

“Do you know Susan Meek, who lives in Pecan
alley?”

“No. I don't know anything in the night, when I'm
on excursions like these. The gentleman paid me not to
know anything. I'm a know nothing.”

“Oh, me! I'm afraid I'm lost!”

“I guess you've travelled before o' nights.”

“No, indeed. Good sir, if he don't take me back with
him, I beg you will drive to Pecan alley, and inquire for
Susan Meek, and tell her where you left me. She will
give you a dollar, I know.”

“Come, Ned, jump out?” said Mallex, approaching the
door of the cab. “Why, what are you crying about? Be
a good boy. Nobody intends to hurt you. This is a better
place than that filthy alley. It was necessary to bring
you here. Never mind why. Don't tremble so!” he continued,
placing the boy's hand in Cadaver's.

“Oh, sir, why did you deceive me?” cried Ned. “I
never injured you, nor any living mortal in the world. I
will never do any body any harm. Pray, sir, do not kill
me!” he continued, yielding submissively to the thin tallow-faced
old man who led him towards the house.

There was a scowl of triumph on the brow of Mallex.

The rest of his features were, however, much concealed by
his profusion of hair. Even the end of his curved nose
was lost in the sandy integument on his lip.

“Nothing will hurt you, Ned, if you don't cry. Drive
off, now!” he added to the cabman, as he sprang into the
vehicle. The next moment the wheels were rattling swiftly
down the lane, and Ned was conducted into the house.

“What is your name?” asked the wife of Cadaver, a
little, wrinkled old woman, thrusting her sharp nose into
the boy's face.

“Ned Lorn, madam. Oh, I hope you are too good to
do me any injury! Haven't you some children?”

“No!” she replied, in a sharp voice. “I never had
any, and I never wanted any. I wonder what any body
wants with them; they eat up the meat and the bread,
and does no good. There is too many of 'em in the world,
for these are hard times. You are one too many,” she
continued, in still more grating tones, turning and sweeping
some strips of white muslin into the fire, while Ned
stood trembling before her. “You shouldn't 've been
born; or you should 've died, and gone to the doctors, before
now. That's all such little brats are fit for. Well,
you're here now! And you won't trouble your dad any
more, I'll be bound!”

Meg Cadaver had overheard the colloquy between Mallex
and her husband.

“Meg,” said her husband, “I must go now and hitch
the horse to the sled. It's time I was off. Give the boy
something to eat, and let him sleep till I come back.”

“Go and hitch your horse. I'll take care of the boy.
If his own dad wouldn't keep him, I should like to know
what I should feed him for?”

“Indeed I am not hungry, or sleepy either,” said Ned,
when the old man withdrew.

“You aint, hey?” continued the old woman, sitting
down near the blazing fire, and again surveying the fair
features of the unhappy boy, who still stood in the middle
of the room.

“No, good madam.”

“I'm not such a good madam as you think. But you
may set down on that stool, and warm yourself.”

“Thank you, madam!” said Ned, looking gratefully in
her face through his suffused eyes.

“What's your daddy's name? What did he cast you
off, for!”

“My father's dead. That man was not my father.”

“Then what did he bring you here for?”

“I do not know. I never saw him before to-night.”

“Did he take you away from your mother?”

“Oh, no; I have no mother. She, too, is dead!”

“Hoity toity!” exclaimed the old woman, in a tone
somewhat softened. “It's a riddle. Property is at the
bottom of it. You're in somebody's way—”

“I didn't know it,” said Ned, springing up and looking
behind.

“I didn't mean that. I mean that you stand betwixt
somebody and some property; and when you're put out
of the way, he can get at it. So you see you children
have no right to come intruding into this world in such
hard times. Why, chickens is a dollar. You're nasty
little intruders—that's jest what you are!”

“Oh, good madam, if you will send me back home, I
will give you all the property I have in the world. I
havn't anything but some books, and some presents Susan
made me.”

“You don't know what you're talking about. You don't
know what you've got. It's property—and a sight of it,
I'll be bound.”

“I'm ready, old woman,” said Jack Cadaver, opening
the door of the back room a few inches. “Why, Meg,”
he continued, “you hav'n't put the boy to sleep; I see
him setting there by the dog-iron.”

“No. Shet the door, Jack; I'll do it in a minute,”
said she, turning to Ned. “Boy, if you won't eat, I
s'pose you can sleep. It's time all such little intruders as
you was asleep. Take this lamp and go up stairs, turn to
the left, and creep into the low bed.”

“Oh, if you please!” said Ned, “don't send me up
there by myself. Let me lie down on the floor in this
room, and I won't give you a bit of trouble. Your good
husband is going away, and I'll be company for you. I'll

tell you nice stories, if my aching heart will let me; and
I'm sure you won't scold me.”

“Throw him a blanket, Meg—and a pillow,” said Jack.

“Here, then; now go to sleep in a minute,” said the
old woman, doing as her husband had requested.

Ned spread the blanket on the floor, not far from the
wall, and laid down.

After waiting a few moments for him to get asleep, the
old woman crept away softly with the light. For a brief
space of time all was still. But Ned could not sleep. In
vain he lifted up his little hands, and repeated the Lord's
prayer with an earnestness such as he had never felt before.
In vain he uttered the old nursery rhyme:

He could not sleep. And he feared that he might die
before morning. But he determined, if possible, to remain
quiet, and avoid giving offence to the old woman. Presently
he heard the following dialogue:

“Is the sled close to the door, Jack?”

“Yes; jam up agin it.” The horse was heard snorting
near the side door of the rear room in the yard.

“Won't he be frightened?”

“I don't see why he ought to be, more than when he
has a load of pork. They don't smell, this cold weather.”

“Make haste, then. I'll help you to take out the big
one. You can carry the little ones yourself.”

“Take hold of his feet, Meg. He's frozen as stiff as a
poker! Ain't he heavy?”

“Mercy on me, Jack, I can't lift him!”

The moment after a heavy substance was heard to fall
with a dull sound.

“Try it again, Meg! Put your arms around his legs,
aud hug 'em tight!”

“Wait, Jack; I'm out of breath! Don't talk about hugging!
This is the heaviest man we've ever had. What
was the matter with him?”

“Appleplexy, the doctors say. I've taken 'em two or

three of those fat ones, and that's what they said they died
with. It's caused by rich living, eating and drinking.”

“Jack, we won't die with it, then.”

This caused the old man to laugh.

“No we don't live high enough for that. But I'll make
'em pay extra for this feller. He's the kind they like.
They say they cut such one's heads open, and look at the
brain.”

Again the old couple were heard staggering under the
weight of their burden. Ned's curiosity to see what they
were doing became irresistible. The room he lay in was
dark. The only light in it came from the sinking embers
in the fire-place. He crept noiselessly to the partition
door, and peeped into the room illuminated by two lamps—
the one the old man had with him, and the one the old woman
had taken. Upon the floor he espied several human
bodies lying in a row, and a very large one slowly disappearing
through the door opening into the yard, borne by
the panting old couple. They were shrouded and bandaged,
as they had been deposited in their graves; but
their gloves and stockings having been removed, their naked
feet and hands were exposed.

Ned sank down chilled with horror. He knew not how
long he lay prostrate beside the door. After the old man
had departed, he was found by Meg, still lying there.

“Now that's what you've got by peeping at things that
didn't consarn you!” said she, dragging him towards the
fire. “Why, your hand is almost as cold as a corpse's.”

“Oh, let me go! Don't touch me with your hands if
you please!” cried Ned, recovering.

“Fiddlestick! The corpses are cleaner than dead hogs,
because they wash 'em better. What's the use to be frightened
at 'em? I'm used to it. But I never killed anybody,
even if I could get a hundred dollars for it. You needn't
be afraid. Them people died at their homes, and better
homes than mine. The doctors will pay us for 'em. We
didn't dig them up, nuther.”

“Oh, if you will only please to let me go out,” said
Ned, looking towards the door communicating with the
passage. “I will sleep in the snow!”

“You are a little fool. 'Twouldn't take more nor an

hour to make you as cold and as stiff as a corpse—” She
paused suddenly, as the thought of the hundred dollars
flashed upon her. “No, 'twont do!” she continued. “We
should be suspected. And they say there is no difference
'tween murder and letting a child die hisself.”

“Let me go, if you please!” continued Ned, with unwonted
animation in his eye, as the thought came upon
him that he could follow the track of the sled all the way
(he knew not how far it was) to the city.

“I won't do any such thing! I'm not going to be hung
in my old age for any such brat as you! Go, lay down.
Go, I say! Go to sleep, or I'll put you in the back room,
where there's one or two left for to-morrow night.”

Ned threw himself down on his pallet, shivering with terror.
But no sleep visited his lids. He lay there, mentally
repeating the prayers which Susan had taught him, and
watching the motions of the old woman.

Meg soon became oppressed with drowsiness; and after
sitting for some length of time with her eyes fixed upon
the sinking embers, as if in meditation of a plan to dispose
of the boy, she began very deliberately to remove her outer
garments preparatory to lying down. She had been compelled
to stagger through an embankment of the drifted
snow under the pressure of her horrible burden; and it was
now her care to remove the dampness from her shoes and
stockings. The former she drew from her feet, and placed
them upon the warm hearth; the latter she hung up on
either side of the fire-place.

Poor Ned could not but be reminded of the time when
he too had been in the habit of hanging up his stockings at
Susan's fire-side. And this, too, was Christmas eve! How
cheerless and dreary for him! What a contrast to the
comforts and endearments he had been accustomed to!

With such reflections as these, there came an idea into
his mind, prompted doubtless by some pitying angel, that
the little wrinkled old woman before him, might not be able
to detain him there if he were once boldly to assert his determination
to leave the house. But whither could he go,
if he were to make his escape on such a night as that? No
matter. He did not even think of what might become of
him, or befall him, when once beyond the purlieus of that

detestable abode. His teeming thoughts only pointed to
the means of escape; and every moment that now elapsed
strengthened his resolution to make the attempt.

After nodding in her chair, and uttering unconsciously
many disjointed remarks, having reference to the dreadful
business of the night, and to the unexpected possession of
the boy, Meg arose suddenly, and grasping the lamp exclaimed:
“Hoity toity! where does this cold wind come
from? I must have left the outer door open when Jack
druv off.”

She passed into the room where the dead were deposited,
in her bare feet, for the purpose of remedying her supposed
neglect. Ned then rose up and buttoned his overcoat.
His cap and shoes had not been removed. Turning to the
door leading into the passage, he gently raised the latch
and passed through. He groped his way along the dark
narrow passage to the front door. It was locked, and the
key had been removed! He then retraced his steps and
sought the door in the rear. This was bolted and barred
very securely. He drew back the bolts, and commenced
removing the bar, which was an iron one. Just then the
old woman was heard.

“Boy! where are you? What did you git up for?
Gone! You little rascal, I'll skin you alive if you try to git
away!”

Her naked feet were heard patting along the floor. She
ran into the passage with the lamp in one hand, and a heavy
cane in the other. But her vision being very defective,
she had traversed the greater portion of the distance to the
front door before discovering that the boy was not there,
and that the door was quite fast.

“You little wretch, you!” she exclaimed upon turning,
and beholding Ned at the other extremity of the passage.
“I'll beat you to a jelly, if you don't go back and lay
down!” she continued, approaching her victim.

Ned had removed the bar by the time she came within
striking distance of him. But instead of submitting, although
unable to open the door which turned inwards,
without the risk of being prostrated, he brandished the iron
bar threateningly, and declared he would defend himself.

“Come back, I say!” screamed Meg, really intimidated

by the glowing eye and menacing attitude of the brave
boy.

“I will not!” said he; “you have no right to keep me
here. If you strike me, I will strike you back. You had
better keep off!”

By this time the old woman's feet pained her. They
were turning blue with the cold. She stooped down a
moment and placed her hands upon them. To do this she
had to relinquish the cane. Then Ned opened the door
and sprang out.

“Seize him, Tiger!” exclaimed Meg, following him into
the yard, and plunging with her naked feet into the snow.
A ferocious short-nosed brindled bull-dog issuing from a
box, confronted the appalled child. The animal, growling,
displayed his formidable teeth. Ned was upon the point of
suing for mercy, when he discovered that the dog was
chained. The clouds had passed away, and the moon was
now shining brightly. He perceived that the dog had
advanced as far as the chain would permit him, and there
was still space sufficient for him to pass round the house
without being within his reach. The boy, unheeding the old
woman, stepped slowly along near the wall, and apparently
with presence of mind and great deliberation.

“If he tries to bite me, I will strike him!” said Ned,
still brandishing the iron bar.

“I'll unlock the chain!” said the old woman, rattling
the keys in her pocket. But in her agitation, after she
had found the right one, her fingers being benumbed, it
fell from her grasp into the snow. She suffered much
from the coldness of her feet, and could not have patience
to search for the key with the requisite diligence. These
were precious moments, not to be lost. Ned vanished
around the corner, and was soon traversing the narrow
lane with all the fleetness of which he was capable.

He followed the track of the sled. He knew that if he
pursued it long enough, it would lead him into the city. He
had no disposition to sleep. At every bound his spirits
arose and his resolution was strengthened.