University of Virginia Library

26. CHAPTER XXVI.
AMBITION AND ITS ACCOMPANIMENTS.

Immediately after the last described interview between
Mallex and Bainton, a dissolution of partnership had been
consummated. But before a fortnight had elapsed subsequently
to that event, a new connexion was agreed upon,
articles were signed, and the reconciled parties were partners
again under the style of bankers and note-brokers.

Mallex was a desperate and dangerous man, as Bainton

was well aware. The latter was unstable, fearful, and at
times a prey to remorse; and a perfect knowledge of his
facile character induced the former to make the attempt
at reunion. It was successful. And then it was not
difficult for Mallex, with his really strong mind, to convince
his partner that there could not possibly be any safety
for them unless they disavowed the existence of a legitimate
heir of the Parkes, and employed all means in their power
to suppress or destroy every species of evidence which might
be employed by Persever against them. As to the manner
in which the elder Parke had been put out of the way,
Mallex, the hardened villain! did not hesitate to assume the
entire responsibility of the act. And he consoled his more
conscientious associate in iniquity with the argument that,
although the law would adjudge them equally guilty, yet
as Bainton was not privy to the crime, had not previously
sanctioned the measure, nor approved it afterwards, he
could not be morally responsible for any portion of it, nor
culpable in the eyes of God! He did not hesitate, knowing
the character of the one to whom he was speaking, to
use the name of his maker, and to take it vain.

Then followed wine, and such other luxuries as the reckless
man well knew how to employ. Much hilarity characterized
the occasion. Radley, hitherto never fully
trusted with the secrets of the partners who had so often
employed him; Tom Denny, although informed of everything,
yet bound to the most guilty one by a tie which it was
impossible to sever; Fawner, the old emaciated clerk—
once an affluent merchant, then a bankrupt, subsequently
secretary to an insurance company which failed, and then
almost a beggar, when taken into the employ of the
brokers—was too happy to be permitted to earn his bread,
and too grateful to those who fed him, ever to see or hear
anything to their prejudice; and the two or three other
clerks belonging to the establishment, were present at the
entertainment, and contributed to the satisfaction of the
heads of the house, by their hearty, and somewhat boisterous
congratulations. Both Mallex and Bainton, when
pointedly complimented by their employees, even condescended
to rise and make short speeches. And it was on
this occasion that Mallex announced that the good people

of the — district, where he had property and voted, had
given him an intimation of their purpose to elect him as
their representative in Congress. He declared he had
private information, upon which he could rely, that after
one or two slight impediments were removed, there would
be no difficulty in getting the nomination. After that, his
election would follow of course. The impediments he
referred to might be removed, partly by his own action,
and partly by the services of a friend, and such a friend
he doubted not was then present.

At this announcement there was a spontaneous offer of
services; it was unanimous, being even participated in by
poor old Fawner, whose pale, wrinkled face was illuminated
by several parallel streaks of red, produced by a superabundance
of wine.

“Thou art the man!” said Mallex, placing his hand
familiarly on the shoulder of his aged dependent, when
the party were in the act of separation.

“I should be very happy—very happy indeed, to be
able to serve you, sir,” responded the flattered and delighted
old man.

“Remain with me, and we will confer on the subject.”

The obedient servitor sat down obsequiously on the sofa
that was pointed out to him, where he remained in silence
until the rest of the guests had departed.

“Mr. Fawner,” said Mallex, striding slowly to and fro
in front of his attentive clerk, “my determination to go to
Congress I suppose meets your approbation?”

“My approbation? Certainly, sir! I should be proud
to see the respected head of the house which employs my
humble talents, elevated to so dignified a position.”

“The position, my friend,” remarked the sleek bill-broker,
“is not generally considered one of dignity. Men
alike destitute of talents and principle often find access to
that body.”

“Very true, sir—very true,” responded the serious old
clerk, placing his hand piously on his breast; “and
therefore there is a greater necessity for selecting men of
character and mind to represent us. Without we have
such men to conduct the government, the good Providence
which made us a free people, must sooner or later destroy

our prosperity!” Fawner was an exemplary member of a
religious denomination.

“True enough, Fawner. Such a catastrophe is to be
feared, unless a speedy reformation takes place. But
how is it to be accomplished? You see the best men,
the pious men, men of the greatest talents, and highest
standing in the community, are almost invariably neglected.
And who are the chosen ones? Those who labour for the
nomination by all sorts of intrigues and inducements.
It would be utterly impossible for me to be elected if I did
not proceed by indirection, and likewise by direct solicitations.
I must follow the beaten path of the demagogues,
Fawner, or I shall never be a Congressman. Now I want
your candid opinion, whether or not I will be justifiable in
using such means to obtain a seat in the national legislature,
when it is my firm determination, once there, to
labour for the reforms we both so ardently desire?”

“I—I have no doubt of it, sir! It is the only way to
get in; and as you say, good men can never be there,
unless they go in that way. The motive is everything,
sir—and I'll answer for it yours is altogether unobjectionable.”

“I hope so, Fawner; I think so; and once there it
shall be my study how to make my acts demonstrative of
it. But let us get there first. Although perhaps not two
hundred of the voters in the district where I have sojourned
for several years are personally known to me, yet I have,
I think, secured a majority of the nominating committee.
I will conceal nothing from you. It was done in this
manner. By a little management, some expense, and
liberal promises, I obtained the favour of most of the
tavern-keepers. Do not be startled—I know you are `a
prohibitory man,' except on occasions of commendable
rejoicing—for the end I had in view you know was a good
one. These tavern-keepers for many years have made the
representatives. Perhaps my work is already consummated.
I hope so. But it may be well to put it beyond all
contingency, and you are the man to help me do it.”

“I? I'll do all I can! Only tell me how to act, sir!”
said Fawner, throwing up his spindling arms with unwonted
animation.

“I thought I could count on you, Fawner!” said Mallex,
pausing abruptly, and sitting down beside the old man.
“A little address, a little activity on the part of a friend,
will accomplish the business. It is true I am your junior,
but not so active—not so agile—for I am getting to be
corpulent—”

“Sir, I've often heard people say you looked like a
member of Congress.”

“Have you? But to the point. There is one innkeeper
in the district, with whom, of course, I have no
personal acquaintance, but whom my friends tell me is an
influential, stubborn, impracticable man. We are afraid to
offer him money, lest he might expose us, and blow us sky
high; and I am told there is but one individual living who
has a controlling influence over him—his wife.”

“His wife?”

“Yes, his wife. She rules him with a rod of iron.
When she decides, he is all submission.”

“Are there any children?”

“You are a genius, Fawner! You have caught the
idea instinctively! They have two children, a boy and a
girl; and I am told they are ill-bred ugly brats; yet it is
said their mother believes them to be prodigies of beauty
and talent. You have a knack of captivating the hearts of
children. Childless yourself, it has been observed that you
have an affection for other's people's children.”

“I have a weakness that way, I confess; and if the
little girl should only smile on me once, I'll engage that
she will not be frightened at me afterwards.” The secret
of Fawner's efforts to please the children grew out of the
ill-impression he generally made on them at first sight,
which mortified him, and hence his efforts to ingratiate
himself in their affections.

“Very well,” said Mallex, rising. “I'll undertake the
boy. We will drive out to the village to-morrow. We
shall not disclose our names until we have won the children.
Be ready early in the morning. Stay,” he continued,
seeing his newly own electioneering colleague
about to withdraw, and fearing that if suffered to depart
something might occur to extinguish his zeal, “suppose
you remain here all night. Tom and I are the only occupants.

The boy will see that you have everything needful
for your comfort.”

Fawner, of course, made no objection. Tom was called,
and conducted the humble guest to his chamber.

“My son,” said Fawner, after looking carefully (all
aged persons do everything carefully) about the room,
“can you conveniently procure me a bible?”

“A what?”

“A bible. I always read a chapter before I lie down.”

“No, sir. I'm sorry to say it.”

“Ah me! There is one in the counting-house, and I
supposed Mr. Mallex was never without one in his dwelling.
Perhaps he has taken it out to his country-house.
He is a good man, Tom. Reverence him. Good night.”

Tom withdrew without moving his lips. But there were
secret whisperings within. And the strict professor, as
he lay awake on the downy couch, could not blind himself
to a consciousness of internal monitions that he had consented
to play a part in the political game which, if it
were not absolutely sinful, could be nothing less than derogatory
to one of his years and habits. But was it not a
duty he owed his patron and protector? That was it!
The rich man fed him. Wealth was all-powerful. How
hard is it for the strictest of the pharisees to resist the
slightest importunities of a rich man!

And Mallex, when left alone, surveyed his herculean
form, for he seemed to fatten on villainy, in a large mirror.
He stood many moments regarding his lineaments in silence,
and then gave vent to a burst of satanic laughter.

“I will commit to memory some twenty texts,” said he,
“from the bible; and then I may pass for a very gentlemanly
pious member of Congress, provided I get the nomination.
A few days will tell the story. After that I
shall have use for the scripture, unless the law-dog Persever
crosses my path. He should have died in the prairies.
If he balks me now, let him beware!” Saying this
the banker strode into his chamber, uttering a low snakelike
hiss, and brandishing his clenched fists.

Neither the chagrins nor the meditated vengeances of
the rich man had as yet the power to rob him of his rest.
On the contrary, his anticipated triumphs, by whatever

means to be consummated, afforded him unquestionable delight.
If at every step in crime one were sensible to the
whispers of a violated conscience, or the excruciating goadings
of terrible apprehensions, a large portion of the bad
men of the world would be likely to abandon their iniquitous
operations. It is most generally when they can accomplish
nothing more of evil, that they are visited by the
anguish of remorse.

Early the next day Mallex and Fawner were driven
across the country embraced within the limits of the —th
congressional district. The horses were whipped into a
great speed, which was continued in a circuitous course,
sometimes in an eccentric line, and always apparently
without any fixed destination, until they manifested decided
symptoms of weariness, when the coachman was
directed to proceed to the “Red Lobster,” the inn kept
by Jerry Snyder, the impracticable committee man. Here
Mallex and Fawner alighted, and proceeded to the taproom.
Not finding the host within, they entered the room
beyond, which they understood was not unfrequently made
to answer the triple purpose of parlour, dining-room, and
chamber.

There they had the fortune to meet with Mrs. Snyder,
who, happening to be apparelled in a new dress, and having
triumphed that morning in some disagreement with her
husband, bestowed upon them a very polite reception.

“Take seats, gentlemen,” said she. “Take that, sir,”
she continued, addressing Mallex, and pointing to an old
arm-chair mounted on rockers, which she had just risen
from. “I don't intend to set in it myself. It's at your
sarvice.”

“If it must be so,” said Mallex, taking the chair, “and
it is your intention, madam, to go about your house affairs,
perhaps you would be so obliging as to have breakfast
prepared for us. We have ridden far, and have keen
appetites. We were told that the `Red Lobster' was
famous for its comforts, and we rejoice that we have been
able to reach it thus early.”

“Oh, sir, it'll be obleeging me. It's our business. You
shall have the best! Yes—the people ginerally say we
keep a good house, and I hope we desarve it. Is there
anything special, you'd have?”

“We'll leave it entirely to your discretion, madam.
And we are the sort of travellers, which I believe are not
very abundant, who happen to care nothing for the expense.”

“That's true as gospel, sir. They aint as plenty as
blackberries.”

“If you could accommodate us with some fresh, rich
milk, madam!” said poor Fawner, who really did not feign
hunger.

“Plenty of it, sir. We never skim the milk that's
drunk.”

“And if you should happen to have a lobster—”

“We make it a pint to keep 'em ever since our sign was
put up. I'll git you a first rate breakfast, never fear.
You'll excuse me, gentlemen, if I must leave you alone a
short time—”

“Oh, certainly!” said Mallex. “I believe your good
husband is not at home?”

“No, sir, he's gone to the city, as I think, on a fool's
errand.”

“Ah, indeed! Something in relation to politics, I suppose?”

“You've hit it. He favours Prattle's nomination, without
ever having the first chat with Mallex. He says he's
heard some hard things whispered agin Mallex, such as
being proud, and having wronged some poor boy out of
his fortin. If it's true, he must be a beast. But say he
is, I should like to know if any of the candidates is ever
much better? I told him to go on, and see what he could
larn, but to be sure and git my opinion before he decided.”

“And that was both skilful and prudent in you. I hope
he will hear your opinion.”

“Hear it? Well, if he don't it'll be a wonder? Yes,
and be governed by it, too. Let him tell me all he hears
that lawyer say, and then I'll have my say.”

“Lawyer? Did you say lawyer, madam?”

“Yes, sir. He's gone to see a Mr. Persevere, a lawyer,
and a inemy of Mr. Mallex. But I'm keeping you from
your breakfasts. I'll hurry it. You look pale and
hungry.”

“Thank you, madam,” said Mallex, striving to suppress

his emotion. “But could you not prevail on the two
pretty children we saw in the porch to come in and amuse
us while you are absent? We are particularly fond of nice
well-bred, intelligent children, such as those we saw on the
porch. Excuse me. Are they yours, madam?”

“Yes, sir. I'm obleeged for your compliments. But
everybody says they are smart children. The boy is very
familiar with strangers. I hope you won't think him too
bold. He's always trying to learn. He'll get up in the
world.”

“I shall be entertained by him; and my friend will be
delighted with his sister.”

“His sister's a bashful piece, which is nothing though
but modesty. I'll send 'em to you.” And making a
curtsy, Mrs. Snyder withdrew.

Scarcely a minute elapsed before the two hopeful children,
having the permission of their parent, ran into the
room occupied by the guests.

“Come here, my fine fellow,” said Mallex, speaking to
the boy, while Fawner, some distance in the rear, beckoned
to the girl.

“Have you got something for me?” asked the ragged
urchin.

“Oh yes. Here's a piece of gold—a little dollar—that
will buy you many nice things.”

“Laws! Where is it? Le'me see it!” cried the little
fellow, rushing forward and springing upon the knee of the
candidate.

“I'll give it to you presently. But first tell me your
name,” said Mallex, placing his hand on the lad's shoulder,
and looking him in the face.”

“Job.”

“Job?”

“Yes, Job. And daddy says that's the name of a
mighty rich man, who's going to run; but'll be beat.”

“What makes your daddy think so.”

“'Kaise, daddy says he won't fight.”

“Won't fight?”

“No! He says he must be a dunghill, kaise the lawyer
and other folks call him bad names, and he let's'em do it.”

“And is that the reason he'll be beaten?”

“Yes. The folks, daddy says, won't vote for any but
game cocks. One of our old blue hen's chickens can whip
a whole raft of dunghills.”

“But you must tell your daddy that Mr. Job Mallex is
no dunghill.”

“He aint?”

“No, he'll fight!” and Mallex said this with such a ferocious
countenance that the boy stared at him in surprise.

“He will?”

“Yes, he will fight. And he is going to punish that
lawyer for telling lies on him.”

“Laws! I wonder if he wouldn't let me see him do it?
But how do you know? Did he tell you?”

“I am Mr. Mallex, myself.”

“Laws! I'll tell mammy! Mammy likes you better
than Mr. Prattle, kaise he always does his talking to
daddy, and never says much to mammy or me. Mammy
told sister and me that you was fine gentleman, and we
must behave nice and genteel to you.”

Just then the little girl, who had likewise been perched
on Fawner's knee, happened accidentally to knock the old
man's hat off, and his bald head frightened her. She
sprang to the floor and endeavored to escape from him.
He pursued; but his endeavours to reassure her were futile.
She began to cry, and struggled to get away, notwithstanding
the tempting promises of the smiling old man.
But when the scene began to grow noisy, the bell rang for
breakfast.

“I'll show the way!” said the undaunted boy, when
Mallex arose. And he conducted them into an adjoining
room where the repast had been set out for them.

Mallex and Fawner sat at the table with voracious appetites,
and congratulating themselves, in audible tones, upon
having been so fortunate as to find the way to the “Red
Lobster.” Mrs. Snyder, smiling graciously, poured out
the coffee, which they drank and praised. They never had
met with lobsters so deliciously prepared; and the bread,
which was home-made, was infinitely superior to any they
had been accustomed to find elsewhere.

Mrs. Snyder, seeing her guests apparently so well
pleased and heartily employed, embraced an early occasion

[ILLUSTRATION]

ELECTIONEERING FOR CONGRESS.

[Description: 620EAF. Illustration page. Image of two men and two children. The younger, fatter man is sitting in a rocking chair with one boy in his lap. The older, thinner man is caoxing a distressed boy over to where the others are sitting. The boys are both barefoot and a little messy looking.]

to withdraw, that she might question the children, not
doubting they had as usual ascertained the names and objects
of the gentlemen.

No sooner had the hostess disappeared, than the coffee,
which had been merely tasted, was thrown out of the window.
The lobster followed, and was quickly consumed by
a pig The bread was thrust up the chimney, and the
cxecrable butter was buried in the ashes.

“Excuse me,” said Mrs. Snyder, coming in hastily, and
smiling very pleasantly, “I didn't know who it was I had
the honour of entertaining. My Job says you are Mr.
Mallex himself.”

“I am, indeed, madam,” said Mallex; “but no excuses
are necessary. There can be no doubt we have had the best
your house affords.”

“That is just so, sir. We always set before strangers
the best of everything. It is a duty we owe to the public.
But if I had known it was Mr. Mallex, I shouldn't have
spoken so free on the subject of the election, or leastways
so discouraging.”

“You did not discourage me, my dear madam.”

“And I wont! You'll find it so. I like you better
than that soft, milk-and-water Prattle, and that's enough.
You shall have Snyder's influence. Count on the `Red
Lobster.' And my boy says you'll thrash that Persevere
lawyer who's been slandering you.”

“I shall certainly do that, madam.”

“Then your business is done. We're all peaceable
people, but we like spunk. A brave man is always popular.
When they see you ain't afraid to fight, nobody'll
give you any offence.”

“I shall be very happy, truly, madam, if it be my good
fortune to enjoy the favour of the `Red Lobster.”'

“If, when I say you shall! Never fear! Snyder 'll
never say nay, when I say yes. Though I think Prattle
has made some sort of a bargain with him.”

“Madam, if elected, I will have influence at Washington.
Your husband shall have an office in the custom
house, if he desires it, and your son, when old enough,
may, by my means, be put in the naval school, or sent to
West Point.”

“I declare, you're the man for me. Consider your business
done!”

Mallex and Fawner, after taking a friendly leave of the
hostess, proceeded on their way. They travelled slowly,
bowing to all the good people they met, and praising all
the rural improvements they passed, when the proprietors
were near enough to overhear them. At the smithy of
every village, either the shoes of the horses, or some portion
of the iron of the carriage had to be examined, and Mallex
never failed to reward the honest craftsmen. His
horses were fed six times in the forenoon at as many
different inns. And wherever he went it became known
to every one, that he was the rich candidate for nomination
before the district convention about to assemble.

Finally, wearied, and perhaps somewhat disgusted, the
ambitious rich man ordered the coachman to direct his
course towards his country house, some few miles to the
north. As they passed through a long lane at a slow pace,
Mallex, who had fallen into a fit of abstraction, was
aroused by his humble companion.

“If it would not be presumption, sir, I would humbly
ask if I did not hear you say that you intended to fight
the lawyer—”

“Fawner, you and I were made for each other. Presumption!
Don't use the word again, my friend. But,
I repeat, our minds must have been made of similar material;
for I was just then thinking on the same subject which
occupied your thoughts. My dear Fawner, I know you
have religious scruples on the subject of hostile meetings,
and I respect them. I would not for the world do
violence to your principles. I need a friend. I must endeavour
to find a trusty, generous, magnanimous friend,
who will serve me as one good friend delights to serve another.
But, my dear Fawner, do not imagine that I shall
be offended, because your conscience, and the discipline of
your church, will not permit you to do me the kind office
I shall require of some one less scrupulous, and altogether
free from the shackles of the preachers.”

“Oh, sir, I am not opposed in conscience to resenting
an affront or injury. Six times I have had disputes with
our minister, and out of that number, five times I was in

the right. I owe you much, and feel it to be my duty to
serve you. If I can answer the purpose, sir—You
know, sir, I was out in '13, and smelt gunpowder—”

“True, Fawner, and it is well known that you behaved
bravely on the field.”

“Oh, sir, I'm no coward. I never was afraid of danger!
And if we should have another war, sir, I would delight in
drawing the sword once more, sir. I was a captain, sir—”

“I know it. Now hear me,” said Mallex, interrupting
his companion, who was fired with animation at the recollection
of exciting scenes in his more youthful and better
days. Mallex knew well that the poor old man was an
enthusiast on the subject of defending one's country; and
that, being so stimulated, he was in the right condition to
hear what he wished to deliver. “My dear Fawner, I know
you are neither a coward nor a pharisee. War is sanctioned
by all nations, and is justified in the bible. Each
nation is but a family, and all men are merely members of
national families. If we did not wage war in defence of
right, and to repel aggression, we could not be respected,
and would be imposed on, and despoiled by our neighbours.
Is it not so?”

“Most certainly, sir!”

“Well, then, it is right and proper that Congress should
declare war when we are sufficiently provoked by insult
and injury. So much is indisputable, as regards nations.
But then the law-makers decree that individual members
of the nation shall not redress their own grievances when
assaulted or offended by their neighbours. That may
be legally right, but I contend it is rationally wrong.
The laws do not always afford an adequate remedy. If I
am justifiable in repelling with violence a foreign foe because
the laws of nations do not sufficiently protect us, I
say I have also the right to redress a private wrong when
the statutes do not furnish me ample protection. What is
the difference in the eyes of God?”

“Upon my word I don't know!”

“I thought not! There is none. But such laws for
the restraint of the injured, and for the protection of the
malignant and the cowardly, must have a demoralizing
influence in the community. It will breed slanderers,
assassins of private character, who are encouraged, by a

sense of security, to commit every species of outrage on
the peaceable and unoffending. Our sons will be pusillanimous,
our daughters will be without virtue, and our
posterity will be degraded in the eyes of the world! Look
at the difference between the states where duelling is practised
and where it is punished. In the former there is
not a millionth part of the scandals and calumnies which
disgrace the latter!”

“It does appear so, sir!”

“To be sure it does! Fawner, I am the victim of a
dark slanderer, and may lose the nomination unless I
triumph over him. Although everybody may seem to be
theoretically opposed to the use of personal chastisement
in such cases, I tell you there is not a man, woman, or
child in this district that don't despise a coward. Job Mallex
is no coward!”

“Coward? No, sir!”

“Even you, my best friend, would look upon me with
contempt, if you thought me deficient in courage.”

“But I don't, sir—I don't think so! I know to the
contrary, sir!”

“You believe to the contrary—but you don't know it.
I hope you will know it. If I get this nomination and
election, which amounts to the same thing, for the dramsellers
and primary drill-managers control the unthinking
voters, my habits will be necessarily changed. I shall be
much absent. My partner, Bainton, you know, is not
an efficient man. We shall have to introduce a third
partner, Fawner. That is, if I am elected.”

“And that seems to be a very sure thing.”

“Not sure, by any means, unless the foul mouth of
Persever be effectually closed. I have a plan—an honourable
plan—to do it. But I shall have need of a true, confidential
friend. I know such an one—but I fear his religious
scruples would prevent him from acting.”

“If you mean me, sir, have no doubts. I'll strike him
if he repeats his slanders! I'll go further, sir; I'll make
him retract everything.”

“That would not answer, my dear Fawner. I must do
it. I must call him out. You understand me. I must
call him out! There will be no fight. All slanderers,

they say, are cowards. But the fame of the thing will
secure me the nomination and election. Alexander Hamilton,
a communing member of the church, found it necessary
to fight. True, he fell. If I should fall, Fawner,
you are my executor, and may be my successor in business—that
is, provided your scruples shall not prevent you
from serving your friend. I have learned that you conducted
an affair some forty years ago in a most skilful
manner.”

“That was Major Hook's! I was young, then. He shot
his man down. Then I said it should cease. But the
major granted another fire. I protested against it and
left the field. His antagonist, propped before and behind,
then crippled the major for life. Those were exciting
times. I was young then, and rich. But now—”

“You are older, and decidedly poor. But you might
be rich again, if the church —”

“The church! I'll blink it, sir! I'll do my best for
you. Command me, sir. You've been my friend—I'll be
yours. It is a shame for any one to be slandered, and to
have his prospects destroyed, without the privilege of
chastising his enemy. I've heard the tales that rascal
whispered through the city concerning the Parkes and that
bastard, Ned Lorn. I'll do it, sir!”

“Thank you, Fawner! I'll write a challenge to-night.
Oh, I would rather be dead, than have the world
believe me the bad man this wretch describes! You have
no idea how many sleepless nights and bitter tears he has
cost me!”

“The villain shall suffer for it!”

“I wont kill him, Fawner. I wont even wound him.
All I desire is that the world shall know I called him to
an account, and that I am not a guilty coward.”

“And the world shall know it, sir!”

“It shall!”

They were now in front of the banker's country residence,
and were soon driven through the lawn up to the
door, when they descended. Mallex, after ordering the
coachman to remain in his seat, desired Fawner to accompany
him to his library. When seated, Mallex wrote a challenge
to Perserver; a peremptory demand to meet him on

the field of honour, without equivocation or contingency.
He merely alleged as the cause of his demand, certain
words uttered by the lawyer during an interview in the
presence of witnesses, which words were slanderous, and
if suffered to go unnoticed, would be deeply injurious to
his reputation.

He then wrote an article for a newspaper, which had
been established by his capital, denouncing the false pretensions
of an impostor, as designed to affect the standing
of respectable men, &c. He did not name any of the
parties; but any reader who had heard any portion of
Ned Lorn's history, could not be at a loss to know who
the denunciation was aimed at.

Fawner was charged with both of the papers, and was
requested to proceed at once, and execute the mission with
the least possible delay. He obeyed with alacrity; and
without uttering more than a hasty adieu, departed.

Mallex then strode to and fro in his spacious library, his
eyes glaring fiercely, and his hands performing menacing
gestures.

“I'll shoot the meddling scoundrel!” he muttered. “I'll
grind to powder every one who dares to interpose between
me and the objects I have in view. Bainton, I think, is
secured. Perhaps I did wrong to inform him of the manner
of Parke's death. But that is the chain which binds
him to me. Then there is the old hag! How shall I get rid
of her? Who's there?” he cried, seeing the shadow of
some one gliding from the door. No answer being received,
he strode quickly out in the passage and seized the
intruder. It was Tom Denny—or rather his own son.
He dragged him by the collar into the library, and locked
the door. Then regarding Tom's composed features a
few moments in silence, he burst into a boisterous fit of
laughter.

“So, Tom, you listened again, did you?”

“I did, sir,” was the prompt reply.

“But why should you play the spy on me?”

“I did not design it. I waited till Mr. Fawner withdrew
before approaching, and merely paused, and sought
to retire when I heard your words of passion.”

So. I believe you. You cannot possibly have any

rational motive for being my enemy. But it was the same
old theme—the infernal old hag—you heard me speaking
about, or to, once before. No matter. I was surprised
to find any one within earshot of me, and must correct the
habit of uttering my thoughts when alone, or rather when
I suppose myself to be alone. But what brought you from
the city? I did not tell you to come here?”

“I—I—thought I might be of service to you, sir,” stammered
the young man.

“And so you may if you be really disposed to serve me.
Get that infernal old harpy out of my way—”

“I will do no murder.”

“Murder! Who asked you? If you had a particle of
genius you would send her off—so far away that she could
not return. Or else plague her or frighten her into madness,
so she might be confined the rest of her days. If
none of these, you might easily entice her hither, and
entrap her in the old prison-room above, where she would
be comfortable, but where her voice could not be heard.”

The mansion was an old stone structure, erected before
the Revolution, and among its many rooms, was one which
seemed to have been designed for the confinement of prisoners.
The only window in it was too high from the floor
to be easily reached, and was guarded on the inside by iron
bars deeply fixed in the solid masonry. It had been observed
that when the shutters of the window were closed,
which was effected by a wire that entered the window of
the chamber above, no ordinary voice within the closed
room could be heard without or within.

“I might do that, sir,” answered Tom, after some hesitation,
“if I were assured her detention would be the only
consequence.”

“You have my assurance of it. It would be unsafe to—
to—no matter. Her cub of a son, Dick, would be suspicious.
No; we would merely confine her until she could give
a satisfactory assurance that she would ever after cease to
annoy us.”

“Then, sir, the work is done,” said Tom.

“You speak so confidently, sir, that I have faith in your
promise.”

“She is already there, sir.”

“Already there? Do you mean to say she is now in
that chamber.”

“I do, sir.”

“Tom, you surprise me more and more. You are
worthy to be my son. The game is in my own hands, and
I'll make assurance doubly sure!”

“Remember your promise to me, sir!” said Tom, placing
his hand on his father's arm, and arresting his steps as he
moved eagerly towards the door.

“I will, Tom. I'll keep faith with you. But I must
see her. Is she not in a furious passion?”

“By no means, sir; on the contrary she seems to be
delighted. She declares that you have either promised to
marry her, or that she intends to compel you to do so, I do
not recollect which. She has not learned yet that I am
your son, and has made me many promises. She likes the
furniture, the carpets, &c., and says she will soon be mistress
of all.”

“Ha—ha—ha! How did you get her here, Tom? I
thought she was too wise to venture alone into the lion's
den.”

“Oh, she thinks I am won over to her interest—”

“Did she divulge anything?” asked Mallex, quickly.

“She did not, although I endeavoured to induce her to
confide in me, and make known the nature of the secret by
which she supposes you are to be awed into a compliance
with her horrible demands.”

“Very good! She forgets not the danger that menaces
herself!”

“And she was quite drunk, too. She came to your
house in the city, and finding that you were not at home,
declared she would go to your country residence if anybody
would tell her the way. As she strode out of the
door I heard her ask a stranger, who made no reply, if he
knew where you lived in the country: and supposing she
might ask others, I called her back, and said as I was
coming hither myself I would show her the way.”

“Tom, you are my son! But where was her dark
shadow, her scowling son Dick?”

“He stood at the corner.”

“I thought so!”

“When the buggy was ready, I invited her to get in—”

“Was it in front—”

“No, sir; it was in the alley. I led her through the
yard to the stable. She seemed to grow more intoxicated
every moment, as if she had been drinking very recently,
and only muttered something unintelligible about Dick, as
I assisted her up. I whipped out and drove in the opposite
direction from Dick. But she soon snatched the reins from
my hands, and, although she was unable to speak distinctly,
I was astonished to find she could drive very well. She
turned back and drove to where her son was standing. She
paused merely long enough to tell him to go home—”

“Did he see you?” asked Mallex, quickly.

“No, sir. I leaned back in the carriage, resolved that
he should not behold my features, and he did not. She
then drove but a few paces farther before she replaced the
reins in my hand, and told me to drive hither. I did so,
and had no difficulty in conducting her to the prison-room,
where I said you would see her.”

“Admirable, my boy! you may have the horse and
buggy. No! sell them. Drive some fifty miles away,
when you leave here, and sell them. Put the money in
your pocket. It shall be yours.”

“I hope, sir, your desire to remove the objects which
Dick could identify, does not proceed from—”

“No. I understand. She shall live.”

They proceeded together towards the prison room. When
they drew near the door, Tom suggested, in a whisper, that
his father should see the old woman alone, which was assented
to.

Mallex pushed open the door and entered the chamber,
conjecturing what would be the nature of the salutation
from his unconscious prisoner, and triumphing in the conviction
that she could no longer dictate terms to him.

She sat leaning back in a large arm-chair fast asleep.
Her bonnet, a fine new one, was crushed out of all shape;
and although in a deep slumber, the horrible involuntary
vibrations of her head kept the chair in motion. She had
rings on her coarse fingers, and a fine pin sparkled on her
breast.

“Old woman!” said Mallex, in a deep and distinct

voice, after regarding her a few moments in silence.
“Awake!” he continued, placing his hand on the back of
the chair, and pushing it so far forward, that if she had
not obeyed him she would probably have fallen on the
floor. As it was, she found herself in a standing position
when her eyes opened.

“Tom! Dick! No! It's you, my darling pet!”

Mallex merely laughed at her.

“Why, my sweet imp, I didn't know you'd come so
soon. Why don't you talk to me?”

“Woman, what do you want? Speak your errand.”

“I want this house—I like it. I have about as much
right to it as you. But I want you, too, as I told you
once. And I want a purse of gold, that weighs a full
pound, for a young friend of mine.”

“Nothing else?”

“To be sure—a great many things, since they say you're
so mighty rich. But I can't think of 'em all at once. I'm
glad to find you so liberal, any how.”

“But suppose I refuse to let you have anything?”

“Ha—ha—ha! That would be a purty joke!”

“I think it would be no joke.”

“Yes it would. You darsent say it in yearnest. You
know I have you in my power!”

“No; I don't know that.”

“You do! You know you darsent refuse me anything.”

“I do refuse you everything.”

“After I done that ugly job for you! and would you
run the risk of hanging, rather than share your fortin with
me?”

“You mean the murder of Parke?” asked Mallex, with
composed features and a smile. “You have had your
wages. You have been already paid too much for that
ugly job, as you call it. And as for hanging, I shall not
run any greater risk by refusing to grant your absurd request.”

“Why, how you talk! You seem to take it easier than
you used to.”

“Your own neck would suffer first.”

“I'm old, and may repent. I've got nothing to live for,
or with, but you, my honey. I can't sleep, and mought
almost as well be dead.”

“Were you not asleep a few minutes ago, you impudent
old liar!”

“You talk so bold I must cow you!” said she, with
such an excessive shaking of the head, increased by the
agitation of her nerves, that her crumpled bonnet fell from
her head. “I say I can't sleep in my bed—I can't sleep
at all without brandy and laudnum. I'm tormented by my
conscience, and 'll turn state's evidence! I'll go mad, and
they won't hurt me—but they'll hang you?”

“I have no fears. I shall grant you nothing.”

“Grant nothing? Go write me a deed for this house this
minute, or I'll go and inform on you.”

“Oh, you may stay in the house,” said Mallex, with a
sardonic smile.

“I shall have the house, hey? I thought we were too
good friends to fall out! But go write the deed, honey, and
then we'll be as thick as ever.”

“No.”

“Then I'll go and confess!” said she, making a step
towards the door.

“No you won't!” said Mallex, grasping her arm, and
whirling her into the centre of the room.

“Why you done that as easy as if I had been a baby!
You are stronger than me—but take care!” Saying this
she drew a dagger, which Mallex knocked from her hand
with his cane.

“This will not serve you!” said he, taking up the instrument.

“Wont you let me go?” she asked, panting with excitement
and alarm.

“No. You like the house—stay in it. This room is your
prison. Here you are to live the balance of your days.
And when you die, I'll have you buried under the pig-sty.”

“They'll hunt me here!” said she, glancing up at the
iron bars across the window. “Tom knows I'm here. He'll
tell my Dick.”

“Will he? We'll see. Come in, Tom.” Tom, who had
heard everything, entered.

“Tom! my good boy, wont you tell Dick where I am?”

“No, I am to be your jailor. I must obey my father!”

“Father? He your father!”

“He is my son,” said Mallex, still enjoying his triumph.
He is the child of Olivia, that was sent into Pecan alley.”

“Marcy!” cried the old woman. “I'm trapped! Tom,
did you bring me here to have me confined in this way?”

“I did. I thought it was my duty. And I avoided the
searching eyes of your son, so that he might never know
who it was with you in the buggy.”

“He saw the horse—”

“He'll never see him again!” said Mallex, exultingly.
“We've thought of that.”

“But Tom,” continued the guilty woman, “You don't
know that your father hired me—”

“I do!” cried Tom, interrupting her. “I know it all,
miserable woman! And it was because I knew you might
at any time bring him to—to punishment, that I enticed
you into this room. I would not see my father—Oh,
I am as miserable as anybody!” cried Tom, in tears.

“Let us leave her, Tom,” said Mallex, leading out his
son. “She will need to bed. She can't sleep in one.
We'll leave the chair for her, and the rest of the furniture,
provided she behaves herself. He locked the door.
Then screams were dimly heard. He ran up to the room
above; and pulling the wire, all was changed to silence
and darkness below.