Part 121 (2/2)

She shook her head sadly, and revealed to him with many prayers for forgiveness that she had been playing a part of late: that she had concealed her father's death from him, and the fatal barrier interposed.

”I was afraid you would be disheartened, and lose your first cla.s.s and perhaps your trial. But you are safe now, dear Alfred; I am sure the judge sees through them; for I have studied him for you. I know his face by heart, and all his looks and what they mean. My Alfred will be cleared of this wicked slander, and happy with some one----Ah!”

”Yes, I mean to be happy with some one,” said Alfred. ”I am not one of your self-sacrificing angels; thank Heaven! Your shall not sacrifice us to your mother's injustice nor to the caprices of fate. We have one another; but you would immolate me for the pleasure of immolating yourself. Don't provoke me too far, or I'll carry you off by force. I swear it, by Him who made us both.”

”Dearest, how wildly you talk.” And with this Julia hung her head, and had a guilty thrill. She could not help thinking that eccentric little measure would relieve her of the sin of disobedience.

After making known to her his desperate resolution, Alfred was silent, and they went sadly side by side; so dear, so near, yet always some infernal thing or other coming between them. They reached a pa.s.sage in a miserable street. At the mouth stood two of Green's men, planted there to follow Skinner should he go out: but they reported all quiet. ”Bring the old gentleman up,” said Green. ”I appointed him six o'clock, and it's on the stroke.” He then descended the pa.s.sage, and striking a light led the way up a high stair. Skinner lived on the fifth story. Green tapped at his door. ”Mr. Barkington.”

No reply.

”Mr. Barkington, I've brought you some money.”

No reply.

”Perhaps he is not at home,” said Mr. Compton.

”Oh, yes, sir, I sent a sharp boy up, and he picked the paper out of the keyhole and saw him sitting reading.”

He then applied his own eye to the keyhole. ”I see something black,”

said he, ”I think he suspects.”

While he hesitated, they became conscious of a pungent vapour stealing through the now open keyhole.

”Hallo!” said Green, ”what is this?”

Fullalove observed coolly that Mr. Skinner's lungs must be peculiarly made if he could breathe in that atmosphere. ”If you want to see him alive, let me open the door.”

”There's something amiss here,” said Green gravely.

At that Fullalove whipped out a tool no bigger than a nutcracker, forced the edge in, and sent the door flying open. The room or den was full of an acrid vapour, and close to them sat he they sought motionless.

”Keep the lady back,” cried Green, and threw the vivid light of his bull's eye on a strange, grotesque, and ghastly scene. The floor was covered with bright sovereigns that glittered in the lamp-light. On the table was an open book, and a candle quite burnt down: the grease had run into a circle.

And, as was that grease to the expired light, so was the thing that sat there in human form to the Noah Skinner they had come to seek. Dead this many a day of charcoal fumes, but preserved from decomposition by those very fumes, sat Noah Skinner, dried into bones and leather waiting for them with his own Hard Cash, and with theirs; for, creeping awestruck round that mummified figure seated dead on his pool of sovereigns, they soon noticed in his left hand a paper: it was discoloured by the vapour, and part hid by the dead thumb; but thus much shone out clear and amazing, that it was a banker's receipt to David Dodd, Esq., for L.

14,010, drawn at Barkington, and signed for Richard Hardie by Noah Skinner. Julia had drawn back, and was hiding her face; but soon curiosity struggled with awe in the others: they peeped at the Receipt: they touched the weird figure. Its yellow skin sounded like a drum, and its joints creaked like a puppets. At last Compton suggested that Edward Dodd ought to secure that valuable doc.u.ment. ”No no,” said Edward: ”it is too like robbing the dead.”

”Then I will,” said Compton.

But he found the dead thumb and finger would not part with the Receipt; then, as a trifle turns the scale, he hesitated in turn: and all but Julia stood motionless round the body that held the Receipt, the soul of the lost Cash, and still, as in life, seemed loth to part with it.

Then Fullalove came beside the arm-chair, and said with simple dignity, ”I'm a man from foreign parts; I have no interest here but justice: and justice I'll do.” He took the dead arm, and the joint creaked: he applied the same lever to the bone and parchment hand he had to the door: it creaked too, but more faintly, and opened and let out this:--

No. 17. BARKINGTON, Nov. 10, 1847.

_Received of_ DAVID DODD, Esq., _the sum of Fourteen Thousand and Ten Pounds Twelve s.h.i.+llings and Six Pence,_

to account on demand

<script>