Ivan the Terrible; or, Dark Deeds of Night — page 266: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

262 IVAN THE His arrest was so sudden that he had not been able to pro- vide himself with any necessary change of clothes. He had no money, and even in prison this want is most severely felt. When he entered his cell, the gaoler treated him politely, on account of his gentlemanly exterior and superior manners. The door of his cell was composed of long bars of iron, and a window similarly barred allowed a little light to creep in from the street without. - The gaoler walked up and down past the door every now and then, stopping to have a look at the goldsmith or to speak @ passing word. “Dreary place a gaol is, sir.” “Yes,” Roger answered; ‘‘I was never inside one before, and even now I’m innocent,” “Lor, bless me, sir, you don’t say so? How strange ; but you wouldn’t believe how many innocent folks we have in custody during one year; every one on ’em innocent, mind yer, yet there’s many a round dozen as goes to the gallows for all that.: . - With this consoling reflection, the gaoler took a turn or two up and down, and again stopped before the iron door and peeped in. “Wwe don’t feed ’em very high here,’’ said the old gaoler ; “too much good food might make the prisoners sick. But then you known, sir, if a prisoner has got any money, or something as he can turn into money, he can just give the price of what he wants to the gaoler, you know, and live like a fighting cock,”’ “Can he though ?” answered old Roger, whose thoughts were of his daughter Katerina, and not of food. * Yes—oh, he can do that,” said the gaoler ; “so if so be as how you wants anything, you has only to say the word and give us the coin.” ‘“‘ My dear friend, I have no coin.” ‘“No money! and in prison too !” ‘No, nor friends either.” The turnkey whistled incredulously, as he muttered, “ Neither coin nor friends, and only in for treason, eh ?” With a look of half-contempt on the old goldsmith, the gaoler went away, disgusted to find there was no money likely to change hands. But this was nothing unnatural on the part of the gaoler, or of gaolers generally. These rough fellows with their bundles of keys, look upon the inmates of their various cells much like the keepers of wild animals in the Zoological Gardens, They don’t much care to have tame, ordinary meek, finger- licking animals in cnarge. They long to have a history with each ferocious beast, so that they can tell to those visitors who give them a shilling on the sly, ‘Yes, sir, fine animal, sir, werry fierce ; snapped a man’s head off once, and swallowed it like a pill.” “This other broke loose one night, it was amazing hard to catch him again; he knocked down a whole regimeft of soldiers, and eat the colonel for his lunch.” In like manner, gaolers like to have under their charge men of “character,” not ‘‘good” character exactly, but with a positive history of daring connected with them, so that when any visitors call and palm the hand with silver, they may go from cell to cell and stir up the criminals, not with the long ‘pole, but with “ Hullointhere! How goesit Jack? Let’s have a look at yer.” And then, aside to the curious visitant, they will surely say, “Did you twig that cove, sir?—firm head, hasn’t he? Just for all the world likea house-dog ; andhe can fight, too, can Jack Hawk, Captain Hawk, they calls him ; he broke out of gaol four and twenty times, married a dozen women, and is going to be hung on Monday.” Thus from cell to cell, for the price of beer, will the loquacious gaoler go, and at each step amuse the visitor with tremendous stories of actual or imaginary deeds done by fellows, and all told with such an air that the visitor leaves with the impression that a gaol is far worse than a bear-pit, and that the dangers to keepers of Zoological Gardens are nothing when compared with those of gaolers, TERRIBLE. With some such thought regarding his own importance did the cross old gaoler leave Roger the goldsmith to his own sad? ditations. ects himself on a chair beside another gaoler, he said, “ Rum chap, that there old goldsmith.” “Ts he,though ? What's he in for ?” “ Treason.” © Oh; lor |”? “ Fact, though ; ‘No money ?” | ‘Nor friends either.” “Tt’s a case with him, then.” — “ But what puzzles me is, he is a goldsmith and has got no money.” “ Aye, sure |” hasn’t no money he says.” «“ Because you see your goldsmiths always has some bullion © b ?em.’’ f Just so ; and so has he ; but he wont let on—” “ That’s what I was a thinking; but if he’s going to act like a Jew, why let him ; and when the bread comes round, I shall tell my mate to give him the hardest crust he can find, so as to try his old grinders well, and then he’ll shell out at once if he’s got any.” “TJ did that dodge once, and it acted like a charm,” “The old chap was stingy, and would not fork out, so I gives him a piece of bread as hard asa block of oak, and some water as had been in the place a week. It soon made him haul out his silver, and send for some grub, and of course _———1 “ “ Just so, just so. his coin, and quite right, too. serve out this old traitor here,” The two gaolers were thus conversing when the prison-bell rang. its a few moments Alderman Singleton appeared with a parchment in his hand. : “ Which cell does Roger Markham occupy ?” he asked. You didn’t fail to help yourself out of That’s just the way we must ‘No, 17, sir; this way, sir ; I’ll show it to you, sir,” said both gaolers, bowing and fawning. | “Stand back, knaves. I will find it myself. I have leave to confer with the prisoner.” he “ He is a traitor, sir ; and you might be suspected, sir, if one on us weren’t present.” : “Out upon you, rogues both; stand aside or Ill thwack your heads soundly with my staff.” The old alderman flourished his staff so very closely to the heads of both gaolers, that they were glad to slink back, and stand far aloof from “ No. 17” cell. Old Roger was greatly surprised at the alderman’s unex- pected visit. , “T come to see you, Roger, in order to console you in this your present great trial.” “Mr. Singleton, I feel overpowered by your kindness ; and cannot express my thanks. But, believe me, I am inno- cent.’’ ‘“T know it, as much so as I am. house.” ‘And seen Katerina?” ‘“Yes, She has told me the whole story, and there can be no doubt but that some long-headed knaves have dragged you into their crime without your being aware of it.” The old goldsmith’s eyes were moistened, as he said, I have been to your “But I fear me, alderman, I shall suffer; something tells — meso. Oh, my poor orphan daughter !” “Tt was about her I came to speak, Roger, almost as much as about you.” ) ‘In what can we serve you?” said the old man. ‘‘ Why the thing is simple. Listen to me; you are poor and Tam rich; you are branded as a traitor and perhaps may suffer.” ‘“T am sure to do so, I feel it ; I would not care but for my poor child.” ‘‘ As far as money can aid you I will expend my last groat to aid you in the forthcoming trial ; but, if all should be of no avail, I wish to ask one favour before you die.” ‘What favour can a poor old man bestow upon one so rich (EO LS and influential as you?” GEomichoo S