The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 188: what you’re looking at

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

entrance was anything but the sort of one which would induoe anyone to make a venture. But without any hesitation he rang the bell, and no sooner the last sounds died away, than an old man came to the gate, and looked cariquely at him. “What do you want?” he asked, “To seo my Lord Varney.” “ He is not at home.” And is his steward, Oaleb Oxley, to be seen 99 _“ He is,” returned the man, eyeing him still more curioualy ; ‘and you wish to see him ?” “Edo. Oonduet me if possible, at once into his presence.” | “ Certainly, sir; follow me,’ said the man: ing him across a dull and gloomy en; he admitted him into the tall and solid than. sion, where Lord Varnay in peneral resided. ~> He was taken then into a large room, wherd the old man left him alone. Not for long, however. In a few minutes the door opened, and a tall, gagnt, yellow-visaged man entered. This was Caleb Oxley. His hair was long, biack, afid bristly ; his clothes also black ; his eyes piercing and bright ; and his whole appearance that of one who strives to see into the character of his victim on the instant. “You come to see me?” he said, inquiringly, “Ido. I come from Lady Grace Cowley.” Harold handed him the letter, which the man read with great interest. Then he said in a gloomy voice— *, Young sir, Are you aware of the ptitport of this letter ?” “J am not.” “Thad thought so. It seems you have done grievous wrong to my Lady Grace Cowley.” ‘On the contrary; I have done her a service.” _ “Ab | well, it seems not so, However, there 18 no time to bandy words, you are here and I must obey my orders. You are young, and need no great preparation ; but, if you need it, pray—for this night you die.” ‘“* Madman! what mean you?” cried Harold, drawing his sword. “TI tell you the honest truth,” returned the man, ‘‘ This letter which you brought to me says—‘The bearer of this has done me grievous wrong. He must not leave Varney House alive —do mith him as you will,’” “ Trapped and deceived,” cried Harold ; “ne- vertheleas, I will defend myself to the last. I may yet, sir, sell my life too dearly for you.” With these words he made a rush forward. ee in vain. h 18 enemy, a giant in height and strength like the armourer,drew forth an immense wwerd’ with which he parried all his thrusta; while at a subdued whistle, the door opened simul- taneously, and six men entered. “Seize this young man, and carry him to the Black Chamber,” said the giant ; “heed not his cries. There is no one in the house, ewcept those who know the secret.” It was useless to resist, yet; Harold did resist fiercely. Planting his back against the wall, he fought with desperate valour, Against seven, however, he was of little ser- THR WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. vice; and at length, wounded and faint frotii his continued exertion, he was bound and taken captive. ‘To the Black Chamber with him,” again eried the giant, “we will take a little of the mettle out of him ere long.” The men at once seized him in their arms, and hurrying along a corridor, and deacending some twenty steps thrust him into a vault, where they left him in utter darknem. Agonised his feelings were, under the cir- cumstances, ag Ae knew them. How much more #0 would they have been had he known of the desperate Uangét of Ettie, his betrothed wife ! CHAPTER XXIX, THE DISGUISED STRANGER—THE CRY ON THE RIVER ONCE MORE—BADSTOCK'’s TERROR— THE EXPEDITION—THE BOAT—THE STRATA- GEM— THE BLOW—THE PISTOL sHOT !— MURDER !—THE LAUGH OF THE LOST ONE ! —THE DISCOVERY !—AN OLD FOE WITH A REW FACE, ON quitting the house of Lord Harcourt after the murder, Radstock at ctos retarnéd to his abode in Alsatia. He was pursued once mote by the spirit of the murdered. He had screwed up his courage to the sticking point, when he had remembered the fearful injuries which in past times he bad received at the hands of Lord Harcourt, but now it was all over ; now he was alone without the excite- ment of crime, only its grim and ghastly memory, he felt completely crashed and overwhelmed. Hurrying up into his room, in the little inn by the river, where, in Whitefriars, he had for the present established, as it were, his home,. he called for a tankard of ale, and sat for some time deliberating on what he had done. Suddenly, through the open casement, came a long and piercing shriek. He sprang to his feet. - “Oh! heavens,” he cried, “What is that? Is this the last time P Is this my warning?” As he spoke, the cry again rang over the dark water, but this time it ended in a how! of dismal laughter | “Ah!” he cried, covering his face with his hands. “Ah! thisis my warning, Oh! great heaven, protect me !" As he spoke the door ed, and a tall figure in a cloak and a plumed entered. His face was of 2 sallow brown, and his hair parently short, though bushy. — nee Whom want yon?” asked Radatock. * One Radstock !” “T am he,” “Good. I am come to ask you to accompany me at once to Chiswick. iI have a boat y.’ The cool insolence with which the stranger uttered these words, roused some of Radstock’s en once more, “ And pray who are you who thus abruptly and without notice or recommendation, expects me to follow yon out oh the river f” ‘“T am called Richard Boyne,” said the stranger ; “‘ and, if you do not comprehend my KS) \ i (.. COMME DOO CO