Tracked. A story

Front matter

TRACKED AT ALL LIBRARIES. Novels by the same Author. MY BEST PUPIL, i Vol. THE STORY OF MEG, 2 Vols. LEAP YEAR, 2 Vols. ATHLOS : THE STORY OF A LLFE, 2 Vols. REMINGTON & Co Henrietta Street Covent Garden TRACKED a £torB IN TWO VOLUMES BY M A CTJRTOJ.S Author of " TAe Siory of Meg " #c " The bridegroom sat at the table head, And the lights burnt bright and clear — ' Oh, who is that,' the bridegroom said, ' Whose weary feet 1 hear ? ' " 'Twas one look'd from the lighted hall, And answered soft and slow — ' It is a wolf runs up and down, With a black track in the snow.' VOL II 3E,'unl&mi REMINGTON AND CO PUBLISHERS HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN 1888 [Alt Right!, Reserved] CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. Ben and his Friends ... ... ... I II. A Party in Low Life ... ... ... 9 III. A Tea in Higher Life ... ... ... 23 IV.

Mr. Audley gives a Dinner Party ... 31 V. The End of the Dinner Party ... ... 53 VI. The Wolf Escapes once more ... ... 64 VII. A Sudden Temptation ... ... ... 75 VIII. An Evening at the Farm ... ... 92 IX. The Moonlight on the Road to London 106 X. The Backward Journey ... ... 126 XL The Return of the Wanderer ... ... 130 XII. Will in Refuge with Elizabeth ... ... 143 XIII. The Summer passes ... ... ... 153 XIV. The Old Wolf leaves the Den 162 XV. Morning and Night ... ... ... 170 XVI. Ben has Misgivings ... ... ... 178 XVII. The Night in the Old Inn 191 XVIII. Alecto 197 XIX. Flying Rumours ... ... ... 205 XX. Mr. Audley comes again ... ... 209 XXI. Geoff has a Dream 218 XXII. The Farm hears Strange Tidings ... 227 XXIII. Farmer Gibson meets the Wolf ... 235 XXIV. Mr. Audley meets his Son 253 XXV. The Clergyman at Bennon ... ... 264 XXVI. The Last Evening 281 XXVII. The Fire at Crasten 288 XXVIII. The Wolf is Trapped at Last

Chapter I. Ben And His Friends

The stifling summer nights passed on and onwards, and the dreary prison of Ben's apartment became still more hard to bear. The long nights were so endless in their heat and wretchedness, with their sounds of Ben's snoring, and of the church clocks near and far, that even the blindless daytimes, with all their dust and glare, seemed but to prepare the way for them and to be of no account themselves. And yet Geoff, though knowing himself a prisoner, made no effort to escape ; he kept himself quiet, and allowed himself to revive slowly from his illness, and waited still. This delay was the result of weakness, but of resolve as well ; he hoped to learn more of Ben's meaning, and of his friends in time. VOL. II. B TRACKED. With one of the inmates of the house he had become acquainted, as we have seen, but from that acquaintance he did not hope to gain much at first.

That was the boy we have mentioned as living down below, the queer, crooked, comical creature with a monkey look, the boy who was always climbing about the roof and steps. After he had, by looking in one day, discovered Geoff, he became interested in him, and was always to be seen ; sometimes hanging head down wards from the roof that he might look in on him upside down, sometimes swinging in the air holding with one hand to the steps, some times poking his head in at the window with his tongue thrust in his cheek. But he never performed these gambols when the black bearded man or Ben was near ; some previous experiences had taught him to restrain his spirits then. Crawfish was the name of this youngster, or was said to be his name; for his "chrisen" name, if he had one, remained unknown. He gave Geoff this information, along with a great deal else, for he had a tongue which, like his limbs, was never still.

He talked of his exploits, of which he was very proud, of small thefts and rogueries, and practical jokes, BEN AND HLS FRLENDS. 3 always of the roughest sort — of " larking with girls," and of getting "screwed in pubs." There was a curious innocence in him, in spite of his bringing-up ; the freedom with -which he related his small adventures gave proof of that. To Geoff, lying and listening upon his heap of rags, too sore in body and mind to answer much, it seemed strange to hear the tone of patronising wickedness assumed by this younger boy. And yet, after all, it was a relief to have Crawfish so near — for any companionship wasa relief just then. It was not only that the boy, after his fashion, was good to him, bringing him food and drink, and strawberries now and then — not only that he came and sat by him, and talked volubly to him — the very sight of a human being was a relief sometimes.

In the long, endless nights, whilst he lay awake and ill, kept wakeful by the moonlight, which threw the shadow of the ladder on the floor, it was a relief to watch Crawfish pass the window, climbing up the steps. For it was one of the elfish habits of the boy that he liked to do this at night ; to clamber alone up the ladder on moonlight nights, and then spend hours in crawling about the roofs, much like the conventional goblin that one TRACKED. sees in plates. When he got tired of play he would steal quietly down again, and Geoff would lie watching his figure as he passed the glass. It was from this boy, who came often to sit by him on the floor, that Geoff learnt much information about the people in the house, as he grew by degrees stronger and more fit to talk himself. He was particularly anxious to know who were the friends of Ben, regarding them as people it would be best for him to avoid ; and was glad to learn there were but two in the place, the man whom the boy called "father," and the mistress of the house.

The boy was afraid of " father," who seemed to treat him ill ; he was very much stunted from being under-fed, poor lad. But he did not appear to know much himself of the guardian whom he feared ; or, perhaps, he knew more, but was afraid to say. The landlady was " allers drinkin'," but " not a bad sort, not she ; " and she had " rings an' brooches as you never saw the like." It soon became evident to Geoff's attentive ears that there was some secret understanding between this woman, and man, and Ben. And he felt still more sure of this when one day feet came up the ladder, and " father " BEN AND HIS FRIENDS. 5 himself opened the window, and came into the room ; and sat down, moreover, on the floor, and prepared himself to talk. The man had a black beard, and dark, sinister face, as we have seen ; he had also a rough manner, which he tried that day to conceal.

It was the first time Geoff had seen him since he came into the house. What his object was in this visit the sick boy tried in vain to discover, for he did not disclose it himself ; on the contrary, he asked a great many questions, to which the invalid made short replies. And after that day he often came again, and seemed to take a peculiar interest in Geoff, even telling him one day he " could make his fortune if he liked." But it was to be observed that he did not appear when Ben was there. And then one morning the woman also came — a swarthy woman with a red face, and a gold chain round her neck ; and she also talked to him, and observed him curiously ; sitting down, for want of a chair, upon the floor. Only, like a woman, she observed his state as well ; and pitied him for his sickness, and for the rags on which he lay, and made many promises of comforts, which she did not afterwards provide.

And then, before she TRACKED. went, she whispered to him to be sure and not tell Ben — the man, with more insight, had trusted him for that. Geoff lay and con sidered a good deal when she had gone. On the whole, it seemed to him probable that these people whose acquaintance he had so lately made had before known something of him or of his birth, though he could not tell whether they had gained their information from Ben or had given it to him. And yet, from their dubious behaviour, it seemed only too probable also that they did not know much, and were even uncertain whether there was much to be known. With these vague ideas floating always in his mind as he lay and thought, he repeated again to himself the story that Jem had told him j and then he re membered to have heard from Crawfish that the woman had been a landlady of an inn far away — why not of that very inn of which Jem had spoken once?

In that case it was easy to be surmised how much she knew. But did Ben know more than that ? Did Ben know more ? Lying, and thinking, and tossing through the endless nights, it seemed to Geoff just possible that he did, that the vague promises he had held out might have some root in BEN AND HIS FRIENDS. 7 facts. If not it was scarcely to be conceived that Ben should be so much interested in him, in the boy whom he hated and who had injured him ; there must be some strange hope connected with him somewhere in his mind. And yet poor Geoff felt, and could not but feel more and more, that Ben's utmost desire for vengeance might not have hurt so much. Oh ! confused, burning hope, now come still more close to him : oh ! vague, terrible, disappointing hope, how it tortured through the long days and through the stifling nights!

If it had not been for that he might have been able to decide on something, some plan of action that should take him far away. But now he could not — could not ; he must cling to this merest shred of a possibility of learning at length who his unknown father was — the gentleman who had been so willing to sell his son to ruin. Over and over again he heard the words, a mocking whisper for the night-time to repeat — " You would have your son an heir : I'll make him fit for that." And meanwhile — with this possible heritage still before his eyes, there was the stifling room round him, with Ben's drunken fits at night, and the secret visits of the black- TRACKED. bearded man, and the gambols of Crawfish, and the weird, moonlit nights, and his own strange weakness as he lay upon the floor. And mingled with these things, like a per vading thought, was the strange terror of mind he had never known before.

The something that lay before him was long in coming — oh ! would he be able to get to it at last ? " Why do ye think on Ben ? " asked Rolf, the black-bearded man. "He won't help ye, ye may be sure o' that. / know some tricks for ye that'll be more worth yer while. Ye are pinched and peakened now, but ye were once a likely lad. Come ye to Lon'on, boy, and set up there wi' me."

Chapter II

A PARTY IN LOW LIFE. On the same night on which that invitation was given that we have heard, Ben Wilde was spending an evening in the midst of his friends ; in fact, they were having a party amongst themselves, a luxury in which Ben indulged himself every now and then. The party had assembled in the most old fashioned room of an old-fashioned public house, and it is therefore easily to be imagined what kind of room it was — a low room with broad window -seats and a beam across the ceiling, and an enormous grate, and great wooden chairs with arms and rounded backs, and a number of glasses on the sideboard, TRACKED. and some pictures of huntsmen and dogs upon the walls. The party was a drinking party, it must be owned, and therefore of great advantage to the public-house where it was held ; and at the same time of no great cost to the entertainer, after all, for each guest paid for all he drank himself.

This plan took something of the shine off the hospitality of the giver of the entertainment, we must confess ; but it had long been a rule of the Gin-shop, and of those within its walls, " Every man pays for his own drink himself." And this fact had occasioned the expulsion of Ben from the club held in the place, so that he had never been inside the Gin-shop since the night when he had introduced Geoff there some weeks before. He had an inno cent habit of forgetting to bring his cash, and of then imploring piteously for mercy when the end of the evening came ; and his friends had supplied him with coins for a while, but had got tired of that at last. It was the sight of these maudlin entreaties, accompanied by weak promises and stream ing tears, that had served amongst other things to disgust the lad whom the Wolf's Den had reared, and had induced him to leave his master when the next morning came.

For A FARTY IN LO W LLFE. 11 old Jem would not have been likely to entreat for money, he would more readily have taken it ; and his adopted son was more daring than himself. There had been then at the Gin-shop that evening what is called a "row;" and since that time Ben had not dared to frequent the club, and was not supposed to be admitted even into the public-house. How came it then that he was to be found there that night, in the midst of the select circle who had hired a room ? I rather imagine that Ben supposed his invitation due to his own intrinsic charms ; but it is more probable that it was owing to some curious rumours, lately set afloat, concerning " that young lad Haldan " whom he had chosen to befriend. " And keep ye still awhile, mates," had whispered the wisest of the party ; " when he's got the drink i'side him his tongue'll be loose enough."

So behold Ben, some way advanced in that road that produces looseness of tongue, in an armchair by the fire, sniffing and shivering continually even there, holding out a trembling hand for his glass to be supplied, whilst his red handkerchief, even looser than usual, seems dropping from his neck. The room TRACKED. has no candles, it is lit by a roaring fire, and would be bright if it were not dim with smoke ; the guests, who are six in number, excluding Ben, are gathered round the table, smoking, and seem soberer than he. In fact, they are very curious to hear the story of the boy, of whom Ben has dropped various words in an intoxicated state, and are prepared to sit there, pretty quiet, till they have heard. But their guest is silent ; he has not drunk enough as yet. At the head of the table sits the chairman for the occasion, a big, broad-shouldered fellow, in a loose coat, with his hat pushed back on his head, and a pipe resting carelessly in his great, shapeless lips.

He is the husband of Mrs. Rawson, who keeps a lodging-house, and is celebrated as a convivial fellow, and a good singer, in the town. There are queer stories, very queer stories, about him, which men whisper now and then ; and he has the power of always keeping sober, or seeming to do so, a somewhat ominous gift in such company as this. But he is very popular, and called a good fellow still. Next to him is a young lad, respectably dressed, and with a face that may be called respectable as well a young clerk, the son of a grocer, who A PARTY IN LOW LIFE. 13 has been a mother's darling in a strict and careful home ; and who, freed now at last from parental restraint, and left to guard himself, is learning in such scenes and company to know what " life is like." Next to him Rolf is smoking, surly and silent, with a watchful glance on Ben ; and beyond him, sitting on the table, with his legs oddly bent, the little Crawfish is one grin and tremor of delight.

The other two men are middle-aged, two small tradesmen, with unprosperous shops, who do not allow their wives much money to feed the children with. All these, with the exception of Crawfish, have their minds fixed on Ben ; he is to be the joke of the evening, and they are waiting to hear him speak. But they must give him a little time yet — a little time. " Come, sing up, boys," shouts out Raw son, who is their host. " You're dull to-night. Gi' us a little o' your lungs ; sing now ! " " We'll all sing hymns ! " said one of the unprosperous tradesmen, with a snuffle and a sneer." " No, no," whispered faintly the young clerk, becoming discomposed, amidst the laughter of the rest. He had only been used to singing hymns on Sunday nights at home. TRACKED. " I don't quite like that, I think ; we won't do that."

" We'll sing a political song," shouted Rawson, with a rap on the table to enforce his words. " There ain't not a bit o' go in hymns, they're dreadful dull. We'll have a song about drink, and about the price o' corn. And then we'll have one about the girls ; that'll fetch us all ! " " You be hanged for a fool," whispered the oldest tradesman to him, bending across the table to whisper in his ear. " We've all come to hear about this lad an' Ben, an' when once the shouting begins there'll be no chance o' that." "You leave me to manage," murmured Rawson, with a wink, and the offered objec tion was at once withdrawn. The youngest of the tradesmen had mean while jumped on the table — it was a happy thine; that he was small and slight — and from the depths of a husky throat was pouring out that sort of melody that poor people like the best, that peculiar combination of humour, sentiments, morals, and music that is called " A Comic Song."

"And now for the chorus, gentlemen, if you please." A EARTY IN LOW LLFE. 15 And with raps on the table, and stamping, .and shouting, a chorus came at once : — " Come, Polly, Let us all be jolly, I pricked you with the holly, But away with melancholy, Let's have no more of folly, But come and kiss me, Polly,- And drink, and we'll all be jolly." Chorus again, gentlemen, if you please." Chorus repeated, " Come, Polly." " Come, gentlemen, there wasn't much life in that. We'll try again." Chorus repeated the third time with terrific stamping and shouting that rang out into the lighted streets beyond. " And now," said Rawson, settling himself in his chair when the noise had ceased, " we'll have a talk." " Why, we've got little enow to say," answered Dolby, the older tradesman, to whom Rawson had " tipped," as he would have phrased it, a private wink.

" We've got our business to see to, we don't hear much at that. It's Wild Ben as has all the wit, an' all the stories too." " I say, Ben," went on Rawson, throwing his enormous figure back, and taking his pipe into his hand whilst he puffed out a cloud of TRACKED. smoke, " tell us what's gone with that lad you brought here some weeks agone. There's a many has asked after him — a likely chap ! " The rest were becoming more silent over their smoking now. It had been decided that Ben was to be the joke of the evening, and they wanted to draw him out. " He's got to your house," said Dolby, "if all I hear is true." The dark-bearded Rolf was becoming visibly annoyed ; it almost appeared as if he wished to stop the talk. From his armchair by the fire, over which he crouched and trem bled, Ben answered with fearful asseverations that the lad was far away.

" Why, I seen him only this mornin' ;" burst out Crawfish from the table ; " he came an' sat wi' father an' me downstairs." Rolf turned a dark glance upon him, but he did not heed. " He's goin' to Lon'on wi' us, he is," said Crawfish, who could be seized with audacious fits of recklessness sometimes ; " we're goin' to make our fortunes, him, an' father, an' me. There's lots o' money in Lon'on, an' fortunes to be made. He comes an' sits wi' us, an' then we talk to him." He caught his father's glance, and broke off at once. A PARTY IN LOW LLEE. 17 There had been a quiet, peculiar meaning in the look Rolf gave his son ; but there was some strange meaning too in the glance Ben turned on him. The dark-bearded man seemed unable to bear the look ; he drank off the contents of his glass and then he rose.

" Come you wi' me, Craw," he said ; "we must be off." He put out his hand, and drew his son from the table, but gently, and with out hurting him, though the boy seemed afraid. Then, without regarding the expostu lations of his companions, he threw down some money on the table, " to pay for the drink," he said ; and, still keeping his hand on the boy, he left the room. He had not looked again at Ben, nor Ben at him. Ben stretched out his hand for his glass, and slowly drank it off, but he was trembling more visibly now, with anger or with fear. " E'ed better not," he muttered low to him self ; " e'ed better not." It was not of Rolf that he was thinking then. Oh, miserable, cowering wretch, shivering, drinking, and trembling by the fire, the mere broken remnant of what had once been a life, was it possible that any definite purpose could still exist in you, that any power, even of keeping a secret, could remain ?

And yet a VOL. II. C TRACKED. purpose, a secret, had indeed laid hold of Ben ; and though he had long weakened the springs of action in himself, they did not lay hold of him with less tenacious force for that. As far as he could be determined on anything as he sat and drank, the determination to per sist in silence was in his mind. Rawson, on his own part, had his reasons for wishing to " dror him out," or else he would certainly not have wasted much trouble over him. He knew Geoff very well, for the boy had lodged in his house, the ill-favoured lodging-house of which his wife was head, and he had certain private ideas of his own about the lad. He imagined him to be con nected with gentlemen (in a left-handed way), and supposed that Ben was desirous of extort ing money from the relations of the boy.

The big Rawson was, after his manner, a luxurious, lazy being ; he left the lodging-house and its management to his wife, and was already him self very heavily in debt. Therefore, this notion of a secret out of which money could be made had to some degree tickled his imaginative mind, and he had determined to set himself to worm it out of Ben. He possessed considerable powers, and Ben seemed to have no power left ; it did not, therefore, A PARTY LN LOW LLFE. 19 appear difficult to get a secret out of him. Only one meets with more difficulties than one expects sometimes. Nine o'clock. — There had been much comic singing, varied by the " Last Rose of Summer," which the young clerk gave. There had been also a good deal of smoking and drinking, and Dolby had ventured on some jokes. And Rawson had kept by the side of Ben, and supplied his glass ; and Ben had confided to him that Geoff was a miserable orphan, whom he was going to educate and befriend.

He could not be said to have given much information yet. Ten d clock. — The young clerk was already past any understanding, and the rest of the company had determined to charge all they drank to him. Also they had considerately twisted some sheets of paper together, and provided his head with a fool's cap to keep him from catching cold. The rest were tolerably sober, and talking and laughing still. And Ben had been " drored " by Rawson to a very great extent ; and had informed him that Geoff was the son of a duke, and had been given to him to rear, in the belief, apparently, that in such hands as his the heir to a duke dom must indeed be safe. TRACKED. 20 Eleven o'clock. — The Gin-shop was about to close for the night, and the guests in the private room prepared to go. But Ben was already more than "half-seas-over," and could not be brought to understand that his absence w7as required.

He clung to Rawson's arm, calling him with streaming tears his dearest friend — he kept rambling through the story of the child's birth at the inn, with such variations on the original narrative as his state induced. Rawson charged himself with the care of him, and the others with the clerk. The lights were extinguished, the outer door was opened, and the whole party turned out into the night. Half-fast eleven. — In the moonlit street, where shadows looked strange and weird, Rawson wandered along, supporting Ben on his arm. He was very kind to Ben, and pro mised to do all he could for him, and entreated him to be candid, and confide everything to him. And Ben had been telling a long, confused tale about the dying servant of a gentleman, whom he had nursed, and the gentleman's name was — was — was — Over and over again he repeated this ; fifty times over, with confused and broken accents, did he say that the gentleman's name was — A PARTY LN LOW LLFE. 21 was — and could say no more.

And at last Rawson let go of his arm, and he fell down on the ground. The dim light of the dawn was breaking on the town when Ben roused himself, and raised himself at last. He was still confused, and could scarcely see the dimness ; the sense of darkness and of lighted streets was in his head, and he could not free himself from that, or remember entirely what had been. And yet withal he felt rage and terror, too, a dread of having at last disclosed his secret, a frenzy against Geoff, who had plans unknown to him. He would go home and confront him at once ; he would force him to confess. Under lights beginning to grow pale beneath the morning sky he made his way with this purpose in his mind, tottering, trembling, half-blinded, putting out shaking hands, scarcely able with all his efforts to guide him self.

And beneath that morning sky and those waning lights there were a few others also in the silent streets — men and women who crept along with stealthy footsteps, skulking homewards in silence now that the night was done. TRACKED. Ah, wolves, poor wolves, so useless, so dangerous, so fond of the night-time, with such dark lairs, such unworthy, savage lives, is there no kind Shepherd, then, to take you in His arms and make a fold for you upon His bosom ?

Chapter III

A TEA IN HIGHER LIFE. On that same evening, whilst Ben Wilde and his secrets made an attraction at the Gin shop, and Geoff lay on the floor of the attic, revolving inward plans, the lamp of the dressmaker of Crasten was burning brightly on her table, and Elizabeth was pouring out tea for Liz and Jim. And certainly it was a pleasant sight, that tea-table, and with more of nature and art about it than one would have been prepared to see ; for there were Gloire de Dijon roses in a blue jar beneath the lamp, and the little tea pot was a genuine Wedgewood, square and brown. Elizabeth had remembered to set out her best things for her guests ; and had not TRACKED. 24 forgotten also to prepare a pile of buttered toast, to get a little loaf that was new and dainty, and some thick yellow cream that added a flavour to the tea.