The City of the Just [A novel.] ... Illustrated, etc. (Stereotyped edition.)

Front matter

v. THE CITY OF THE JUST STEREOTYPED EDITION. THE CITY OF THE JUST BY THOMAS TERRELL ( Joint Author of "Lady Delmar"). ILLUSTRATED BY EVERARD HOPKINS. fioit&mv: TKISCHLER AND COMPANY, 18, New Bridge Street, E.C. 1892. PREEACE. TJubikg the vacations of the year 1890 I found much enjoyment and relaxa tion in collaborating with my friend Tiny White, in the production of "Lady Delmar." The novel was essentially political, and it met with a reception which I am convinced its intrinsic merits did not altogether warrant. It had been written in an enthusiastic mood, and those persons who believe in enthusiasm were far too unmeasured in their approval, whilst others who cast a colder judgment denounced the melodrama and the want of literary finish. The favourable reception which was accorded to "Lady Delmar" has encouraged me to try again, and during the late long vacation I have written the following pages.

This time I have been compelled to work alone. My friend was busy taking unto herself another name, and her mind was not inclined to story writing ; besides, I wanted again to write a novel with a purpose, and she, being truly artistic, disapproved of novels with a purpose. The object which I had in view was to bring to the surface the operations o£ certain gangs of scoundrels who still live and flourish in the "City of the Just." The outside world forms no conception of the extent to which the different industries I have written of prevail, of the thousands upon thousands whom they ruin and destroy, or of the tolerance with which they are regarded in circles and bv nelsons who sho lid be influenced by a more up light sense of honour. I trust that I have in some measure succeeded in my intention.

This, I will say, that the incidents which I have depicted as occurring in the " City of the Just " are every one of them true incidents. The Silver Streak Gold Mining Company has been formed, has been floated, pooled, wound up, and

Preface

. VI the directors have been prosecuted, and the prosecution has been squared. I have changed the names, and the parties, and the venue, that is nil ; because I do not attack atoms, but the whole mass which allows itself to he polluted by the presence of those atoms. The "bucket-shop" of Mr. Effingham Winstaple exists twenty times over, and its latest development by Mr. Peter Jones I have extracted (with my client's consent) from a bundle of papers which is on my table at the present moment. The main incidents of the tale occur in the Black Mountains of Carmarthen, amongst a people who were my friends during that which I may term the romantic period of my life — a tender-hearted generous people, full of poetry and of love, and the recollection of whoso kindness and affection as I have lived with them again in imagination day by day, has amply rewarded mo for my labour, whatever else may be the fate of this story.

"Lady Delmar " was undoubtedly a novel with a purpose — a democratic purpose, and therefore displeasing to the aristocratic mind. The critics who did the authors the honour to review it, divided themselves into two camps — the ones lauded and the others denounced. Those who lauded did so roundly, because they wished the purpose to succeed, and those who denounced did so energetically, because they wished it to fail. The aim was political, and nothing else was to be expected, for on matters political it is absurd to suppose that men will he calm or fair. " The City of the Just " is also a novel with a purpose, but it is a purpose which commends itself to the majority of mankind — the exposure and de nunciation of fraud. And so now whilst I cannot expect a renewal of the extravagant plaudits of my political friends, I shall probably be consoled in that I shall not suffer so much severe castigation at the hands of those who consider my opinions the most damnable of heresy.

Thomas Terrell. New Court, Temple. Ut January, 1393. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGB I. Effingham Winstaple 9 II. An Ecclesiastic 20 III. The City of the Just 30 IV. The Caves of the Llwchwr 41 V. Money 54 VI. Bought and Sold 67 VII. Directors and Promoters 78 VIII. A Proposal 88 IX. Ben o'r Cae 98 X. Financiers and Leeches 108 XI. The Barbed Hook 119 XII. Sunshine and Storm 131 XIII. An Accusation 143 XIV. City Justice 155 XV. A Peremptory Demand 166 XVI. Pressure and Resistance 177 XVII. A Tragedy 186 XVIII. Murder! 197 XIX. A Grave Suspicion 207 XX. The Arm of Justice 217 XXI. Justices of the Peace 222 XXII. Sharp Men and Fools 229 XXIII. "Not Guilty" 240 XXIV. A " Dda-i-ddim " 250 XXV. A Mystery Solved 260 XXVI. Order Fourteen, Rule One 267 XXVII. Suspicion 278 XXVIII. Compromise 284 XXIX. The End What was that white silent figure ? Frontispiece. Page 299.

Chapter I. Effingham Winstaple

On the very summit of one of the highest of the Black Mountains of Carmarthenshire, two girls were enjoying a picnic on their own account. It was a brilliant, warm day in August, but up there the mountain breeze made it cool and even at moments chilly. They had finished their meal and were resting behind one of those strange hillocks which are of such interest to archæologists — the sepulchres of departed great ones, of prehistoric times, who had been laid to rest on the mountain top, as near to Heaven as ever they could be placed. The girls were looking upon the scene before them. Eange upon range of mountains, like the waves of the ocean, came pressing on one behind the other, and far away in the distance some thirty miles off a thin blue line which could scarce be distinguished from the sky pro claimed the presence ofthe great Atlantic.

In the valley below to the west the river Cennen wended its turbulent course full of rapids, of cataracts, and of whirlpools, but from the distant height seeming tranquil enough, just as our lives and the great events in them appear placid and calm when viewed from the far off standpoint of time or distance. A little to the right stood the frowning remnants of Carreg Cennen Castle, perched in the middle of the valley, on the very top of a gigantic, precipitous rock some two hundred feet high, erect, like a monster sentinel guarding the approaches in every direction — a remarkable sight, one which words fail to picture, but which sets you thinking B ofthe times when it must have been the stronghold of one of those princes who for so many centuries, in their heroic defence of their independence and of their homes, successfully defied the power of the Saxon and of the Norman invaders.

The last piece of newspaper had fluttered away on the wind and was settling like a big white bird in the valley below ; the girls had been half dozing ; the stillness of the air, only broken by the gentle murmur of the breeze amongst the stones, had set them dreaming, and each in her way no doubt had been giving way to flights of imagination as to what might be in the future or what might have been in the past. " I wish I were a man." "A man? Why, Bob, what an odd wish ; how you did startle me ! Whatever would you do if you were a man? " " Oh, I should be strong and big, and I should go out into the world and fight my way. Do you know, Winnie, men have much the best of it ; there is so much they can do, whilst we poor women are tied down in every direction." " I shouldn't like to be a man, and to have to be always ■thinking and working, and to be responsible for every thing.

I should be no good at all if I were a man." " That's because you've not been properly brought up. We girls are always taught that we must be dependent, and so of course we get to believe it after a while, but men are told that they must command and earn money, take responsibility upon themselves, and so they do it. We could do just the same if we were educated to it." Winifred shook her head. She did not fall in with her sister's ideas ; there was a feeling within her that con vinced her that no amount of education would have made her fit to stand in the front rank in the battle of life. They were not alike these two sisters ; there was a certain similarity of type which told you that they were of one family, but there it ended. Barbara, the elder, " Poor Miss Bob " as she was some times called, was of medium height, fair, with large steel grey eyes that looked all manner of things, a broad, square, I wish I were a man Page 9. low forehead full of intelligence, a small delicate mouth lined with pearls.

A beauty ? Yes, decidedly a beauty, only that she was lame and a little crooked ; not so much so as to be a dwarf and ugly, yet enough to make you sigh when you saw her, and think " What a pity ! How sad ! " However, when Bob spoke to you, when her eyes flashed with the energy that was within her, and a thousand expressions passed over her countenance in almost as many moments, you would forget her deformity, and you would only see the wild, passionate, devoted spirit that dwelt within — you would realise the greatness of the soul and forget the feebleness of the body. Bob was twenty-five years of age. Winifred, some seven years younger, was also fair; her eyes were more blue perhaps ; in stature she was what Bob might have been. But there all likeness ended. Winifred was essentially feminine in her nature.

Bob was otherwise. Winifred's mind was of that quality which ever loses itself in details. In time she would make a splendid housekeeper, no doubt ; she would be a loving, devoted wife ; she would be careful, tidy, precise, not in her external arrangements only, but in her habits of thought, in her ideas. Bob, on the other hand, took in a wider range ; she was imaginative, poetic, contradictory, dreaming of im possible things in every direction, and giving way to pas sion and despair when she found them impossible. Easily moved to love or to hate, her likes and her dislikes went to the very root of her existence ; they were not transient emotions brought on by a momentary kindness or injury, but were instinctive, and consequently violent and often times unreasonable. Her self-denial for those she loved knew no bounds ; self-sacrifice was a gratifica tion, and she gave way to it without reserve.

Notwith standing her deformity, she was robust, and retained a remarkable personal courage. There was a legend of her early life which was re membered in the family, and which fairly illustrated the heroic side of her character. Bob's mother had died shortly after the birth of | Winifred. Bob recollected how that in a darkened b2 room, hushed in the silence of approaching death, the dying parent had charged her with the care of the little baby sister who had just come into the world, and this charge and the promise which she then gave had made a deep impression upon her. Shortly afterwards the baby had been left one hot summer day by the nurse on the grass in the meadow, and Bob was making nosegays from the buttercups and daisies around. The nurse, who had gone to the gate to gossip with the gardener, was startled by the cries of Bob for assistance.

When she hurried up she was horrified to find the child grasping a large snake in both her hands, while the reptile was twining itself about her hands and arms. Bob was evidently desperately alarmed, but she clung to her grip of the snake notwith standing her fears. The nurse, afraid to come near, screamed for help, and cried to Bob to drop the animal. Bob could only gasp, "Baby, baby!" Fortunately the gardener came upon the scene almost immediately, and seizing the snake out of the child's hands, flung it to a distance. As the years passed, and as she grew from infancy to childhood, and from childhood to womanhood, Winifred became more and more the central figure in Bob's heart. The elder girl's deformity had preyed upon her probably to an unreasonable extent ; she had made up her mind very early that for her there was no hope of ever being a sweetheart, a wife, or a mother, and the great volume of her love had been poured out for the one bein" who leaned upon her for support, and with whom she was in close communion and sympathy.

"It's rather nice to be dependent, Bob," remarked Winifred, after a rest, during which she had been thinking the matter over. " It suits some natures, I suppose," was the somewhat contemptuous answer. Then there was another pause. "I do wish I were a man. I should like to have lived in the old days when those ruins were in their prime. Can't you fancy it all, Winnie, with the trumpets blowing, and the ancient cries of Wales ? How bravely the old heroes must have gone forth to defend these hills and valleys, and how they must have come home from the wars ! I fancy I can see them now, trooping up the road down there. I should like to have been a hero ! " " I'd rather be a living girl, if it is only a girl, than be a dead hero." "You'll have to be dead some day, and then you may as well have been a hero as not."

" I shouldn't mind being a hero's wife. Tell me, Bob, did they bury their wives on the tops of the mountains, too ? " " Certainly not. The ancients didn't think so much of women, I can tell you ; they just put them in the ground anywhere." " I should like to have been buried with my hero ! " Bob made no answer. " Should you like to be in love, Bob ? " continued Wini fred. " Dreadfully in love, I mean ; with one of those old heroes who went out to the wars, and then came home full of glory ? " Bob looked straight out in front of her. A little look of pain was on her lips and in her eyes. The younger girl did not observe it ; she went on — " Say, should you like to have seen him come home to you, and to have met him at the castle gate, like that picture Uncle Ben has ? Isn't he a grand looking man, with his armour all bright, and the long, flowing feathers in his helmet ?

And he has just jumped off his horse, and wrapped her to his arms, and they look so happy " She suddenly ceased. "Why, Bob, what's the matter?" A tear was in Bob's eye, and she clasped her hands jvather tightly together. "Nothing, it's all nonsense. I mustn't think about such things," and she tried a little forced smile. "I'm so sorry, Bob — dear Bob. I did not mean to hurt you," and Winifred put her arms round her sister's neck, and she understood all at once the reason why Bob wished she were a man. By degrees their thoughts flew into other channels ; they discussed the parish and the parishioners, and the sick, and the poor and the rich, and the Congregationalist minister, and the other dissenters, who, being in Wales, were the natural enemies of the rector, their father. There was a good deal of small scandal in it, all of a non-malicious sort.

Then the rector came in for a bit of criticism, and although they loved and venerated him above all other men, they could not help agreeing that it was a pity he should have gone in for Bitualism, and so have launched himself in all the worry of prolonged Ecclesiastical litigation in the evening of his life. Having regard to the fact that the congregation of Pen-cwm-garw Church scarce exceeded a dozen, it did not seem exactly the place in which the great principles of lawful or unlawful procedure should be settled. Besides, the rector had nothing but the living to look to, and as that, although it was nearly one of the best in Wales, brought in a mere five hundred a year or so, it was clear that his circumstances must become terribly straitened by the demands which were made upon him from time to time by his lawyers.

Presently the sick Mrs. Evans was talked about, and that brought them to the English doctor, who, as his name was Eccles and he could boast of no near relations of the tribe of Jones or Williams or Lewis, was considered an interloper in clannish Wales. But somehow or other Stephen Eccles had succeeded in making some excellent cures, as John Jones's wife, who had been given up by Dr. Morgan, and even by the celebrated Dr. Evan Williams of Swansea, could testify, and many others, and notwithstanding that the said Dr. Morgan had at first declared him an English quack who had been unable to find employment in England, and the Bev. Elias Jones of the Baptist Chapel at Pen-cwm garw had at one time cast doubts upon him by saying, " Indeed to goodness I do not know the ways of Satan^ but perhaps he was send the English doctor here, perhaps he was too sure."

But now and then it had happened that some member of the reverend gentleman's flock was placed between the fear of the Devil and the fear of death, and then the Devil was nowhere, for the fear of death was a reasonably certain sort of fear compared to the other, and it invariably prevailed. The rector had immediately accorded to Dr. Eccles his patronage, perhaps on this principle : Eccles was an Englishman, most Englishmen were Churchmen, most Welshmen were dissenters, therefore the odds were that an English doctor was a better doctor than a Welsh one. The rector did not stand alone in this mode of reasoning ; many other people chose their doctors or lawyers oi butchers or grocers upon somewhat similar principles. The rector's predilections had naturally descended to his daughters, so Dr. Eccles was a persona grata and was discussed in that light, and as he was a young man, admittedly good looking, and with many very excellent qualities, he and his doings occupied a good deal of time.

" Bob, look, who is that coming up the gully? " " It's only some man." Then Bob went on describing the wonderful operation whereby Dr. Eccles restored the sight in Evan Davies's right eye. " I wish you wouldn't always talk of such dreadfully nasty things." "Nasty ! Why, Winnie, I call them wonderful." " But I should like to know who that man is ; he is coming straight towards us ; he cannot have seen us." " Surely people have arightto walk about the mountains. If we sit quiet he will go past." The stranger, whoever he might be, although he was attired in tourist costume, had to stop frequently for breath. Tourists, particularly London ones, always seem to imagine that there is an obligation upon them to label themselves " Cockney out for a holiday," and they do it most effectually. This particular tourist was unmistakable in his origin.

I was about to describe him, but, so far as his attire is concerned at any rate, it is unnecessary, since all the species are upon one pattern, and that is so well known. In person he was a tall man of some thirty-two years of age, broad shouldered, stout limbed, wearing a black heavy moustache, but otherwise clean shaved. He had reached the summit of the mountain ; the tomb ofthe dead hero concealed the girls. He paused to survey the scene which was remarkable and startling enough from where he stood. The range of mountains divided two valleys, the one from which he had come, and which I have described, surrendered to agriculture and antiquity, the other the land of coal and iron, of tall chimneys belching forth their volumes of smoke, of factories with their furnaces and steam hammers and their crowds of sturdy independent workers labouring day and night in the service of the world.

The stranger was fascinated. Himself brought up amidst scenes of activity, he had arrived suddenly upon industry in a new form, and looking down upon it from a height he realised it in a way he had not done before. He pondered upon the wealth that lay before him, upon the capital it all meant, the production, the trade, the field for finance, for scheming, for roguery, for money-making, and he thought that he should like to become better acquainted with this valley and with the people who lived in it. He turned his head and perceived the girls, who, the while he was standing, had been hushed in silence, thinking maybe thac he would pass on without observing them. It was an awkward moment for all three : people are so much in the habit of being regularly introduced that when circumstances arise which prohibit that formality they feel at a loss how to conduct themselves.

The stranger cast an eye around to see whether the girls were accompanied ; they were evidently alone. He advanced a step, and raising his hat, addressed himself to Bob. "Forgive my intruding upon you, but can you inform me how far I am from the nearest town or village ? " " Pen-cwm-garw is two miles from here ; if you keep on the crest of the mountain to where the next mound is over there— you will come upon a path which leads straight down to the village." " Shall I find an hotel there ? " " Not exactly an hotel, but an inn— the Dynevor Arms." The stranger glanced from one to the other. " May I presume so far as to request permission to rest here a moment before I proceed on my journey ? " There was a certain courtesy in his manner which for bade a refusal ; Bob inclined in acquiescence.

" You have here," continued the stranger as soon as he had found a convenient seat, " one of the most startling surprises I have ever seen. You climb from that valley where all seems old and asleep and full of owls and ghosts of the past, and at once you see before you that," and he waved his hand to indicate the district of modern industry. " We prefer this side of the mountain ; we try. to forget that there is any other ; it is so disheartening to think of a pretty country, which, no doubt, was just as beauti ful as this once upon a time, ruined and destroyed as that has been ; we call it the black country." " Ladies have seldom an eye to business ; there is nothing grander to contemplate than the industry of man." "Except the work of God," answered Bob. "We often say," remarked Winifred, "how thankful we are there is no ccal here."

" Are you sure of that ? " asked the stranger. " This is limestone ; down there is the Farewell Bock; everyone says there is no coal under limestone." This was the limit of Winifred's geological knowledge. "But," said the stranger, "there might be iron or copper, or tin, or even gold." " We hope not, don't we, Bob? " " Indeed we do." " Just think how much richer all the people would be if you had even the much despised coal under it all." "They would be no happier. Why, all the paupers, the tramps I mean, and the poachers — everything that's bad and wicked comes from the works." " But if there are poor people there are also rich ones ; there's money on that side — money, plenty of it, and it comes from the coal. Surely it is better to be rich than to be poor?" " I don't know, I think I would rather be poor on this side than rich in such smoke and dirt."

The tourist did not answer ; it seemed very strange to him that anyone should prefer anything to money, and he shook his head in sorrow that he should have found some body who thought otherwise. And while he pondered thus, he glanced from one girl to the other. As she sat the lameness of Bob was not apparent, and he could not help being struck with the two beauties he had lighted upon in so romantic a spot. " That is a very old castle," he remarked, more to begin something fresh than for any other purpose. " No one knows when it was built ; there are many curious things about it ; if you are a visitor to these parts you should not pass without exploring it." " I am afraid it is very difficult to get at," he remarked, doubting whether it would be worth the trouble. " On the other side it is accessible enough.

Father, that is Mr. Stepney, is of opinion that it has been rebuilt at least three times, and that the last time cannot have been later than the time of Henry the First." ' ' Have I the honour of speaking to the Misses Stepney ? ' ' asked the stranger, evidently surprised.. "My name is Winstaple, Mr. Effingham Winstaple of London. I have had the pleasure of some correspondence with the rector. I am not mistaken — he is the rector, I assume? " " Yes," answered Bob, " the rector of Pen-cwm-garw." " Ah, how fortunate I am ! It had been my intention to call upon Mr. Stepney before leaving the neighbourhood. A very shrewd man, your father, Miss Stepney, a very shrewd man indeed ; had he been in the City and been a man of business he would have been one of our most shining lights — one of our richest men, I mean."

"Are you a lawyer, Mr. — Winstaple?" asked Bob, recollecting the business upon which the rector had been of late so much engaged. "A lawyer! Oh dear no, I am a — broker — a man of business, a City man." He hesitated for a correct description of himself. "But why do you ask if I am a lawyer? " "I thought perhaps " She stopped; she did not wish to commit an indiscretion. "Winnie, we must be getting home ; we shall only just get in in time for tea ; see, the sun is already over the white mound." She pointed in the direction, and surely enough the rays were gleaming on one of the curious sepulchres which, unlike the others, was constructed of stones and rocks of a brilliant whiteness. Mr. Winstaple passed it by as an ordinary matter ; he did not think much of anything which could not yield money.

" Will you allow me? " he said, offering a hand to Bob, as he saw she had some difficulty in rising. " Thank you," she declined, " with my sister's help and my stick I get on very well ; you see, I am a little lame." Bob had taken a dislike to the man. Winifred, who had not come to an age when women judge men by their nature and qualities, thought him rather handsome. Mr. Winstaple walked by the side of Winifred, they chatted as they went along, the girls pointed out the various objects of interest which they passed and of which they were proud — whilst Mr. Winstaple told them of London and of its wonders, and to some extent annoyed them by asking a series of questions which seemed to indicate that he wished to discover some new and as yet untouched fields of coal and iron to exploit and to destroy.

At last they arrived at the rectory gate. Mr. Winstaple hesitated ; Bob asked if he would come in now and see Mr. Stepney. He reflected a moment ; no, he would learn more of the rector first. " Thanks very much, but it is getting late this evening. May I trouble you to present my card to your father, and to tell him I will do myself the pleasure of calling upon him to-morrow ? " He handed his card, and bowing deferentially stepped out in the direction of the village. " Effingham Winstaple ! " cried the rector with as tonishment. " Whatever has brought him here ? Why, he is the very man I wanted most to see."

Chapter II. An Ecclesiastic

The rector of Pen-cwm-garw was not endowed with that clerical modesty which, as it is well known, distinguishes the typical clergyman of the Church of England. He was fully aware of his important position, and he entertained no mean opinion of his own intellectual qualifications. He comported himself as if he were continually trying to live up to some exalted ideal of the part he played. When a young man Hugh Stepney had married his bishop's daughter, and having by this means proved his learning and piety, his episcopal father-in-law selected him as being in his judgment the most fitting captain to lead tbe army of the Church in that struggle against heresy and schism which was continually being fought in the parish of Pen-cwm-garw. There were twenty-three Church people in the parish when Mr. Stepney first preached in the pulpit of Pen-cwm garw, not including the rector's own family.