Slippery Ground

Chapter I

During several precious hours Mr. Trestleton raged about the metropolis in search of his Thomas, whom he failed to find, and his mobile facial muscles became in conse quence twisted into all kinds of ugly shapes. It was hard upon the general merchant that, after fighting so gallantly and well, he should be doomed to defeat. Batsby was right in his conjectures concerning him. Seated on that worthy's throne in the outer office, he abandoned himself for a few moments to feelings of pride and joy. He had escaped from imminent danger, had locked elegant handcuffs on the wrists of Tovil, Crick, & Co. He would, after this temporary check, launch forth into still grander imaginings, which, by clandestine help from the great firm, should become golden realities. War, indeed ! That which poisons one man may save another's life.

Properly managed, why should not the strange condition of the money-market be made to serve his turn ? He looked up and laughed, but the laugh faded rapidly away, for he beheld Batsby the decorous, Batsby of the City (another man from Batsby in the open vol. in. B country) rushing across Tovil's Yard, a prey to sudden and violent emotion. He knew that the head-clerk had recently been much occupied in endeavouring to delve into affairs at Writer's Row. His guardian angel told him that the end of the clue had been discovered, that this time all was lost. He skipped, therefore, nimbly from his high seat, ensconced himself behind the door, which, upon being opened, screened him from Mr. Batsby' s view, followed that perturbed gentleman, over heard a word or two of the interview, and straightway vanished.

Half -past three o'clock. Still time. A hansom carried him in four minutes to the portals of another great firm down a neighbouring alley. " Were Hopworth and Saker within, either or both ? " he demanded in a calm voice. " Both," replied a bowing clerk, while all the other clerks looked up with reverent eyes at the much-esteemed pattern of a City man. Hopworth and Saker were enchanted. What could they do for their friend, this first-rate specimen of mer cantile genius ? Discount some paper ? Of course. Oh ! Spelter warrants as security. By all means. Should a clerk carry the money? No? Just as the first-rate specimen should wish. Good-bye. " Drive on, cabman, to Trestleton's offices in Writer's Row." " Anyone called to see me, Parsons ? " "No, sir; nobody important." " Dear me, you look very unwell, Parsons.

A little change pulls us up wonderfully. I'm in a good humour. Take this five-pound note, and spend a week at Margate. Go at once, for I may want you in a few days' time. No thanks, it is a present, for you are a good young man, if stupid." " Drive on, cabman, as quickly as possible across the water to Cherry-tree Terrace, Bermondsey." Mr. Trestleton lit a cigar and sat back thinking. No doubt the game was up. What a pity ! Batsby had somehow discovered the secret of Wagner's Wharf. The bubble would burst immediately, for Crick's unexpected complaisance betrayed something rotten in the state of Tovil's Yard. He must start instantly in order to get clear off. Happily he had money in hand, although he denied that fact in the office, not being desirous of un necessary disgorging. He had turned the additional heap of warrants, which Crick had returned to him, into money.

His pocket-book bulged with goodly stuffing, notes equivalent to many thousands of pounds. Well, well. That was a good thing, at all events. The world is large. Clearly he must disappear from the scene for a time, so must Caddick. He would get Caddick out of the way at once. What should be Caddick's future ? Had all gone well, Caddick's speedy demise would have been the desire of his heart. Caddick was marching steadily to a certain ignoble grave. But everything must be begun again, and it might be wise -to keep Cad dick in tow as a useful drudge and slave. A man quite under one's thumb is a useful acquisition, not to be idly cast aside. All this considered, Caddick should live. Of that he was determined. The giant must be taken in hand, broken of his drinking habits, his low vices, and reinstated on the pedestal from which he had fallen prone.

Oh, Mr. Trestleton ! you are a clever man, but can you do this thing ? Destruction is a devil's gift bestowed on us at birth. We can slay our enemy, be he six feet high, with a tiny bodkin no bigger than a needle ; but oh, Mr. Trestleton, what human bellows shall inflate empty lungs once more ? You took Tom Caddick, a soft piece of clay ; you moulded him to suit your will, you baked him in too hot a furnace. He has come out all over cracks, is crumb ling to dust. Do you really think you can make Tom Caddick what he was once more ? b Mr. Trestleton, seeing Rispah in her garden, dismissed his cab, turned the door-handle, and entered. She received him with a smile, for she wished to talk to him. Since her announcement to her husband, he had unaccountably avoided her, had indeed stayed out all the previous night.

She had lain anxiously awake for hours, a prey to all sorts of terrors. But about mid-day he passed by, unkempt, forlorn ; she knew at least that he was away of his own will, not in consequence of accident. He was never sober, but went about with a wild crew of topers, like the band of Comus, who were gracious enough to drink at his expense as much as ever he chose to give them. What did Mr. Trestleton advise under these distressing circumstances ? Was this a beginning of that terrible state which he had hinted at upon a former occasion ? Only yesterday she wound her arms about him, imploring him for his own sake, for hers, for another reason yet more sacred, to give up these boon companions. For an instant, he had seemed softened, then the glare at which she had learned to tremble, came into his eyes, he pushed her roughly from him, went out, and had not since returned.

Mr. Trestleton ground his teeth as he listened. Yester day, this would have been good news to him. To-day, it roused his wrath. It was essential to get Caddick out of the way immediately. Moments were precious, he must be found, but how ? Rispah knew nothing of his haunts. She was aware that he frequented the " Golden Lion." Perhaps, if good kind, Mr. Trestleton would go thither, he might learn something. That admirable friend departed, therefore, on his quest, leaving the little lady contented and soothed, to dream of peaceful days, perchance not very distant. Mr. Trestleton learned little at the " Golden Lion." The wharfinger from Cherry-tree Terrace had spent the night there in a hopeless state of intoxication. It was the opinion of the landlord that premonitory symptoms of delirium tremens were showing themselves.

He, the land lord, was far from objecting to a social glass, he even was inclined to look kindly on casual strayings from the path of sobriety, but it was certainly a pity to see a fine fellow like that going straight to the dogs. Why didn't his friends take him in hand ? Mr. Trestleton assured the landlord that such was his mission. He had come all this distance from the West End, on purpose to carry off the wharfinger. He would now go and seek the lost she<3p elsewhere, but begged mine host, should the boon companions arrive presently, which seemed possible, to detain the giant until his dear friend's return. " You take a load off my breast, sir," said the landlord. " I ain't over squeamish, but both missus and me draw liquor for him with breaking 'arts. It do seem such a shame. Might I be so bold as to offer you something, sir. Gratis, of course.

Say a pint of stout and mild ? I won't recommend the sperits, sir. We settle 'em to suit our customers, who wouldn't drink what you con sider proper in the West End. You won't ? No offence, sir. I'll be sure to keep him if he comes this way." The quest was a difficult one. The general merchant had never been inside so many public-houses in his life before. He resented the necessity, and boiled over with accumulated wrath against his victim each time he passed through a swing-door. The precious moments were fleet ing too. It was getting dark ; both he and Tom must be away before daylight, speeding in different directions to avoid pursuit. Not that he expected to be pursued, at least at present, if at all. City firms are very loath to prosecute. To vilwould never prosecute, for his wife's sake.

He had said as much. But everything seemed shaky — even Tovil, Crick, & Co. To be on the safe side he must keep out of the way, and so must Caddick. But where was that besotted, horrible, depraved heap of carrion ? Was it not too trying to the very best ordered temper ? He raged and gnashed his teeth. It was six o'clock before he returned to the " Golden Lion," despondent, goaded to exasperation. Mine host gave him a look of intelligence. The giant was caged in the bar-parlour, but was deeply sodden. Mr. Trestleton, controlling his anger with an effort, shook up the inert wreck, whispering in his sluggish ear : " Come out with me, you born fool, I have something important to communicate." As a blind dog mechanically obeys its master's voice, so did Thomas Caddick answer to the touch of the vulture claw.

He got up, steadied himself by clinging to his master's coat, stammered an excuse, and followed un steadily into the open air. " I should like to shake the breath out of your idiot body," hissed Mr. Trestleton. " You a man of business ? You ought to be strung up to the next lamp-post, and swing there till you rot, as a warning to filthy drunkards. What do you mean by it, eh ? I ordered you to drop the wharf that I might patch the web torn by your lunatic folly. Do you suppose I intended you to run riot on the town, with all disreputable London at your heels ? It has come to a point now, thanks to you and your wife. I shall be off, and leave you to your fate. You'll get penal servitude, and deserve it. Grey and yellow will become your complexion. In your present state a prison would kill you.

Oho ! you are fit to die, ain't you ? you unpardonable brandy-sponge." Unable to govern his wrath, Mr. Trestleton actually laid his two light firm steel fangs upon the giant, and battered him against the railings, till both were breath less. Tom passed a moist, trembling hand across histhrobbing temples. Great was the company of devils within. They were holding high carnival. They jumped and skipped and sang and danced down the sides and up the middle, till his weakened faculties refused to put two and two together. One burr alone remained clinging out of his master's scourge of thistles : " I shall be off and leave you to your fate." He clutched his head tightly, his brow wrinkling into lines. " Go and leave me ! " he growled, as he clung to the railings for support. " You won't do that. I knew it must come ; knew it must come !

Why was I ever born'? " " Why, indeed ! " echoed his master, poking him with his forefinger. " In order that you should be a satire on humanity. Faugh ! The gorilla is better far than you. His mission is to beat his breast, eat his enemies, and try to look like a man. He does all three tolerably well, and his Maker is pleased with him. You are his absolute antithesis. Born a man, you strive to be a hog : an excellent imitation, but I doubt whether your Maker is pleased with you. I am not." " Who made me what I am ? " shouted Tom fiercely, his energies roused by his tormentor's gibes. " Hog, am I ? of your forming then. Before I met you, I was as honest as most men. Your accursed shadow threw its blighting darkness over me. You drew me down, clog ging my attempts to rise till I was compelled to seek consolation in drink.

I hate you as man hates man but seldom. I shall die soon, maybe. When the time comes my sole thought shall be of you. With my parting breath a curse shall rise to Heaven which shall drag your black soul to nethermost hell, or there is no Supreme Being looking down on us." The veins were standing out like whipcords on Caddick's temples, his eyeballs were suffused with blood ; his thin wet hands, clutching the railing, upheld his quivering form with difficulty. Trestleton laughed a mocking laugh. "Is it gin or brandy which makes my Thomas so poetical ? My excellent Caddick was a seraph till he met me, eh ? Ungrateful Thomas. How about certain proceedings in India, whereby my Thomas's employers abruptly dispensed with his services ? Oho ! I am his evil genius, am I ? I, who gave him position, prospective wealth, and consequent happiness.

Ungrateful Thomas ! " And Mr. Trestleton laughed softly up into the thick even ing air. " Come, enough of this balderdash ! " he said, changing his bantering manner suddenly. " I am not here to listen to your whining ; keep that for your wretched wife. The game is up, the bubble burst. We must be off in different directions if we would escape Portland." " Go ! " repeated Caddick hazily. " I won't go unless I choose." " Then I shall leave you here, sole victim. The day you are condemned I shall be in the gallery." Caddick looked up with a leer, in which cunning and hate were blended with the brutal expression of a lower animal. " Supposing I denounce you now, and turn Queen's evidence?" "Not possible," said his master without flinching. He knew his slave, and his own power over him. " Not a spurious warrant but bears your signature.

You, indeed, are the chief malefactor. I could bring witnesses, Mowick and others, to show how you gulled me. But even admit that I instigated your line of conduct (a matter you could not prove), what then ? The law as regards an act of criminal nature is, that no urgency on the part of another short of physical compulsion — an absurd sup position in our case, considering your superior size and strength — is any excuse for a person committing a felonious act. In criminal cases all are principals, whatever their position between themselves. Supposing even that certain parties would, for the sake of obtaining your evidence, agree to overlook your fault, there are others who would immediately attack you, especially as to the bills you signed. Moreover, there was a little bit of forgery committed by my ingenious Thomas, through which an innocent old gentleman was mulcted of £5,000> which would look ugly if brought into court.

I fear my blessed Caddick's evidence might suffer by the exposure." Tom laid his head against the stone ledge of a ground floor window, and gave vent to a dull, heavy sound, like that which a bull makes when felled by the butcher. "Oh, you devil ! Have you no mercy ?" he whispered hoarsely. " What am I to do ? " " Bravo ! Now my Thomas is himself again. I felt sure he would be accessible to argument. My Thomas will want the sinews of war. See how affectionately thoughtful I am of his requirements. Here are £200. Button your pocket over — so. You will go straight home, be very civil to your wife, wash your face, put on decent garments, and be off quietly to-morrow morning. Truth to tell, Thomas, I am pretty sure that nobody will prosecute us ; but it is always best to be on the safe side. I shall be off myself by to-night's train to France, and lie perdu somewhere to watch the march of events.

If I had only had the gumption to mulct T. C. & Co. a little less, all might have been redeemed; but, unfortunately, every warrant of ours iu their hands was a spurious one. I calculated that, being quasi-relations of my own, they would be the least inclined to pry — wherein I was wrong. Fancy my sister, my own flesh and blood ! Consider those strong expressions, made by you about me just now, transferred to my sister on my account. Curses light on the heartless girl !" he cried with sudden venom. "May her lot be one of misery. May she sink surely to the most abject pitch of female degradation. May Waterloo Bridge be her end at last ! Tut, tut ! I fall a-cursing like a very drab. Your evil example, my Thomas, is contagious. Time presses. Perhaps you had better make an excuse to your wife, and leave alone."

" Not if I know it ! " ejaculated Tom, stirred by re membrance of something. " Me and my wife are one." " Why is he all at once so loving ? " demanded Mr. Trestleton of the evening star, a humorous planet, which had come out expressly to wink at him. " Thomas, believe me, you had better go alone." " Who is to take the bottle from me then ? She and I shall never part," said Tom with a determined dogged ness, which set the other schemer pondering. " Come what may, we'll stick together." " Dear, dear ! These vulgar importunate affections ! How difficult it is to save people despite themselves. See. I have written down directions for you on this page from my pocket-book. My address will be ' L'Ange Blanc, Honfleur,' my name Mr. Hodding. You had better, to put them off the scent, start openly, telling every one that you are off to Liverpool.

Change somewhere, and go by cross trains to Penthallan, whence a steamer starts for the French coast. Wake up, you infernal idiot ! " added Trestleton, savagely shaking once more the mass which threatened to become inert. " As you hope to keep your skin sound, rouse yourself." Mr. Trestleton was in a dilemma. He had a train to catch. Yet it was rash to leave this spirituous depositary of important secrets clinging to a railing, ready to blab to the first policeman who should threaten to run him in. Nothing venture, nothing win. Mr. Trestleton was forced once more to trust to luck. He walked rapidly away, called the first empty hansom ; was gone — leaving Caddick still clinging to the area-railings. Tom stood staring at the evening star. He did not recognise that luminary, being on more familiar terms with her morning twin.

But she served as a focus for his eddying thoughts, a fulcrum for the reduction of his chaotic mind to order. It was all up. He must go. Rispah must go too, come of it what might. Her father was very ill, dying probably. If he could only be induced to die at once, without communicating any more with his daughter. Yet, after all, there was sure to be something in his will about a child. His hopes were certain to be frustrated. Why was this event of Rispah's to take place just now, to weld his bonds the tighter to his master ? Without money of his own, there was no escape from him, for he held the purse. Cruel destiny ! The Fates indeed ! No wonder they have always been limned as hideous crones, malicious beldames, intent only on thwarting human wishes. Trestleton clung to his slave as a useful chattel.

Mr. Caddick clutched the bars with savage tightness as he reviewed his position. That prospective birth ! Are not hundreds of coroneted people sighing to the moon for heirs in vain ? Why was he to be singled out for a blessing which was to him a curse ? If he could only have struck that blow unawares ! At the thought dews broke upon his forehead. Somebody passing asked if he were ill. " If you were a woman, old pal," remarked the passenger, " I should dog you to prevent suicide." He passed on. Tom Caddick leaned against the railings, his head thrown back to receive the full light of that evening star. What could he do to get out of this difficulty? That child would certainly rob him of his last chance of escape from slavery. Trestleton's money was in his pocket;. Trestle ton's influence hovering around.

What a future ! To be Trestleton's slave for evermore. Oh ! if a trap-door would show itself. In old romances, when the hero is getting worsted by a dozen assailants, a stranger, mysteriously cloaked, comes to his assistance, or else a wall gives way, precipitating him into the boudoir of a miracle of beauty. Nowadays, we must extricate ourselves single handed from our difficulties or perish in the attempt. Why do not the ghosts, who idle away their spare time gambolling with guitars or twisting tables, turn their attention to the whisking away of human trouble ? At present their acrobatic feats are beneath contempt. They would be delightful as Dei ex machind. Mr. Caddick leaned against the railings, staring for inspiration at the evening star. Other stars got out of bed, confusing his brain utterly.

" I must get clear out of this," he thought. " Rispah must not wander out of sight. We must go alone together. Who knows what may happen ? I'm glad I didnot strike her — very glad. All trace of us must be destroyed. If I could shake off the thrall of Trestleton I should be free, and then " Mr. Caddick shook himself with a shiver, and moved mechanically through the swing-door of the " Golden Lion."

Chapter II

Etheldreda Square was in a turmoil. Coal-carts were vomiting their contents down a hole opposite to Mrs. Pawker's select boarding-house with great noise. Father Time paused in horror at the desecration of his retreat, forgetting to nibble off his daisy-tops ; the vendor of dog-collars looked on as if he would like to chain up those sacks for his own private use ; a crowd of gutter children whooped and hallooed, as though nature, with a nice eye for matching colours, had got up this black cataract for their especial benefit. Mrs. Pawker, in curl papers, was tremulously watchful lest neighbours should shoot out and ravish stray knobs. " Jessie ! " she kept crying. " Come down do and help. How can I keep my eyes everywhere when I've breakfasts to get for Lord knows who?" Mrs. Bacheus shouted from an upper window that she had her eyes open ; that she had known people make fortunes by retailing stolen pill boxes ; that she kept a dog concealed, whose predilection was for thieves' calves at breakfast ; that his bite meant hydrophobia, which could only be worked off by excru ciating use of a stomach-pump ; and that she would arrange her hair at once.

This last threat was not Withes out its effect, for her chaste frilled head-piece having fallen back in the exertion of theoretical thief -catching, betrayed glimpses of a downy Sahara sufficiently appalliug to have terrified the brave des braves himself. Miss Jessie appeared, unwashed but doughy, her head like unto a cocoa-nut gnawed by insects, protesting that the coal-man was a fright, and occupying herself with the unswathing of Polly's cage from the recesses of a flannel drapery, whose strings suggested that it had once adorned her virgin form. " Don't make such a fuss, ma, don't ! " she screamed shrilly. " I know this house will be turned into an hospital soon, with all the nurses and matrons. There's that American woman, Mrs. McGrowther, who came in lately. She's always studying' medicine books, and receiving visits from the Yankee doctor.

The war's broken out. If they're going, I wish they'd go. A wicked, scraggy old thing, gushing over every young man she meets, as though they could all be like-her son who's dead. If he was like that Baby Bacheus, he was a beauty, that's all. As for him, he makes the place into a Golgotha with his nasty preparations. I saw him come in with a parcel last night, which I know was a dead man's arm. There, give me the tea-pot, and let's have a bite as we'returned out of bed untimely ; not that Polly and I can have an appetite, after tumbling down a flight over that dratted boy's arteries. Presently, we shall have heads and legs littering the landing, and skeletons rattling inside the piano. The house is growing like a family vault, it is, sorting itself for Judgment Day." " Bed, is it ? Ye've too much bed for your com plexion's gude," cried Mrs. Bacheus, looming on the scene.

" If ye'd ever bin a nurse under me, ye'd not have wet your pillow with novel-fudge tears, I warrant. The American doctor who calls to see the Yankee madam wots well of the benefit of military discipline. Breakfast breakfast, leddies ! " Mrs. McGrowther answered the call, appearing with a book in her hand which seemed to absorb her attention. She nodded kindly to Baby as he joined the group, turning up her eyes and murmuring : " The same age as my lost darling, the same age ! " Baby devoured his breakfast without speaking, arranging round his plate the while a number of tiny dolls which he placed musingly in order of procession. As this mysterious rite was per formed each day, no one took any notice. " Miss Jenkins, you lazy thing ! " screamed Miss Jessie. " Of course you are lying abed when we are forced to be up.

If you don't come down, you shall have no breakfast. I shan't fetch and carry for you." The decrepit old woman tottered in and took her seat with a sigh. As she did so she unfolded from her scarf a grey mass which she smoothed upon her knee. "What i' the deil's name's that?" cried Mrs. Bacheus. " Well I never ! " screamed Miss Jessie. " A cat ! Oh ! you bad old thing. You bought it, I know, to spite Polly. But I won't have it. I'll drown it in the water butt. Polly's nerves are delicate." In corroboration of this statement Polly stood on his head in his cage, and set up a prolonged creaking, like that which Temple Bar will make when it falls down. " Pretty Polly ! Poll — Poll ! Don't insinuate ! " Then he went through a tapping and hammering performance, running up and down his perch with head on one side like a parochial commissions of observation sent to report on the fallen Bar ; then he shrieked like a pencil scratching on a slate, and commenced a general plucking out and scattering of feathers, threatening instant suicide unless the vile interloper were immediately removed.

"I'll throttle the de'ilish bird, if ye. don't tak' it oot!" announced Mrs. Bacheus; whereupon Miss Jessie, bridling, said : " Well, I'm sure! A black negro slave in my own ma's house ! " and exposed to view a perspective of floury cheek for the mollification of the martyr's injured feelings. " I did not buy it," sighed Miss Jenkins ; " it arrived somehow and took up its quarters in my room. See how it purrs. Animals sometimes drop from somewhere and make themselves at home. They are disembodied spirits of dead friends, come to comfort us. And I want a friend so badly. I'm so old ; so very old ! " "You shall keep your cat, Miss Jenkins," affably determined Mrs. Bacheus. " Who'll pay for the feeding of it, I'd like to know ? " asked querulous Mrs. Pawker. " A trifle of cat's-meat won't kill us," observed Baby, pocketing his bundle of dolls.

Such unaccustomed kindness brought a flickering ghostly smile to the ancient lady's face. " Thank you," she said. " I am so chilly. I saw the coals come in." " Ma and I earn our bread by the sweat of our brows,"1 screamed Jessie, " as you ought, who won't even make your bed. It's laziness makes you chilly." " Gold, so cold," bleated her victim. " My old blood runs slow, although I am so thin. Your parrot, Miss Jessie, is shivering like me. Give it some fire if you won't give me any. Polly and I are both cold." " Hoity toity, what a pother ! " cried the mealy one. " Fancy fires in June ! " " We have them in New York," remarked Mrs. McGrowther. " My Emile was chilly and always said " " I won't have fires before October," interrupted Mrs. Pawker, twitching her nose tremulously. " Coals don't matter to you, but they lie on my chest all night.

You Americans are always trying to ruin us English. And you, who were born out of us, ought to be ashamed. A snake in a bosom you are. A thankless tooth ! Cleaning up grates, and all for that lazy old bag o' bones. Go along. It's against nature, and I have no patience ! " Here Miss Jessie flung her flannel wrapper at her mother, with a sharp " Don't, ma ! Good gracious. Don't insinuate to a lady who paid a quarter in advance. Fires are ridiculous and ruinous. Why can't Miss Jenkins run about a bit as I do ? Nothing like exercise. So awful obstinate and lazy ; never doing her bed or nothing. I wonder she looks us in the face ! " Miss Jenkins did look her in the face sorrowfully, but quietly, as she hugged her cat, then whistled through the desert of her gums, " My working days are over. I must sit and wait.