J. Cole
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Emma Gellibrand >> J. Cole
As I have said before, I am very nervous, and the prospect of
spending several more weeks in the big London house, without my
husband, was far from pleasant; so I invited my widowed sister and
her girls to stay with me some time longer, and made up my mind to
banish my fears, and think of nothing but that the dark nights would
be getting shorter and shorter, and meanwhile our house was well
protected, as far as good strong bolts and chains could do so.
One night I felt more nervous than usual. I had expected a letter
from America for some days past, and none had arrived. On this
evening I knew the mail was due, and I waited anxiously for the last
ring of the postman at ten o'clock; but I was doomed to listen in
vain. There was the sharp, loud ring next door, but not at ours; and
I went to my room earlier than the others, really to give way to a
few tears that I could not control.
I sat by my bedroom fire, thinking, and, I am afraid, conjuring up
all sorts of terrible reasons for my dear husband's silence, until I
must have fallen asleep, for I awoke chilly and cramped from the
uncomfortable posture I had slept in. The fire was out, and the house
silent as the grave; not even a carriage passing to take up some late
guest. I looked at the clock, half-past three, and then from my
window. It was that "darkest hour before dawn," and I hurried into
bed, and endeavored to sleep; but no, I was hopelessly wide awake. No
amount of counting, or mental exercise on the subject of "sheep going
through a hedge," had any effect, and I found myself lying awake,
listening. Yes, I knew that I was _listening for something that I
should hear before long, but I did not know what._
"Hark! what was that?"--a sudden thud, as if something had fallen
somewhere in the house; then silence, except for the loud beating of
my heart, that threatened to suffocate me. "Nonsense," I said to
myself, "I am foolishly nervous to-night. It is nothing here, or
Bogie would bark;" so I tried again to sleep. Hush! Surely that was a
footstep going up or down the stairs! I could not endure the agony of
being alone any longer, but would go to my sister's room, just across
the landing, and get her to come and stay the rest of the night with
me. I put on my slippers and dressing-gown, and opening my door, came
face to face with my sister, who was coming to me.
"Let me come in," she said, "and don't let us alarm the girls; but I
feel certain something is going on down-stairs. Bogie barked
furiously an hour ago, and then was suddenly silent."
"That must have been when I was asleep," I replied; "but no doubt Joe
heard him, and has taken him in."
"That may be," said my sister, "but I have kept on hearing queer
noises at the back of the house; they seemed in Joe's room at first.
Come and listen yourself on the stairs."
It is strange, but true, that many persons, horribly nervous at the
thought of danger, find all their presence of mind in full force when
actually called upon to face it. So it is with me, and so it was on
that night. I stood on the landing, and listened, and in a few
moments heard muffled sounds down-stairs, like persons moving about
stealthily.
"There is certainly somebody down there, Nelly," I said to my sister,
"and they are down in the basement. If we could creep down quietly
and get into the drawing-room, we might open the window and call the
watchman or policeman; both are on duty until seven."
"But think," said my sister, "of the fright of the girls if they hear
us, and find they are left alone. The servants, too, will scream, and
rush about, as they always do. Let us go down and make sure there are
thieves, and then see what is best to be done. The door at the top of
the kitchen stairs is locked, so they must be down there; and perhaps
if we could get the watchman to come in quietly, we might catch them
in a trap, by letting him through the drawing-room, and into the
conservatory. He could get into the garden from there, and as they
must have got in that way from the mews, over the stable wall, and
through the garden, they would try to escape the same way, and the
watchman would be waiting for them, and cut off their retreat."
I agreed, and we stole down-stairs into the drawing-room, where we
locked ourselves in, then very gently and carefully drew up one of
the side blinds of the bay window. The morning had begun to break,
and everything in the wide road was distinctly visible. In the
distance I could see the policeman on duty, but on the opposite side,
and going away from our house instead of towards it. He would turn
the corner at the top of the road, and go past the houses parallel
with the backs of our row, and then appear at the opposite end of the
park, and come along our side; there was no intermediate turning--
nothing but an unbroken row of about forty detached houses facing
each other.
What could we do? I dared not wait until the policeman came back;
quite twenty minutes must pass before then, and day being so near at
hand, the light was increasing every moment, and the burglars would
surely not leave without visiting the drawing-room and dining-room,
and would perhaps murder us to save themselves from detection.
If I could only attract the policeman's attention, but how?
My sister was close to the door listening, and every instant we
dreaded hearing them coming up the kitchen stairs. I could not
understand Bogie not barking, and Joe not waking, for where I was I
could distinctly hear the men moving about in the pantry and kitchen.
"I wonder," I said to my sister, "if I could put something across
from this balcony to the stonework by the front steps? It seems such
a little distance, and if I could step across, I could open the front
gate in an instant, and run after the policeman. I shall try."
"You will fall and kill yourself," my sister said; "the space is much
wider than you think."
But I was determined to try; for if I let that policeman go out of
sight, what horrors might happen in the twenty minutes before he
would come back.
The idea of one of the girls waking and calling out, or Joe waking
and being shot or stabbed, gave me a feeling of desperation, as
though I alone could and must save them.
Luckily the house was splendidly built, every window-sash sliding
noiselessly and easily in its groove. I opened the one nearest to the
hall door steps, and saw that the stone ledge abutted to within about
two feet of the low balcony of the window; but I was too nervous to
trust myself to spring across even that distance. At that moment my
sister whispered:--
"I hear somebody coming up the kitchen stairs!"
Desperately I cast my eyes round the room for something to bridge the
open space, that would bear my weight, if only for a moment. The
fender-stool caught my eye; that might do, it was strong, and more
than long enough. In an instant we had it across, and I was out of
the window and down the front steps.
As I turned the handle of the heavy iron gate, I looked down at the
front kitchen window. A man stood in the kitchen, and he looked up
and saw me--such a horrible-looking ruffian, too. Fear lent wings to
my feet, and I flew up the road. The watchman was just entering the
park from the opposite end; he saw me, and sounded his whistle; the
policeman turned and ran towards me. I was too exhausted to speak,
and he caught me, just as, having gasped "Thieves at 50!" (the number
of our house), I fell forward in a dead swoon.
When I recovered, I was lying on my own bed, my sister, the scared
servants, and the policeman, all around me. From them I heard that
directly the man in the kitchen caught sight of me, he warned his
companion, who was busy forcing the lock of the door at the head of
the kitchen stairs, and my sister heard them both rushing across the
garden, where they had a ladder against the stable-wall. They must
have pulled this up after them, and tossed it into the next garden,
where it was found, to delay pursuit. The park-keeper had, after
sounding his whistle, rushed to our house, got in at the window, and
ran to the door at the top of the kitchen stairs, but it was quite
impossible to open it; the burglars had cleverly left something in
the lock when disturbed, and the key would not turn. He then went
through the drawing-room into the conservatory, where a glass door
opened on the garden; but by the time the heavy sliding glass panel
was unfastened, and the inner door unbolted, the men had disappeared.
They took with them much less than they hoped to have done, for there
were parcels and packets of spoons, forks, and a case of very
handsome gold salt-cellars, a marriage gift, always kept in a baize-
lined chest in the pantry, the key of which I retained, and which
chest was supposed until now to be proof against burglars; the lock
had been burnt all round with some instrument, most likely a poker
heated in the gas, and then forced inwards from the burnt woodwork.
"How was it," I asked, "Joe did not wake during all this, or Bogie
bark?"
As I asked the question, I noticed that my sister turned away; and
Mrs. Wilson, after vainly endeavoring to look unconcerned, threw her
apron suddenly over her head, and burst out crying.
"What is the matter?" I said, sitting up; "what are you all hiding
from me? Send Joe to me; I will learn the truth from him."
At this the policeman came forward, and then I heard that Joe was
missing, his room was in great disorder, and one of his shoes,
evidently dropped in his hurry, had been found in the garden, near
some spoons thrown down by the thieves; his clothes were gone, so he
evidently had dressed himself after pretending to go to bed as usual;
his blankets and sheets were taken away, used no doubt, the policeman
said, to wrap up the stolen things.
"Is it possible," I asked, "that you suspect Joe is in league with
these burglars?"
"Well, mum," said the man, "it looks queer, and very like it. He
slept down-stairs close to the very door where they got in; he never
gives no alarm, he must have been expecting something, or else why
was he dressed? And how did his shoe come in the garden? And what's
more to the point, if so be as he's innercent, where is he? These
young rascals is that artful, you'd be surprised to know the dodges
they're up to."
"But," I interrupted, "it is impossible, it is cruel to suspect him.
He is gone, true enough, but I'm sure he will come back. Perhaps he
ran after the men to try and catch them, and dropped his shoe then."
"That's not likely, mum," said he, with a pitying smile at my
ignorance of circumstantial evidence; "he'd have called out to stop
'em, and it 'aint likely they'd have let him get up their ladder,
afore chucking of it into the next garden, if so be as he was a-
chasing of 'em to get 'em took. No, mar'm; I'm very sorry, particular
as you seem so kindly disposed; but, in my humble opinion, he's a
artful young dodger, and this 'ere job has been planned ever so long,
and he's connived at it, and has hooked it along with his pals. I
knows 'em, but we'll soon nab him; and if so be as you'll be so kind
as to let me take down in writin' all you knows about 'J. Cole,'
which is his name, I'm informed, where you took him from, his
character, and previous career, it will help considerable in laying
hands on him; and when he's found we'll soon find his pals."
Of course, I told all I knew about Joe. I felt positive he would come
back, perhaps in a few minutes, to explain everything. Besides, there
was Bogie, too. Why should he take Bogie? The policeman suggested
that "perhaps the dawg foller'd him, and he had taken it along with
him, to prevent being traced by its means."
At length, all this questioning being over, the household settled
down into a sort of strange calm. It seemed to us days since we had
said "Good-night," and sought our rooms on that night, and yet it was
only twenty-four hours ago; in that short time how much had taken
place! On going over all the plate, etc., we missed many more things;
and Mrs. Wilson, whose faith in Joe's honesty never wavered, began to
think the poor boy might have been frightened at having slept through
the robbery; and as he was so proud of having the plate used every
day in his charge, when he discovered it had been stolen, he might
have feared we should blame him so much for it, that he had run away
home to his people in his fright, meaning to ask his father, or his
adored Dick, to return to me and plead for him. I thought, too, this
was possible, for I knew how terribly he would reproach himself for
letting anything in his care be stolen. I therefore made up my mind
to telegraph to his father at once; but, not to alarm him, I said:--
"Is Joe with you? Have reason to think he has gone home. Answer
back."
The answer came some hours after, for in those small villages
communication was difficult. The reply ran thus:--
"We have not seen Joe; if he comes to-night will write at once.
Hoping there is nothing wrong."
So that surmise was a mistake, for Joe had money, and would go by
train if he went home, and be there in two hours.
All the household sat up nearly all that night, or rested
uncomfortably on sofas and armchairs; we felt too unsettled to go to
bed, though worn out with suspense, and the previous excitement and
fright. Officials and detectives came and went during the evening,
and looked about for traces of the robbers, and before night a
description of the stolen things, and a most minute one of Joe, were
posted outside the police-stations, and all round London for miles. A
reward of twenty pounds was offered for Joe, and my heart ached to
know there was a hue and cry after him like a common thief.
What would the old parents think? and how would Dick feel?--Dick
whose good counsels and careful training had made Joe what I _knew_
he was, in spite of every suspicion.
The next day I still felt sure he would come, and I went down into
the room where he used to sleep, and saw Mrs. Wilson had put all in
order, and fresh blankets sheets were on the little bed, all ready
for him. So many things put me in mind of the loving, gentle
disposition. A little flower-vase I valued very much had been broken
by Bogie romping with one of my nieces, and knocking it down. It was
broken in more than twenty pieces; and after I had patiently tried to
mend it myself, and my nieces, with still greater patience, had had
their turn at it, we had given it up as a bad job, and thought it had
long ago gone onto the dust-heap.
There were some shelves on the wall of Joe's room where his treasures
were kept; and on one of these shelves, covered with an old white
handkerchief, was a little tray containing the vase, a bottle of
cement, and a camel's-hair brush. The mending was finished, all but
two or three of the smallest pieces, and beautifully done; it must
have taken time, and an amount of patience that put my efforts and
those of the girls to shame; but Joe's was a labor of love, and did
not weary him. He would probably have put it in its usual place one
morning, when mended, and said nothing about it until I found it out,
and then confessed, in his own queer way, "Please, I knew you was
sorry it was broke, and so I mended it;" then he would have hurried
away, flushed with pleasure at my few words of thanks and praise.
On the mantelpiece were more of Joe's treasures, four or five cheap
photographs, the subjects quite characteristic of Joe. One of them
was a religious subject, "The Shepherd with a little lamb on his
shoulders." A silent prayer went up from my heart that somewhere that
same Good Shepherd was finding lost Joe, and bringing him safely back
to us.
There were some pebbles he had picked up during a memorable trip to
Margate with Dick, a year before I saw him; which pebbles he firmly
believed were real "aggits," and had promised to have them polished
soon, and made into brooch and earrings for Mrs. Wilson.
There was a very old-fashioned photograph of myself that I had torn
in half, and thrown into the waste-paper basket. I saw this had been
carefully joined together and enclosed in a cheap frame--the only one
that could boast of being so preserved. I suppose Joe could only
afford one frame, and his sense of the fitness of things made him
choose the Missis's picture to be first honored.
How sad I felt looking round the room! People may smile at my feeling
so sad and concerned about a servant, a common, lowborn page-boy. Ay,
smile on, if you will, but tell me, my friend, can you say, if you
were in Joe's position at that time, with circumstantial evidence so
strong against you, poor and lowly as he was, are there four or five,
or even two or three of your friends who would believe in you, stand
up for you, and trust in you, in spite of all, as we did for Joe?
I had gone up to my sitting-room, after telling Mary to light the
fire in poor Joe's room, and let it look warm and cosey; for I had
some sort of presentiment that I should see the poor boy again very
soon--how, I knew not, but I have all my life been subject to
spiritual influences, and have seldom been mistaken in them.
We were all thinking of going early to rest, for since the robbery
none of us had had any real sleep. Suddenly the front door-bell rang
timidly, as if the visitor were not quite sure of its being right to
pull the handle.
"Perhaps that's Joe," said my sister.
But I knew Joe would not ring that bell.
We heard Mary open the door, and a man's voice ask if Mr. Aylmer
lived there.
"Yes," said Mary, "but he is abroad; but you can see Mrs. Aylmer."
Then came a low murmuring of voices, and Mary came in, saying:--
"Oh, ma'am, it's Dick, Joe's brother; and he says may he see you?"
"Send him in here at once," I replied.
And in a moment Dick stood before me--Dick, Joe's beau-ideal of all
that was good, noble, and to be admired. I must say the mind-picture
I had formed of Dick was totally unlike the reality. I had expected
to see a sunburnt, big fellow, with broad shoulders and expressive
features.
The real Dick was a thin, delicate-looking young man, with a pale
face, and black straight hair. He stood with his hat in his hand,
looking down as if afraid to speak.
"Oh, pray come in," I cried, going forward to meet him. "I know who
you are. Oh, have you brought me any news of poor Joe? We are all his
friends here, his true friends, and you must let us be yours too in
this trouble. Have you seen him?"
At my words the bowed head was lifted up, and then I saw Dick's face
as it was. If ever truth, honor, and generosity looked out from the
windows of a soul, they looked out of those large blue eyes of
Dick's--eyes so exactly like Joe's in expression, that the black
lashes instead of the fair ones seemed wrong somehow.
"God bless you, lady, for them words," said Dick; and before I could
prevent it, he had knelt at my feet, caught my hand and pressed it to
his lips, while wild sobs broke from him.
"Forgive me," he said, rising to his feet, and leaning with one hand
on the back of a chair, his whole frame shaking with emotion.
"Forgive me for givin' way like this; but I've seen them papers about
our Joe, and I know what's being thought of him, and I've come here
ashamed to see you, thinkin' you believed as the rest do, that Joe
robbed you after all your goodness to him. Why, lady, I tell you,
rather than I'd believe that of my little lad, as I thrashed till my
heart almost broke to hear him sob, for the only lie as he ever told
in all his life; if I could believe it, I'd take father's old gun and
end my life, for I'd be a beast, not fit to live any longer. And I
thought you doubted him too; but now I hear you say you're his
friend, and believes in him, and don't think he robbed you, I know
now there's good folks in the world, and there's mercy and justice,
and it ain't all wrong, as I'd come a'most to think as it was, when I
first know'd about this 'ere."
"Sit down, Dick," I said, "and recover yourself, and let us see what
can be done. I will tell you all that has happened, and then perhaps
you can throw some light on Joe's conduct--you who know him so well."
Dick sat down, and shading his eyes with his hand that his tears
might not betray his weakness any more, he listened quietly while I
went over all the events of that dreadful night.
When I had finished, Dick sat for some moments quite silent, then
with a weary gesture, passing his hand across his forehead, he
remarked sadly:--
"I can't make nothing of it; it's a thing beyond my understanding.
I'm that dazed like, I can't see nothin' straight. However, what I've
got to do is to find Joe, and that I mean to do; if he's alive I'll
find him, and then let him speak for hisself. I don't believe he's
done nothing wrong, but if he has done ever so little or ever so
much, he'll '_own up to it whatever it is_,' that's what Joe'll do. I
told him to lay by them words and hold to 'em, and I'll lay my life
he'll do as I told him. I've got a bed down Marylebone way, at my
aunt's what's married to a policeman; I'm to stay there, and I'll
have a talk with 'em about this and get some advice. I know Joe's
innercent, and why don't he come and say so? But I'll find him."
I inquired about the old people, and how they bore their trial.
"Father's a'most beside hisself," said Dick; "and only that he's got
to keep mother in the dark about this, he'd have come with me; but
mother, she's a-bed with rheumatics, and doctor told father her heart
was weak-like, and she mustn't be told, or it would p'raps kill her.
She thinks a deal of Joe, does mother, being the youngest, and always
such a sort of lovin' little chap he were." And here Dick's voice
broke again, and I made him go down to Mrs. Wilson, and have some
refreshment before leaving, and he promised to see me again the first
thing in the morning, when he had talked to his friend, the
policeman.
Scarcely had Dick gone, when a loud, and this time firm ring,
announced another visitor, and in a cab, too, I could hear. Evidently
there was no going to rest early that night, as ten o'clock was then
striking.
Soon, to my surprise, I heard a well-known voice, and Mary announced
Dr. Loring, my husband's old friend, of whom I have already spoken.
"Well, my dear," he cried, in his pleasant, cheerful voice, that in
itself seemed to lift some of the heaviness from my heart, "are you
not astonished to see me at such an hour?"
"Astonished, certainly," I replied; "but very, very glad. You are
always welcome; and more than ever now, when we are in trouble and
sorrow. Do sit down, and stay with me awhile."
"Yes, I will, for an hour, gladly," he said. "But there's something
outside that had better be brought in first. You know I've only just
arrived from Devonshire, and there are two barrels of Devonshire
apples on that cab, one for you, and one for the wife, that is why
you see me here; for I thought it would not be ten minutes out of my
road to pass by here, and leave them with you, and so save the
trouble of sending them by carrier to-morrow."
I rang for Mary, and the doctor suggested the apples being put
somewhere where the smell of them could not penetrate up-stairs; for,
as he truly remarked, "Though a fine ripe pippin is delicious to eat
at breakfast or luncheon, the smell of them shut up in a house is
horrible."
"I dare say Mrs. Wilson will find a place in the basement," I said;
"for we don't use half the room there is down there."
Having ordered the barrel to be stowed away, I soon settled my
visitor comfortably in an armchair by the fire, with a cup of his
favorite cocoa by his side.
"And now, my dear," said he, "tell me about this burglary that has
taken place, and which has made you look as if you wanted me to take
care of you a while, and bring back some color to your pale cheeks.
And what about this boy? Is it the same queer little fellow who chose
midnight to play his pranks in once before? I'm not often deceived in
a face, and I thought his was an honest one. I"--
"So it was," I interrupted; "don't say a word until I've told you
all, and you will"--
I had scarcely begun speaking, when a succession of the most fearful
screams arose from down-stairs, each rising louder and louder, in the
extreme of terror. My sister, who had gone to her room, rushed down
to me; the girls, in their dressing-gowns, just as they were
preparing for bed, followed, calling out, "Auntie! O Auntie! what is
it? Who is screaming? What can be the matter?" Hardly were they in
the room when Mary rushed in, ghastly, her eyes staring, and in a
voice hoarse with terror, gasped out, "Come! come! he's found! he's
murdered! I saw him. He's lying in the cellar, with his throat cut.
Oh, it's horrible!" Then she began to scream again.
The doctor tried to hold me back, but I broke from him, and ran down-
stairs, where I could find no one; all was dark in the kitchens, but
there was a light in the area, and I was soon there, followed by Dr.
Loring.
By the open cellar-door stood Mrs. Wilson, and the cabman with her.
Directly she saw me, she called out, "Oh, dear mistress, don't you
come here; it's not a sight for you. Take her away, Dr. Loring, she
musn't see it."