Mad: A Story of Dust and Ashes. Fenn George Manville

no ringing nohow. She’s tucked up all right, she is; d’yer hear?”

      The preserver-handle was very elastic, and the knob tapped playfully upon the doctor’s forehead as the ruffian spoke; but the bound man was too confused to answer, and though what followed seemed to him like a wild dream, yet his heart leaped once as he saw the fellow snatch the will from the floor, where it had fallen, tear open the seal, and hold the paper to the light.

      “What’s in it, Bill?” growled another of the gentry.

      “Gallussed if I know,” said the other; “but ’tain’t no good;” and the doctor saw it crushed together and thrown upon the fire, where it blazed up and was soon consumed. But confused as the doctor was, the next proceedings of the ruffians produced groan after groan from his breast, as they attacked his vanity, and metaphorically rolled him in the dust; for removing a fur cap that he wore, so as to cool his brain perhaps, and displaying thereby a very closely-cropped bullet-head, the leader of the gang, as he seemed to be, first snapped the doctor’s gold-chain, and set it and watch at liberty; for the doctor’s bonds would have impeded their being taken off in the normal fashion. Then followed, one after the other, to be placed in a small carpet-bag with the watch and chain, the spectacle-case and gold eyeglass; the handsomely-chased gold snuff-box from one pocket, gold toothpick from another. The set of studs were dragged from the cambric front; a massively-set diamond ring from the doctor’s right hand, and a signet from his left; while as the various ornaments were passed from one to the other, and deposited in the bag, a broad grin followed each groan from the doctor.

      “Where’s his puss, Bill?” said Number 8 ruffian, who was the Judas Iscariot of the party, and carried the bag.

      “Here it is,” growled Bill, whose hands were wonderfully active for so heavy, burly-looking a man, diving in and out of pocket after pocket, and now drawing forth a very handsome, elaborately-gilt, russia-leather portemonnaie – half purse, half pocket-book – and grinning as he opened it, he drew out and laid upon the table, first a railway insurance ticket, next a lancet, then a crooked sixpence, and lastly a threepenny-piece.

      “Here, lay holt o’ this ’ere, and slit it up,” said Number 2 ruffian, handing his companion an open clasp-knife.

      The gentleman called Bill took the knife and ripped the purse all to pieces, tearing leather from lining everywhere; but no notes fell out, no secret pocket was disclosed; and throwing the remains of the purse upon the fire with an aspect of the most profound disgust upon his face, the fellow exclaimed, “I’m gallussed!”

      “Let’s wet it, Bill, afore we goes any further,” said Number 8, and as he crossed silently to the sideboard, and brought out the port and another decanter, the doctor saw that the men were without boots, which accounted to him for their sudden attack.

      The wine and glasses were placed upon the table, and the burglars very coolly proceeded to refresh themselves – one seating himself upon the table, another upon a chair, and the last taking his place upon the coal-scuttle – treating it as if it were a saddle.

      “Here’s towards yer, old un!” growled the big-jawed gentleman called Bill, tossing, or rather pouring, a glass of wine down his bull throat as he looked at the doctor – his companions paying the same compliment to Octavius, who, however, seemed to be perfectly insensible.

      All at once a faint scream was heard from another part of the house, when one of the men rose.

      “She thinks as we’re gone, Bill,” said ruffian Number 2, with a grin. “Just go and show her that mug of yours, and she’ll soon shut them pipes.”

      Bill of the big jaw rose, displaying his teeth so that the lips seemed to assimilate with the gums; and he, apparently taking his comrade’s remark for a compliment, walked out on the points of his toes, in a peculiar fashion of his own; when, winking to his companion, Number 2 stole softly to the sideboard, looked about a bit, and then seizing a small silver salver, doubled it by main force, and slipped it into the pocket of his velveteen coat. He then darted back to his place, whispered “halves” to his companion, and began helping himself to more wine, just as Bill hurried in again, glancing suspiciously about him with his peculiarly restless, chameleon-like eyes, which seemed to be on the watch for plunder, trickery, and Nemesis, at one and the same time, and now it was evident that he suspected a march to have been stolen upon him.

      However, a few more glasses of wine were drunk, and then the men proceeded to methodically ransack the place, finding a tolerable booty of old-fashioned plate in the sideboard; while from the bureau, another gold watch, with its old-fashioned broad chain and seals; a ring or two, some quaint jewellery, and a few sovereigns and small change were obtained.

      The cords which bound the brothers were then carefully examined, and a knot or two tightened, so that the doctor winced; then the candles were extinguished, and the big-jawed man growled in the doctor’s ear, “Now, jest you move, that’s all; and I’m gallussed – ”

      The fellow did not finish his speech verbally, but again illustrated his meaning with a tap of the life-preserver.

      “We ain’t a-goin’ yet,” growled Number 8; “so don’t you think it. I have used this ’ere, and I ain’t used it,” he said, showing his clasp-knife; “but it’s a sharp un – so I tell you; and where it does go, it goes – so look out.”

      “This one’s been a-drinkin’; smell his breath,” said Number 2, nodding at old Octavius, as he cast the light from the lantern upon his wild face.

      Just then the doctor gave a loud groan, for his cords hurt him.

      “Shove a bit in his mouth, Bill, or he’ll begin to pipe, p’r’aps,” growled Number 8.

      “He’d best not,” said Bill savagely; “but how-so-be he shall have it; there’s some knives in that there drawer.”

      Doctor Hardon’s eyes rolled in their sockets as he saw one of the men go to the sideboard drawer and bring out a large table-knife. Then the head of the party took it from his companion’s hand and held the blade between the bars, where the fire yet glowed, when the effect in a few minutes was to loosen the handle, for the resin melted, and the blade slipped out. The man then took the handle, untied and slipped off the doctor’s white cravat, and then turning his back, rolled the knife-haft tightly in its folds; while, wondering what was to follow, the horror-stricken captive began to groan dismally.

      “Now for it,” cried Bill sharply, seizing the bound and helpless man by the throat, when, fancying that his last hour had come, the doctor opened his mouth to cry out, when the knife-handle was thrust between his teeth, and the cravat tightly tied behind his head, keeping the gag securely in its place, and thoroughly robbing him of the power of even crying out.

      “Now t’other,” said Bill. “Get another knife out.”

      “Ah! he’s all right,” said Number 2. “I’d leave him.”

      “P’r’aps you would,” said Bill; “but we two don’t want to be blowed on, if you do.”

      “But he’s a-most dead now,” said Number 2; “and if you stop his mouth that way, I’m blessed if I don’t think he will be quite afore morning.”

      “And what then?” said Bill contemptuously; “what if he is? What’s the good of an old cove like him? Yah!”

      However, that part of the ceremony was left undone. The doctor heard the door close, open again, for the key to be dragged out of the lock and replaced in the other side; when once more the door was closed and double-locked. Then followed the sound as of a whispered dispute, and again silence, till it was broken by a faint scream from upstairs; while, with every nerve on the stretch, the doctor listened for the next movement, as, still somewhat confused in mind, he kept fancying that the stertorous breathing of his brother was that of one of the ruffians on guard at the door.

      An hour must have passed, during which time the doctor still fancied there was a man on guard, and dared not move, though at that time the three visitors were coolly taking their tickets of a sleepy porter, the only one of the railway company’s servants in charge of the station, and soon after they were being whirled