Pelham — Volume 07Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Pelham — Volume 07
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Adventure stories; English fiction -- 19th century; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
"It was not till the next day that I missed the picture. I returned to
the spot; searched it carefully, but in vain; the miniature could not be
found: I returned to town, and shortly afterwards the newspapers informed
me of what had subsequently occurred. I saw, with dismay, that all
appearances pointed to me as the criminal, and that the officers of
justice were at that moment tracing the clew which my cloak and the color
of my horse afforded them. My mysterious pursuit of Tyrrell, the disguise
I had assumed, the circumstance of my passing you on the road and of my
flight when you approached, all spoke volumes against me. A stronger
evidence yet remained, and it was reserved for Thornton to indicate it;
at this moment my life is in his hands. Shortly after my return to town,
he forced his way into my room, shut the door, bolted it, and, the moment
we were alone, said, with a savage and fiendish grin of exultation and
defiance, 'Sir Reginald Glanville, you have many a time and oft insulted
me with your pride, and more with your gifts: now it is my time to insult
and triumph over you; know that one word of mine could sentence you to
the gibbet.'
"He then minutely summed up the evidence against me, and drew from his
pocket the threatening letter I had last written to Tyrrell. You remember
that therein I said my vengeance was sworn against him, and that, sooner
or later, it should overtake him. 'Couple,' said Thornton, coldly, as he
replaced the letter in his pocket,--'couple these words with the evidence
already against you, and I would not buy your life at a farthing's
value.'
"How Thornton came by this paper, so important to my safety, I know not:
but when he read it I was startled by the danger it brought upon me; one
glance sufficed to show me that I was utterly at the mercy of the villain
who stood before me; he saw and enjoyed my struggles.
"'Now,' said he, 'we know each other: at present I want a thousand
pounds; you will not refuse it me, I am sure; when it is gone, I shall
call again; till then you can do without me.' I flung him a check for the
money, and he departed.
"You may conceive the mortification I endured in this sacrifice of pride
to prudence; but those were no ordinary motives which induced me to
submit to it. Fast approaching to the grave, it mattered to me but little
whether a violent death should shorten a life to which a limit was
already set, and which I was far from being anxious to retain: but I
could not endure the thought of bringing upon my mother and my sister the
wretchedness and shame which the mere suspicion of a crime so enormous
would occasion them; and when my eye caught all the circumstances arrayed
against me, my pride seemed to suffer a less mortification even in the
course I adopted than in the thought of the felon's gaol and the
criminal's trial,--the hoots and execrations of the mob, and the death
and ignominious remembrance of the murderer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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