Pelham — Volume 08Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Pelham — Volume 08
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Adventure stories; English fiction -- 19th century; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
"You have convinced me," said I; "and now, before we start, let me say
one word further respecting our object. I tell you, fairly, that I think
Dawson's written deposition but a secondary point; and, for this reason,
should it not be supported by any circumstantial or local evidence,
hereafter to be ascertained, it may be quite insufficient fully to acquit
Glanville (in spite of all appearances), and criminate the real
murderers. If, therefore, it be possible to carry off Dawson, after
having secured his confession, we must. I think it right to insist more
particularly on this point, as you appeared to me rather averse to it
this morning."
"I say ditto to your honour," returned Job; "and you may be sure that I
shall do all in my power to effect your object, not only from that love
of virtue which is implanted in my mind, when no stronger inducement
leads me astray, but from the more worldly reminiscence, that the annuity
we have agreed upon is only to be given in case of success--not merely
for well meaning attempts. To say that I have no objection to the release
of Dawson, would be to deceive your honour; I own that I have; and the
objection is, first, my fear lest he should peach respecting other
affairs besides the murder of Sir John Tyrrell; and, secondly, my
scruples as to appearing to interfere with his escape. Both of these
chances expose me to great danger; however, one does not get three
hundred a year for washing one's hands, and I must balance the one by the
other."
"You are a sensible man, Mr. Job," said I; "and I am sure you will richly
earn, and long enjoy your annuity."
As I said this, the watchman beneath our window, called "past eleven,"
and Jonson, starting up, hastily changed his own gay gear for a more
simple dress, and throwing over all a Scotch plaid, gave me a similar
one, in which I closely wrapped myself. We descended the stairs softly,
and Jonson let us out into the street, by the "open sesame" of a key,
which he retained about his person.
CHAPTER LXXXII.
Et cantare pares, et respondere parati.
--Virgil.
As we walked on into Tottenham-court-road, where we expected to find a
hackney-coach, my companion earnestly and strenuously impressed on my
mind, the necessity of implicitly obeying any instructions or hints he
might give me in the course of our adventure. "Remember," said he,
forcibly, "that the least deviation from them, will not only defeat our
object of removing Dawson, but even expose our lives to the most imminent
peril." I faithfully promised to conform to the minutest tittle of his
instructions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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