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
Hitherto I had implicitly obeyed Job; it was now my turn to command.
"Look you," said I, calmly, but sternly, "I have come into this house
under your guidance solely, to procure the evidence of that man; the
evidence he has, as yet, given may not be worth a straw; and, since I
have ventured among the knives of your associates, it shall be for some
purpose. I tell you fairly that, whether you befriend or betray me, I
will either leave these walls with Dawson, or remain in them a corpse."
"You are a bold blade, Sir," said Jonson, who seemed rather to respect
than resent the determination of my tone, "and we will see what can be
done: wait here, your honour, while I go down to see if the boys are gone
to bed, and the coast is clear."
Job descended, and I re-entered Dawson's room. When I told him that we
were resolved, if possible, to effect his escape, nothing could exceed
his transport and gratitude; this was, indeed, expressed in so mean and
servile a manner, mixed with so many petty threats of vengeance against
Thornton, that I could scarcely conceal my disgust.
Jonson returned, and beckoned me out of the room.
"They are all in bed, Sir," said he--"Bess as well as the rest; indeed,
the old girl has lushed so well at the bingo, that she sleeps as if her
next morrow was the day of judgment. I have, also, seen that the street
door is still unbarred, so that, upon the whole, we have, perhaps, as
good a chance to-night as we may ever have again. All my fear is about
that cowardly lubber. I have left both Bess's doors wide open, so we have
nothing to do but to creep through; as for me, I am an old file, and
could steal my way through a sick man's room, like a sunbeam through a
keyhole."
"Well," said I, in the same strain, "I am no elephant, and my dancing
master used to tell me I might tread on a butterfly's wing without
brushing off a tint: poor Coulon! he little thought of the use his
lessons would be to me hereafter!--so let us be quick, Master Job."
"Stop," said Jonson; "I have yet a ceremony to perform with our caged
bird. I must put a fresh gag on his mouth; for though, if he escapes, I
must leave England, perhaps, for ever, for fear of the jolly boys, and,
therefore, care not what he blabs about me; yet there are a few fine
fellows amongst the club whom I would not have hurt for the Indies; so I
shall make Master Dawson take our last oath--the Devil himself would not
break that, I think! Your honour will stay outside the door, for we can
have no witness while it is administered."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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