The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE MYE&TERIES OF LONDON. eyes accustomed to it. might be feltj—a darkness which seemed to touch and hang upon tho visual organs like n dense black mist. “Who is it?” demanded tho gepulchral voico of Old Death, his tone marked with a subdued ferocity and a sort of savage growling which seemed to denoto n rancorous hate and pent-up longings for bitter vengeance against the author or authors of his solitary imprisonment. ‘fam the person who keeps you here,” an- swered the Black, studying to adopt a voice even more foigned and unlike his natural tones than when he was ere now addressing Tidmarsh and the Bunces. Still that voice had in it some peculiarity which appeared to touch a chord that vibrated to the very core of Old Death’s heart’; for he evidently mado a starting movement, 2s he ‘said hoarsely and thickly, “But who are you—a spectro or a living being ? Tell me who you are!” “T am a living being like yourself,” was the reply, delivered in a voice disguised in deeper modulations than before. “ Are you afraid of being visited by spectres ?” There was a long pause, during which the deep silence was interrupted only by the heavy breath- ing of Old Death, as if the utter darkness of tho placo sate oppr casively upon him. “Are you afraid of spectres, I ask?” demanded tho Black, who was Jeaning with folded arms against the door, and with his cyes in the direction where he presumed Old Death to be seated; though not even the faintest outline of his form could he trace amidst that black obscurity. . “ Bring me a light, or let me out—and I will answer all your questions,” cried Benjamin Bones, his anxiety to obtain his freedom giving a cadence of carnest appeal to his voico in spite of the tre- mendous rage which his bosom cherished against the individual who had proclaimed himself to be his gaoler. ‘Do you deserve mercy ?—do you merit the in- dulgonce of man?” asked the Black, in a tone pro- foundly solemn. “What do you know of me ?—who are you ?— why did you have me brought here ?—and by what right do you keep mo in this infernal place?” de- manded Old Death, rapidly and savagely. “Ts it not a just retribution which makes you a prisoner in a subterranean whero you have often imprisoned others ?” said the Black. Then ’tis that miscreant Ellingham who has put me hero!” exclaimed Bones, in a tone which showed that he was quivering with rage. “ De- mon !—fiend!—yes—you are Lord Ellingham—I thought I know your voice, although you tried to disguise it. At the first moment I fancied—but that was stupid,—sfill it struck me that it was the voico of Tom Rain which spoke. Ha! ha!” the old wretch chuckled with horrible ferocity and savage glee—"I did for him—I did for him! I sent him to the scaffold—I got him hanged—and now he is food for worms! Ellingham—for I know you are Lord Ellingham—I can have the laugh at you, you devil, although you keep mehere !” ““Miserablo old man,” said the Black, in a tone of deep pity, though still disguised in modulation, —'are you insonsible to the whisperings of con- Ecienco ?” * Yes—now that you are here!” cried Benjamin Bones, his clothes rustling as if with the trembling It was a darkness that { nervousness of enraged excitement. LL LT a * You made mo sell you these houses — you tool them away from me by force, as it Were; and now you keep moa prisoner here. It is all through vengeance that you do it—ou who pretended to be above all thoughts or intentions of revenge!" As God is my judge, I harbour no such eenti- ment topyaneds you!” said tho Blackamoor, empha- tically. “ But will you converso tranquilly and calmly with me?” “ Well—I will try,” returned Old Death. do you w ant to say to me?” ‘To remind you that you are an old—very old man, and that you cannot hope to live much longer ee “Tiend! would you kill mo in cold blood !* in- ferrupted Bones, in a sort of shricking, yelling tono that indicated mingled alarm and rage. “Had I intended to slay you, I might have dono it when you wero first brought hero as my pri- soner,” answered the Black. ‘Test satisfied on that head “Then you do not mean to kill mo?” exclaimed Old Death, with all the hysterical joy of a coward soul, in spite of his natural and still untamed ferocity. ‘ Heaven forbid!” ejaculated the Blackamoor. “ There—now ‘tis tho voice of Tom Rain onco again !” cried Old Death, evidently shuddering as he spoke. ‘ But, no—I am a fool—you aro the Earl ! Yes—tell mée—aro you not the Earl of Lllingham 2?” “No matter who I am,” was tho solemn reply. “Tf you ¢ ask mo questions, I will immediately leavo you.” ‘‘No—don't go for a few minutes!” exclaimed Old Death, imploringly. “I have been hero a month,—yes—for I havo counted the visits of your men, who come, as they tell me, every night to bring me food,—and I know that I havo been here a month. In all that time I have only exchanged a dozen words with human beings—and—and— this solitude is horrible!" “You have leisure to ponder on all your crimes,” said the Black. “Who made you my judge?” demanded Old Death, with a return of his ferocity of tono and manner. “If you want me to confess all my sins, and will then set me free, I will do it,” he added in a somewhat ironical way. ‘Confession is useless, without true repentance," observed the Blackamoor. ‘* Besides, all your mis- deeds are known to me,—your behaviour to your half-sister, Octavia Manners, years ago—your treat- ment of poor Jacob Smith—your machinations ta destroy Thomas Rainford “ Then, by all this, am I convinced that you are the Earl of Ellingham !”’ cried Old Death. “Ah! my lord,” ho immediately added, in a voico which suddenly changed to a tone of carnest appeal, “do not keep me here ¢ any longer! Let me go—and I will leave London for ever! Reflect, my lord—I am an old man—a very old man,—you yoursclf said so just now,—and you aro killing mo by keop- ing mo here. Send mo out of the country—any- where you choose, however distant—and I will thank you: but again I say, do not keep me here.” ‘When the savago animal goes about preying upon tho weak and unwary, he-should be placed under restraint,” said the Blackamoor. ‘“ You ara not repentant, Benjamin Boues! A month have you been here—a month buve you beer allowed to “What al (C(O) JOO ZN i (SO)