Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

® ig could judge by the tone in which 86 _ . JOSEPH WILMOT:; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. “ And if I could recollect it now ?” I said with some degree of eagerness. “Tf even at the latest moment, before the noose tightens round your throat, your tongue can give utterance to that pass-word, you will be safe— and you will be regarded as that whieh you re- present yourself. For in this case,” continued Philippo, “the proper formalities would be ful- filled; and we should be inclined to look over the circumstance of your being in companionship with another. Indeed, if you thus ‘far set yourself right with us, it would be well nigh sufficient to convince us that you had spoken truthfully when denying that you had a companion; and mo over, that instead of a treacherous falsehood ex- isting om your side, it is aa error which lies upon our’s.” “If I recollect the pass-word, all will be well!” I exclaimed: and there was hope yet in my heart. But whence sprang that hope? It was from the fact that Angelo Volterra, while affecting to sip his wine with an easy nonchalance, darted upon me a significant glance,—a glance that was as rapid and brief as the twinkling of an eye, and yet sufficiently intelligible for me. It seemed to afiord me encouragement: it forbade me from yielding myself altogether up to despair. * Come !” exciaimed Philippo fiercely: “ all this bandying of words is merely to gain time—but uselessly; for it is out of question that you will recollees a pass-word which you evidently never knew.’’y, He then spoke a few words in Italian to Marco Uberti, who thereupon made a sign; and my arms were clutehed by the strong hands of three or fou of the banditti. Angelo Volterra at that instant sprang up from his seat; and with an assumed air of savage jocularity, he said something in his own native tengue to the banditti—whereat they all laughed, * Our comrade here,” observed Philippo, turning to fhe with a malignant expression of countenance —but it was to Volterra that he alluded,—‘“ has been in your native country; and he has seen how a noose is tied hy youngbangmen--whas do you call him ?” “ Jack Ketch, to be sure!” exclarmed Volterra, speaking in English: and turnmg upon me with a fierce aspect, he added im «accents which seemed to be full of ferocious menace, “ Detestable spy that you ‘are! my own hands shall reeye you a noose as cunning as that which the Jack Ketch of your native land is wont to manipulate for his victims.” A stout cord tas produced; Volterra took it— and quick as lightning his glancing eyes signified to me that I was to go down upon my knees, I did so: for I comprehended full well that he was working in my interest. Scornful expressions, as ney were ub- _ tered, burst from the lips of Marco Uberti and his yrmidons ; and Philippo said to me in a taunt- voice, “Ah! now the courage which hitherto Ts sustained _you is failing at the sight of the cord!” _. Meanwhile Volterra had formed a noose; and as I knelt upon the floor, with my hands clasped _and my looks bent down, he stooped to adjust it ‘round my neck. ‘The ruffians who a minute back were. holding me in their powerful grasp, had % te iy 2 ee Ei a I pars ee ee ee withdrawn their hands when I sank down to my knees : for they were well a8sured that I could not escape from them. Yolterra placed the running noose, as I have said, round my a he adjusted the knot under the left ear—he stooped lower still as if to convince himself that it was properly placed—at that yery instant some brutal jest from Marco Uberti’s lips raised a loud guffaw on the part of the banditti—and under the cover of that coarse din, Volterra rapidly whispered a word in v ear. “The next instant he drew back ; and it was evi- dent to me that he had so much faith in my pre- - | sence of mind, my discretion, and my shrewdness, to be well aware that I should not at once pro- claim the pass-word and thus raise the suspicion that he might have whispered it—but that I should let matters progress a little further, and then appear to be all in a moment inspired with the recollection of the word that was to save me. Again was I seized upon by the banditti: they hurried me towards the door,—the cord dangling from my neck, Down the staircase we went—out into the open air: Marco Uberti, Volterra, Phi- lippo,— every one indeed who was ere now in the banqueting-room, accompanied me on my way to the nearest tree, to which it was intended to hang me up. age the bough of a huge tree was I made to stop short: the rope was tossed over it— two or three of the ruffians caught hold of the ex- tremity in order to drag me up when I sud- ee the word, “ Fabiano !/” ose who had just clutched the end of the cord dropped it in astonishment from their hands : ejaculations of surprise burst from the lips of Marco Uberti and some others:—then there was a hasty consultation amongst them—but I was not kept many moments in suspense—for Philippo said, “It is well! we are satisfied. But, by heaven! never was man so nearly suffering for the shortness of his memory !” ‘When @ man looks death in the face,” T an- swered, “itis a spectacle suflicient to startle up whatsoever slumbering recollection might possibly save him.” , “Come!” said Philippo; “as I helped to hurry you on towards the doom you've so narrowly es- caped, the least I can do is to divest you of this uncomfortable neckcloth.” Hereupon he slipped off the rope; and now Marco Uberti shook my hand with a rough cor- diality. We returned to the banqueting room: wine was proffered me—and I gladly accepted it ; for, as the reader may suppose, I stood in need of such refreshment after the exciting, trying, peril- ous scenes through which I had been hurried. “ And now what are your wishes ?” said Philippo tome. “Repeat them—and we are in readiness to fulfil them.” 2... “ Have the goodness,” I answered, “ to let the horsés be put to the travelling-carriage—restore the prisoners to liberty—and afford me an oppor- tunity of slipping the money which I have brought, into the hand of Sir Matthew Hesel- tine,” “ But there are no postilions for the horses,” re- plied Philippo. - “Sir Matthew Heseltine’s valet,” I rejoined, | “vill doubtless be only too glad to act in the capacity of postilion, when it is to convey the CORNICE TOO KS eeO im