LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2635, 16 September 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

TWELVE OUNCES OF BLOOD.

A summer dawn was creeping oyer smokeclouded Loudon and lending an unusual beauty to those quarters most ea>ily beautified •; old Father Thames looked laughing and radiant as he glided past the sombre wharves A'few gleams of this early light, struggling through the nastiness of a narrow and unwholesome riverside street, found their way into a small, close, and altogether undesirable bedroom. They fell npon the figure of an old man, who, editing up In his bed, hU -straggling white looks falling dishevelled npon his fsce, appeared to be listening -intently. Perfectly motionless, scarcely breathing, he sit and listened to certain faint and only just perceptible sounds which appeared to come from the room below the one he occupied. Suddenly—yet quite quietly—‘he - slipped his bare feet on to the floor, and creeping acr ss it, essayed to open hi 3 bedroom door soundlessly. He was not successful in this. The ill-oonstinoted and uno led hinges emitted soma distressing noises. He emerged upon a small dark landing, npon which two other doors opened. He looked at both ; .they were shut. Moving with the utmost caution, ha opened one door after the o her, each a little way, and peeped in. In-each room he saw a slumbering form lying upon a-narrow and unattractive bed. Apparently satisfied so far, he then proceeded to creep down the little dark stairs. At their foot he opened a door and admitted himself into a small and gloomy shop. The morning rays could not yet penetrate so low in the marrow street as to light this unpleasant little dungeon. Nothing was clearly discernible, but all the same the old man knew where each article lay. This place had been his world for some forty years, and he was-not likely to make a mis--1 take if he were-b Indfolded, He proceeded 1 straight to the. counter, and quickly put his . hand, unerringly,-upon the till. It was an- - locked! He opened it, and one touch within was -enough, to tell him all. Of 1 course 1 how couldhe expect anything elie. ’ Hla ear eonld 'never have deceived him. In 1 hla dreams he had- distinctly heard the lock p picked—the chink of money being extracted from its hiding place had entered his slum--1 boding ear. And waking, as from a night--1 mare, the scare Audible movements underneath his room had-told him that hla dream was reality. 1 The thing was old to him now. He had expected it for -some ten years, and now It had come. He was insane enough to keep a roll of his precious hoarded bank-notes there —fool 1 Why had he not obeyed, his many doubts, and hidden -them in some more ounnlng place 7 But he did not pause to ourse bis folly or bemoan his. loss. He uttered no exclamation. ;He quietly shut 1 the till down, and then looked .at the 1 windows and door. All was right there. * ’TIs Jacob then, -as I -knew it would be ; well, I’ll undo him yet;’ he said to himself, ' as he turned and proceeded with the same quiet caution to find bis .way in the dim light . upstairs again. He went straight to the door of one of the bedrooms that be. had before peeped into ; entering, he with . some difficulty secured the door behind him and looked round the room. It was a meagre enough place as to its general aspect, hut it contained a few articles almost out of keeping with It. The slanting sum-ays-fell upon a very miserable dressing-table and revealed some rather luxurious toilette requirements which lay npon It, The old man poked about among these, Be then opened .a travelling trunk which stood near, and felt cantionsly among Its contents. 4 Holloa, nnole I’ remarked a wide-awake voice from the bed, just as the old man *had about finished his Inspection ; 4 what are you after f‘ He rose from his stooping position, threw back his gray looks, and looked round .with, a sudden -age rising in bis eyes. ‘Jacob,’ he cried, ‘you have robbed the: till!’ The came forth like a burning and, terrible accusation, but the only reply to; them was a prolonged laugh, hearty enough, i though with a peculiar snigger In it. When i it was over, the voice again came from the bad—- * Why, nnole, don't you know mo yet ? As , if I’d be such. a fool as to rob your precious till 1 I should expect yon to find me ont it I ran to the other end of the world, and hang me with your own hands. Besides, it wouldn’t be worth my while. It’s one of those street urchins that are always hanging round the shop, because they think you’re a millionaire Iho e you’ll catch him, only don’t wake me again.’ And the speaker tossed himself over, rolled himself up in the bed-clothes, and soon began to. snore, .leaving the old man full opportunity to continue his searsh If he chose. But he did not. choose. He was convinced by Jacob’s words, and the thoughts they gave rise to fa bis mind, that the money was not to,be found here. So ha turned to the door thinking to go down and examine the shop again. Bat an idea struck him as he approached I the landing. He stood irresolute upon it a moment, and then, very quietly, opened the door and entered. 4 lt couldn’t be Tim,’ he .said, apologetically, in a woisper, as .he closed the door behind him, 4 but I’d best look r round every.whore.’ He stepped towards the bed first, and saw there a slumbering young man, flushed and breathing heavily. He moved abont-Eneasily from.tide to side. The old man watched him for a .few moments, and was about to turn away and examine the room, when,he was arrested by a half-waking movement of the sleeper. He stirred in a disturbed way, and then drawing his hand from under .the clothes, thrust it out, and, extending.it, let fall a handful of money on the floor. Tba old man rushed towards the bed, and dragging the clothes away, beheld bank-notes, I gold, silver, and copper, all lying around the i youth's limbs, while clutched in one hand: was a tool for lock-picking. This Tim flung after the scattered money on the floor; and then, probably aronsod by the cold air which was chilling him, opened his eyes suddenly. He reviewed the scene before him for a few seconds; and, struck by the look in his .uncle’s face, opened bis month to speak. He was extremely bewildered, and failed to articulate anything, so he sank npon the pillow again; * And is it you,’ cried the old man; *yon, my bey Tim, that has robbed me ? Fool! FoolJ You would have had all my money— I meant yon to be a gentleman, hut never a penny shell you have now. And yon have lost it all for these few bank notes. Ourse you—to pay me back this way for all I’ve done for you—kept you in idleness and let you do as you liked, and be as lazy a hound as you wanted to be— and this ig my re ward,’

The old man trembled with passion, and bis voice had risen to a soream. All the while ha was gathering up the_ money from the bed with shaking fingers. Tim meantime had once or twice tried to articulate, but he was bo confused that it seemed probable he had not gone to bed quite sober. At last he succeeded in bricging out the words — * I didn’t do it ! ’

1 Didn’t do it ? ’ echoed the old man, with the bitterest contempt in his voice, 1 My Gcd ! What lies you will tell me ? Am I not to believe my own eyes ? ’ Uo had gathered up all the money he could 8«e, and holding it in his traabiing hands, he left the room, kicking tho doer to behind him. He went into his own room and hnrrie- ly threw on some clothes. '1 hen he quickly went downstairs, looking the door at the foot of the stairs and putting the key ia his pocket. Ho opened the shop door and emergt d into the now suelit s;reet. Meantime Tim sprang out of bed, and tried to clear bis head by plunging his face in water. Bbt he was not much better after the process than before It, and he stood disconsolately in the midst of tho room, mopping his wet hair. Presently his eye fell upon something. A bottle of particularly nice brandy, which he knew was the property of his brother Jacob, stood temptingly upon a■( able olose by. Fora moment he merely wondeiod how It came there, the next ho wondered whether a little drop would make him feel better. And tho next he was in the act of drinking off a good stiff glassful of brandy and water, unaware that an eye was fixed upon him through a crack in the door. Jacob, when his uncle had safely looked the street door, bad leaped ont of bed and applied his eye to tho ocaok. When he saw how Tim was employed he returned to his bed, saying, as he composed himeelf once more, ‘ Just as I expected.’ In about a quarter of an hoar tho streetdoor was cautiously unlocked, and then the one at the foot of the stairs A moment after Tim’s door was pushed open, and the old man entered the room, followed by two stalwart policemen. • There he is,’ he cried, In a voice still tremulous with excitement. ’ Jim was new lying on his bed again, fast asleep, and breathing atertorionaly. The policemen grinned as they approached him. ’The chap’s drank,’ said one. • Take him, ’ cried the uncle, furiously, ‘don’t deay.’ ‘ He muse have been clever to pick a leek in this sta’e,’ said the other. 1 Bah ! cried the old man, 1 can’t you see the brandy P He’s drunk himself foolish since to drown bla wickedness,’ ‘Like enough.' said policeman No, 1; • anyway, the look’s picked.’ So they pulled him np, and with difficulty made him wake sufficiently to walk between them. He appeared too stupefied to realise his position, and so was taken quietly away. Only, when they reached the street, he shook the men off and tried to run away. They raised the cry of 1 Stop thief!’ and soon caught him ; while half the neighborhood either came oat of doors or hang oat of windows ia scant morning attire, to see, much to their surprise, young Tim Turner oaughs by two policemen, handcuffed, and led away. Cariosity acd conjecture ran high and raged around. •Well,’ cried one slipshod matron to another, across the narrow street; * I ain't surprised; idleness leads to wickedness; and that ol 1 man’s been a fool to spoil the young man so.’ The street soon after went about its ordinary business, for there was nothing more to be seen. The next phase of this history need not be dwelt upon; for we get a sufficiently disagreeable daily dish of police reports to know all about how suoh things are managed. The evidenoe was conclusive, and Tim got lix months’ hard labour. He made ■eviral speeches, which had no effect bat that of causing unseemly laughter in the oouit. He pointed out that he was entirely incapable of doing anything whatever on that night, in consequence of various ‘ treats’ of whioh ha had partaken on the previous evening He made several similar observations, bat finding he carried no weight sub a ded into a sullen silence, clenching his hands as they lay upon his knees, with a suppressed savagenees that was new in him. He performed his punishment, and came out of prison, looking healthier than when he went in ; but with a sallenness in his faoe that took the plaoe of a pletsant joviality whioh used to make him a favourite. He wandered back Into his old haunts, bathe did not find an y welcome. Those who had known his undo as well as himself regarded him in the light of a hopeless ingrate and criminal 5 while the friends who had been choeen after hia own heart, in the old jolly days, did not much care to resume the aoqoaintsncn when they saw how the jatl-bird carried the .mark of the prison in bis face. He was soon sufficiently conscious of the fact that life was a different thing lor him now. He succeeded in finding oat that his old ancle had died not many weeks .after his Imprisonment, and that bis brother Jamb, who, it appeared, had been made the heir, bad shut np the little shop, and was only to be seen in that dismal neighborhood now and then. Be haunted the street where the old . shop stood from that time. He lived somehow, by the doing of odd jobs, for he could get no regular work where he was known, and yet he seemed to have some fascination for the , place. The little street urchins soon grew accustomed to see him skulking in the dark corners ronnd the shop of an evening, and gave up taunting him ; while the sage elders would shake their beads and avow their conviction that he was after no good Tim was a brawny, handsome fellow, and if he had .not learned to slouch and skulk would have looked manly enough even in the tattered garments which were now his only ones. He throve in 410 ms mysterious way upon the : scant, irregular food he obtained, and grew ■ more sturdily muscular than of old, Fos- • slbly this might be owing to his general : Inability to obtain stimulants. He was oon- ; tlnoally sober now, from grim necessity. i At last, one evening, as Tim stood idly in a ; dark corner opposite the closed shop, he gave A start, and a terrible look cams over his face. Stepping daintily down the street came • a slight and dapper figure, apparently that of a gentleman and a dandy. What an nnnsnal sight in this dirty street.; enrely Tim could have no interest in this apparition beyond mere, cariosity P Tet Tim trembled a little with the sudden excitement, for something in the gait of this gentleman was familiar to him. He felt certain that ths fastidiously, picked footsteps down the street would pause at the door of the little old shop, and he was not mistaken. Hastily he stepped across; and, just as the gentleman bad inserted the key, presented himself at his side. But he was not noticed till, the door open, the man turned a little as ho entered, and his eyes fell npon Tim’s face. And Tim s&w, as he suspected, the familiar features of his brother Jaoob Familiar, yet unfamiliar. They had changed, in many ways, most conipionouily by that of ill health. Jaoob had always been a weakling, and was physically about half the size of bis brother Tim; but now his face showed signs of positive sickness. The two men contrasted oddly under the circumstances ; Tim, the jail bird, just out of prison, looked a muscular hero by the side of his brother, who had evidently been living in luxury while Time suffered. •Jaoob,' remarked Tim, after they had looked at each other in silence for a second or two, ‘ you are a devil.’ Jaoob stepped Inside the door, so as to be able to shat It quickly if he wanted to; and he drew himself up to the utmost of his small statue, and smiled at Tim. * And have you really coma here to tell me that ?’ was all the reply. • Yon did it,’ said Tim, his indignation suddenly rising to boiling point; • I bad time to think in that nice place you got me Jnto, and I saw It all I knew yon did it yourself, just to make the old man leave yon all my money !’ ‘iieally,’ said Jacob, ‘you are getting clever. 1 thought my trick had been too simple even for yon to find ont—and yet yon’re done ft! 1 congratulate you. Good night.’ So saying, he quickly ahnt and barred the door.

Tim had not had the wit to intercept him in time, and so ha was left outside, impotent j all hia blood at fever heat, the veins swelling on his temples, his hands clenched fiercely, and his heart heaving tumultuously within him Ue waited and waited outside that door, hut though he lingered there all through the night and on into the next day. It was useless. IKb Jacob came out; and at last Tim came to the reluctant conclusion that once more Jacob had Outwitted him and had escaped unhurt, ITo 16 continued,)