A Little World

The clerks in the outer office suspended work as soon as the heavy door swung to, and began to give due attention to this strange visit, which was on all sides declared to be “a rum go,” when the door again opened, and Harry Clayton entered.

“Mr Pellet returned?” he asked.

“Been at the office again, sir; but he has just gone out with a lady. Said he would be back in an hour.”

“I’ll wait,” said Harry, and he sat for an hour, and then for another, but still Richard did not return, so he left, and slowly sauntered towards London Bridge.

“I don’t want to give him the opportunity of saying I avoided him,” thought Harry, and then his thoughts turned towards money matters, and the possibility of Richard being compelled to disgorge a portion of the money that should by rights have been Mrs Clayton’s son’s – he did not know that it was in his power to make him give up all. Then he began to wonder what sort of a reception he should meet with. The last encounter had been far from cordial, and since his mother’s funeral, Harry’s letters had been but few and far between.

“I will see him, though,” said Harry, “if I follow him for a week.”

Volume Three – Chapter Twenty.

Beating the Bars

“Now!” exclaimed Richard Pellet, as soon as he and his unwelcome visitor were in the cab, “will you wait patiently, if I take you somewhere, till I can place you where you will see your little one?”

She gazed long and earnestly in his face before answering.

“Will you keep your word?”

“I will!” he said, and she bent her head, when, lowering the front window, Richard gave fresh instructions to the driver, who drew up at the end of a long busy street.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, suddenly.

“Only where you can stay for a day or two,” said he, preparing to get out. “Sit still for a few minutes till I come back.”

“But you are going to leave me,” she cried, clinging to his arm.

“I tell you I will come back,” he exclaimed, angrily; and, apparently satisfied, she sank back in her seat.

Five – ten minutes elapsed, but the occupant of the cab did not stir. At the end of another five minutes, Richard returned, panting and out of breath, spoke to the driver again, and once more the cab jangled over the stones and drew up at a half-open door.

Richard sprang up and took tight hold of his companion’s arm, but she followed him with alacrity, only starting back as the street-door closed behind her, when she found herself in the presence of Mrs Walls and in her old gaol.

Richard turned to leave, but the cheated woman turned with him, clinging to him tightly, and imploring him not to leave her there in the most piteous manner. He tried to shake her off; he swung her to and fro; he loosened one hand, but only for the other to cling to him more tightly, till, enraged by her persistence, and unable to govern the vile passions that she had roused, he struck her heavily with his clenched fist, so that she fell back half stunned and with a thin stream of blood flowing from her lip.

“Why, you great brute – you cowardly ruffian!” exclaimed Mrs Walls, who had some feeling of compassion yet for the suffering member of her sex. “That wasn’t bargained for.”

“Hold your tongue!” cried Richard, fiercely. “Keep to your engagement, and let her loose this time, and you shall suffer for it, even if I do myself. There is law, recollect, for such as you.”

“I’d suffer it for two pins, so as you should be pulled down too,” muttered the woman, as she wiped the blood from the prisoner’s lips, and then with a scowl Richard turned to go.

“I shall be back in three days at the latest,” he said. Then he paid and dismissed the cabman, walked hastily through a few streets, and then took another cab and drove off.

“Gone!” exclaimed Ellen Pellet, opening her eyes to gaze about her in an anxious manner as she tried to make for the door.

Mrs Walls nodded, and then half led, half pushed her into a back parlour.

“He’ll be back in two days, and then you’re going away from here, and for good, and I’m glad of it,” said the woman, not unkindly, considering that but a day since her prisoner had contrived to escape. “I don’t want you here any more.”

“To take me to her?”

“To be sure,” said Mrs Walls, as she would have spoken to a child. The next minute the door was closed, and the key turned upon the prisoner, who sank down upon a chair, and pressed her hands in a bewildered way to her forehead.

She sat without moving for an hour, and then began to pace round and round the room to find, after trying door and window, that the former was fast and the latter only slid down a few inches at the top, the bottom being of ground-glass, and preventing a view of the outer world unless the occupant of the room stood upon a chair; and even then only the backs of houses and a blackened wall or two were to be seen.

Escape now seemed to be the sole idea in the poor creature’s mind. She recalled in a darkened way a long period of imprisonment, and evidently dreaded its recurrence, for again and again she tried the door, shaking it gently, but it was locked, though the key remained in, so that she could touch the end as it projected about the sixteenth of an inch through the keyhole.

Another hour passed, and another, of torture and dread of treachery.

Could she not get away to her little one? That was the great thought which crushed all others; and as if determining to escape, she began to try with her nails to turn the key, repeating her efforts till the wards hung downward. Then, by means of a wooden splint, one of a dozen upon the chimney-piece, she thrust the key nearly out of the keyhole, where it hung while she listened attentively, then, with one more gentle push, it fell rattling down upon the oilcloth of the passage.

She stood listening, her bosom heaving painfully, but no steps followed the noise – it was evidently not heard, and, sinking upon her knees, she tore up the edge of the tacked-down carpet, till she could pass her worn and bony fingers beneath, and drag it away from the door, leaving the bottom exposed.

There, beneath the door, was the key plainly to be seen, for the light from a staircase window fell upon it; but it was out of reach, and the aperture would not allow the passage of her fingers. She knelt there though, biting her nails for a minute and listening, before taking up the splint that before had been her friend.

She tried to reach the key, passing the splint beneath the door, but it was not long enough. She took another – sane enough now in her desire to escape – and tearing a strip from her handkerchief, bound two splints tightly together, and tried again.

Yes; they would pass under easily, and she could touch the key and move it. She could hear it glide along the oilcloth for some distance in one direction; so she tried from the other side, and moved it back.

Forwards and backwards she moved that key a score of times, indefatigable in her efforts; but it would come no nearer, for there was an inequality over which it would not pass – the floorcloth at that spot was doubled.

Suddenly she stopped, for she heard steps upon the stairs, and Mrs Walls came by, her dress brushing against the key and slightly altering its position. Then once more all was silent; she had passed by without noticing that it was out of the door, and nothing was heard but the faint sound of the traffic in the street.

The splints again at work – this way, that way, but no sound of grating key upon the oilcloth, and after many trials, the prisoner laid her head upon the floor, and tried to catch sight of the object of her search.

There it was: just the ring visible, but beyond the reach of the splints, for it had been swept along a few inches by the dress. But three splints might do it: so another was tied to the others, and once more the trial was made.

Joy! They touched the key; but they bent and would hardly stir it from the weakness of the wood.

What should she do? How could she get out? Why did she allow herself to be trapped when it seemed to her troubled brain that her little one was calling! But if she stayed, would he let her see her child? Had not he said – had not the tailor said – it was dead. It was a lie – a cruel lie – it could not be dead. They had hidden it away from her where she was never to see it more.

With these thoughts exciting the crushed and patient sufferer, she paced round and round the room, to pause, at last, to tear at the screws that held the lock to her prison door, and only to leave off with bleeding fingers.

A new thought, and she darted to the window, tore down the red worsted blind-cord, and ran back to the door. Down upon her knees with the stiff cord doubled, and a great loop thrust gently under to try and draw the key towards her.

Now it caught, drew it a little way, let it slip, and came through alone; now it thrust it back when the cord was again pushed through. Another trial, and the cord caught, the key grating over the oilcloth, but only to be checked once more by the double fold and lost.

Disappointment upon disappointment, and a great dread upon her mind that her gaoler would return, find out her attempt to escape, and defeat it by bearing away the key.

Another trial, and another, and another, and once more the key caught against that double in the oilcloth; but now a vigorous snatch and it had fallen over it and close to the door, and though the cord came through without, she could now plainly see the wards of the key – touch them with one of the splints – draw them towards her – touch them with a finger – hold the key in her hand – and be at liberty once more.

Her heart beat with excitement, and then seemed to come to a dead stop, for as she stood where she had leaped to her feet, there came once again the sound of footsteps, now descending, and the steps were stayed by the door, where it was evident that some one was listening.

Beat – beat – beat – beat – again her heart throbbed wildly for a few moments. Then again, heavy pulsations that seemed as if they would make her head split with each agonising pang. Then once more her heart seemed to stop.

Would whoever was listening there see that the key was gone, and ask for it? Would she be compelled to give it up, or would they keep watch at the door to see that she did not escape?