The Black Box 15

The Black Box 15

"Ah, and what kind of man is he?"

 

"A great big lusty fellow, over six feet high. I owe him much, and will

repay it. Yea, verily, his days are numbered."

 

"See thou to that. ’Tis no concern of mine. I have no quarrel with the

son. But the old man, the father, Ammon" (here he lowered his voice

into an ugly whisper), "he who robbed me--str-r-uck me down--I would

have vengeance on that man. Yea, I would have him swept from off the

earth. Canst do it?"

 

"Yes, easily."

 

"How, then? By pistol, bullet, or by knife?"

 

"Neither. I have a softer way than those, though no less sure."

 

"What’s that?"

 

"Why, look you," answered Ammon, after fumbling in his coat, "see

here--this tiny bow and arrows; things for boys to play with, say you?

And yet a prick from one of them would kill the strongest man within an

hour. Naught could save him, for they are dipped in deadliest poison."

 

"No, no! away with them! away with them!" cried Ferguson. "I could not

think of it. ’Twere cruel, heathenish, nay, worse, ’twere rankly

wicked!"

 

"Then, verily, our sense of wickedness is far from tallying, friend,"

sneered Ammon. "Killing is killing, as it seems to me, and the way of

doing it makes little difference."

 

"Yes, but poison, friend, poison, I say, were cruel, heathenish; any way

but that!"

 

"Well, we will leave the way, then. You want this man, this Gilbert

Fane--well, let us say, removing. Is that so?"

 

"Yes; for not only do I hate him, but I also fear him somewhat."

 

"And you would have me do it for you?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then I will do it--at a price."

 

"Price!" snapped Ferguson. "Oh, thou grasping, greedy fellow. Doth not

the hundred guineas cover this small extra service also?"

 

"Nay, by life it doth not," answered Ammon slowly. "One bargain doth not

drive a second."

 

"Well, well," groaned Ferguson. "What is your price, then? Name it."

 

"Ten guineas."

 

"What!" almost shrieked the chaplain. "Ten guineas just to kill a man?"

 

"Yes, and a low price too. I run great risk in doing it."

 

"Oh, thou extortioner! thou greedy leech! But, come, ’tis surely but a

jest. Say five and I am with thee."

 

"Ten guineas."

 

"Eight."

 

"Ten."

 

"No, no! I will not pay a sum so wicked."

 

"Then Gilbert Fane lives on for all I care, and with him, as you just

now showed, your fear and hatred of the man."

 

"O Lord!" sighed Ferguson, "when will this cruel bleeding of me cease?

Right well hast thou been named, thou godless, grasping Jew; for was not

Tubal one of Shylock’s friends? But, say, if I agree with thee, when

wilt thou wipe this fellow off the earth? The Duke rides forth from

Lyme within a day or two, and I would be assured that Gilbert Fane is

dead before I leave. What, then?"

 

"He shall be dead before this time to-morrow," answered Tubal Ammon

firmly.

 

"But what proof shall I have that it is so?"

 

"Good proof, sure proof, a proof there can be no gainsaying."

 

"Name it, then."

 

"The key that fits that box," replied the other slowly. "It hangs by a

ribbon round his neck. I saw it as I watched him through the window.

That will I bring as proof."

 

"Enough, then; ’tis a bargain. Bring me that key and I will pay thy

cruel, wicked price. And now let me away before I am clean ruined."

 

Here both men rose; but now it was my turn. Throughout their foul

plotting my blood had risen pell-mell, till now, with the dastardly

completion of their bargain, ’twas surging through me like a burning

flood, which drowned all power of reasoning, and seemed to make me

someone that I knew not. ’Twas wildly, madly planned, I know--nay,

’twas not planned at all. I had done better to have crept up to the

ridge and tried to shoot them thence without their knowing it. I had

done ten times better still, to have used the knowledge I had gained to

save my father and gone off silently, leaving those thrice-accursed

fellows in their ignorance. I see that clearly now. But then the power

to reason, plan, nay, even think, had clean forsaken me; while as for

caution, danger, fear--I knew them not. One fierce, ungovernable wish

was mine--namely, to kill these would-be murderers of my father and

regain the box.

 

Drawing a pistol from my belt I rose suddenly and sprang upon the ridge.

Ferguson had just picked up the lantern, but now he flung it far away,

and uttering one loud, whelping cry of terror, fled off--with both hands

raised above his head--into the night. I took a flying shot at him, but

all in vain, for he had vanished ere I pulled the trigger.

 

’Twas far different with Tubal Ammon; snatching up his money-bags he

leapt back with a ringing oath, and there I could just make him out, a

dim, black, post-like blotch amid the darkness. In haste I whipped the

other pistol from my belt.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER VIII*

 

*A Fight for Life*

 

 

Click!--click! went both our pistol locks together, and, an instant

later, two shots rang out as one. Nor was there much to choose between

the aims. Tubal Ammon’s bullet grazed my right side beneath the

arm-pit; while mine went smash into his money-bag, and ripping it,

brought forth a stream of coins which jingled thick and fast upon the

ground. Had it not been for this protection, it had most surely been a

stream of blood instead, for he had held the bag pressed tightly to his

side. Strange that gold should save the life of one who had but just

been bartering life for gold!

 

Again, had it not been for that wild, chancy shot at Ferguson I might

have had friend Tubal now, for, instead of fleeing, he dropped straight

down and grovelled in the gold, filling his pockets with it while he

muttered oaths and curses terrible to hear. Doubtless greed held him as

its own just then, for though my second pistol had been fired, he must

have known he ran great risk; and indeed I might have got him with my

sword before he could have saved himself. But the truth is, that the

pistol flashes had discovered that which for the nonce made Tubal Ammon

seem of small account. The Black Box, bound with cord, lay there

straight below me on the turf, dropped or for gotten, as I judged it, by

the chaplain in his terror-stricken flight.

 

Down I jumped into the hollow, and having seized my prize, was up again

before you could have counted ten.

 

Having stuffed the precious thing into my pocket, I stood upon the ridge

and once more looked at Ammon. He had risen and gone back a little; thus

much I could make out but nothing more, for now he was wellnigh

invisible. Dead, awful silence followed, and for the first time since

leaving home I felt afraid; afraid, that is, because I could not see

this murderous villain clearly, because he was now but a lurking,

threatening shadow in the darkness. But just as I was thinking swiftly

whether to speed home with what I had so luckily secured, or draw my

sword and try to end the mischief-working fellow’s life, the heavy

westward clouds behind me broke; the moon burst forth; and, in a moment,

we were made plain to one another.

 

There, stiff and straight, stood Tubal Ammon with his hands behind him,

as motionless as though he had been carved in cold grey stone. The moon

shone full upon his yellow, wrinkled face, and, seen by that ghostly

light, he was, indeed, as much like Satan as a man could be. The very

gold-pieces, glistening here and there, deep red, among the grass, were

to my startled fancy as great drops of blood.

 

Thus, for the second time within the rounding of the clock, did I and

Tubal Amnion face each other; and ’tis small wonder that I, stiff as he,

stared at him like one spell-bound. And as I stared, I remember

wondering vaguely what had possessed him to remain thus, when he might

easily have fled to safety in the dark-ness. Surely not the gold, for

he had gathered most of that! What, then? Well, I was very soon to

know.

 

Meanwhile the silence grew appalling, unsupportable. It must be broken.

 

"Once more!" I shouted.

 

"Once more," he answered, though in a voice so low and still as barely

moved his lips.

 

"What would you have?" I asked, scarce knowing what I said.

 

Another silence followed, and then two words came hissing through it

like a knife-thrust:

 

"Your life!"

 

Although this was no news to me, the utterance of it thus was something

of a shock. A threat made face to face gains ugly meaning, especially

from such a man as he who stood before me. I paused a moment, then

said, slowly:

 

"Yes, truly, you would kill me and my father also. I am forewarned of

that. For, look you, Tubal Ammon, all your foul plans are known to me.