Nor was he mistaken. That individual was sitting very comfortably in an arm-chair near the fire, gazing around him, and wondering, amongst other things, where the master of the house kept his strong-box.
"You are known, I believe," said Greenwood, carefully closing the door, "as the Cracksman?"
"That's my title, sir—for want of a better," answered the villain.
"You are, perhaps, astonished that I have sent for you here," continued Greenwood: "but I wish a certain service performed this very night, and for which I will pay you liberally."
"What's the natur' of the sarvice?" demanded the Cracksman, darting a keen and penetrating glance at Greenwood.
"A highway robbery," coolly answered this individual.
"Well, that's plain enow," said the Cracksman. "But first tell me how you come to know of me, and where I was to be seen: because how can I tell but what this is all a plant of yours to get me into trouble?"
"I will answer you candidly and fairly. A few years ago, when I first entered on a London life, I determined to make myself acquainted with all the ways of the metropolis, high or low, virtuous or vicious. I disguised myself on several occasions, in very mean clothes, and visited all the flash houses and patter-cribs—amongst others, the boozing-ken on Great Saffron-hill. There you were pointed out to me; and your skill, your audacity, and your extraordinary luck in eluding the police, were vaunted by the landlord of that place in no measured terms."
"Well—this is singular:—blow me if it ain't!" cried the Cracksman. "Another person found me out jist in the same way this wery morning, only, and he wants a little private job done for him. But that's for to-morrow night. Howsomever, I never blab to one, of what I have done or am going to do for another. You to-night—him to-morrow night! Arter all, the landlord's a fool to talk so free: how did he know you wasn't a trap in disguise?"
"Because I told him that my object was merely to see life in all its shapes: and I was then so very young I could scarcely have been considered dangerous. However, I have occasionally indulged in such rambles, even very lately; and only a few weeks ago I looked in at the boozing-ken dressed as a poor countryman. There I saw you again; and I overheard you say to a friend of yours whom you called the Buffer, that you were generally there every evening to see what was going on."
"All right!" cried the Cracksman. "Now what's the robbery, and what's the reward?"
"Are you man enough to do it alone?"
"I'm man enow to try it on; but if so be the chap is stronger than me——"
"He is a tall, powerful person, and by no means likely to surrender without a desperate resistance."
"Well, all that can be arranged," said the Cracksman, coolly. "Not knowing what you wanted with me, I brought two of my pals along with me, and they're out in the street, or in the alley leading into the park. If there'd been anythink wrong on your part, they would either have rescued me, or marked you and your house for future punishment."
"I am glad that you have your companions so near. Of course they will assist you?"
"In anythink. The Resurrection Man and the Buffer will stick to me like bricks."
"Very good. I will now explain to you what I want done. Between eleven and twelve o'clock a gentleman will leave London for Richmond. He will be in his own cabriolet, with a tiger, only twelve years old, behind. The cab is light blue—the wheels streaked with white. This is peculiar, and cannot be mistaken. The horse is a tall bay, with silver-mounted harness. This gentleman must be stopped; and every thing his pockets contain—every thing, mind—must be brought to me. Whatever money there may be about him shall be yours; and I will add fifty guineas to the amount:—but all that you find about his person, save the money, must be handed over to me."
"I understand," said the Cracksman. "Does he carry pistols?"
"I should imagine not."
"Never mind: the Resurrection Man has got couple of barkers. But supposing he shouldn't come at all—what then?"
"You shall have twenty guineas for your loss of time. Here are ten as an earnest."
"That's business," said the Cracksman. "Any more instructions?"
"No. I need scarcely say that no unnecessary violence is to be used?"
"Leave all that to me. You will sit up and wait for me?"
"Yes. Give a low single knock at the door, and the same servant who sought you out last night, and let you in just now, will admit you again."
The Cracksman gave a significant nod and took his departure.
Mr. Greenwood returned to the dining-room, where he had left the count.
"My news from Paris is of the most satisfactory nature," he observed. "My correspondents in that city, moreover, promise me their best support in our new enterprise."
"I am delighted to hear that your letters have pleased you," said the count.
The two gentlemen then broached another bottle of Burgundy; and Mr. Greenwood conversed with even more sprightliness than usual. Indeed, the count fancied that he had never found his host so agreeable and entertaining.
At eleven o'clock precisely, the count's cabriolet was announced; and the nobleman took his departure, with the conviction, that, under his present circumstances, Mr. Greenwood was the most eligible suitor for the hand of Isabella that was likely to present himself.
As soon as the count had taken his departure, Mr. Greenwood rang for his slippers and dressing-gown, drew close to the cheerful fire that burnt in the grate, and ordered Lafleur to make him a tumbler of the best pine-apple rum-punch. This exhilarating beverage and a fragrant Havannah cigar enabled Mr. Greenwood to pass the time away in a most comfortable and soul-soothing manner.
And it was thus that he mused as he watched the pale blue transparent smoke of his cigar wreathing upwards to the ceiling:—
"I began the world without a shilling, and at an age when I had no experience in the devious ways of society;—and what am I now? The possessor of sixty thousand pounds! A few years ago I slept in coffee-houses, paying eight-pence a night for my bed: I breakfasted for three-pence halfpenny; dined for ten-pence; and supped for two-pence. Now the luxuries of the four quarters of the world tempt my palate at every meal. At the outset of my career, my transactions were petty rogueries: now I play my false cards to produce me thousands at a stake. I once purchased my coat for twelve shillings in Holywell-street; there is not now a tailor at the west-end who will not give credit to George Greenwood. My wealth purchases me every kind of pleasure. I can afford to bestow a thousand guineas upon the woman, who, daughter of a peer, and wife of a baronet, throws herself into my arms. One single scheme produces me ten times that amount. And Isabella—beauteous Isabella shall be my wife. I shall receive no dowry with her, it is true—because I have obtained all her father's fortune in advance;—but I shall be proud to introduce a lovely wife—the daughter of a count, and descended from a long line of ancestry, in that fashionable sphere to which I must henceforth belong. I shall be a member of parliament: Lord Tremordyn can easily obtain for me a baronetcy in due time;—and then, the peerage is not a height too difficult to aspire to! Oh! if with a coronet upon my brow, and Isabella by my side, I can drive in my chariot to——"
Lafleur entered the room at this moment, and handed a letter to his master. Greenwood opened it, and read as follows:—
"I have done your bidding in every particular up to the present moment. Louisa set off this afternoon for Birmingham, having received a letter stating that her only sister is at the point of death in that town. You will of course understand by whom that letter was written. I have, moreover, invented an excuse, relative to the date of the departure of the New York packets from Liverpool, by which means I am enabled to remain in London without exciting the suspicions of Eliza. I shall pass to-morrow evening with her. You may rely upon being admitted at midnight."
Greenwood