The Mysteries of London (Vol. 1-4). George W. M. Reynolds. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: George W. M. Reynolds
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
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Eugene!" cried Richard, springing forward to catch his brother in his arms.

      "Brother indeed!" muttered the ominous voice of the Resurrection Man; and at the same moment Richard was pinioned from behind by the Buffer, who skilfully wove a cord around his arms, and fastened his elbows together.

      "Villains!" ejaculated Richard, struggling with all his might—but vainly, for the Resurrection Man, whose voice he had immediately recognised but too well, threw him violently upon the damp sod.

      "Now, my lad," cried the Resurrection Man, "your fate is decided. In a few minutes you'll be at the bottom of the canal, and then—"

      He said no more—for at that moment another person appeared upon the scene; and, quick as thought, the Resurrection Man was felled by the butt end of a pistol.

      But the instant the miscreant touched the ground, he caught a desperate hold of the person who had so suddenly and unexpectedly appeared upon the spot; and Filippo—for it was he—also rolled on the damp sward.

      The Resurrection Man leapt upon him, and caught hold of his throat with such savage violence, that the Italian would have been suffocated in a few moments, had not the flash of a pistol close by the head of the Resurrection Man turned the fortune of the combat.

      The pistol so aimed only flashed in the pan; but the sudden glare singed the Resurrection Man's hair, and caused him to abandon his victim and spring upon his feet with an alacrity that resembled a galvanic effect.

      The Buffer, alarmed by the first attack on the part of Filippo, had relinquished his hold of the rope that confined Richard's arms; and Markham, encouraged by this sudden and unexpected assistance, disengaged himself from the coil with the rapidity of lightning. He then sprang upon the Buffer, hurled him to the ground, and, placing his knee upon the ruffian's chest, kept him fast in that prostrate condition on the very verge of the canal.

      The Resurrection Man, with eagle glance, beheld the situation of affairs. He saw his confederate powerless, and desperate odds leagued against himself—for, in the darkness of the night, he could not observe that one of his opponents was a female in disguise.

      The moment that he sprang from the ground, in consequence of the flash of the pistol close by his ear, he cast this comprehensive look over the field of action.

      There was no time for hesitation.

      Pushing Ellen violently aside, and dashing Filippo furiously back again upon the ground from which he was rising, the Resurrection Man darted upon Richard Markham.

      In another moment there was a splash of water: a cry of horror issued from the lips of Ellen; the Resurrection Man shouted "Run! run!"—but neither the young lady nor Filippo thought of interrupting the flight of the miscreants.

      "The villains!—they have drowned him!" exclaimed Filippo; and, without an instant's hesitation, he plunged into the canal.

      "Brave man!" cried Ellen. "Save him—oh! save him!"

      As she uttered these words, she stumbled over the coil of rope which had been used to confine Markham's hands, and which the miscreants had left behind them.

      Instantly twining one end round her delicate wrist, she cast the other into the canal; and creeping so far down the bank as nearly to touch the water, she exclaimed, "Here is a rope, Filippo: Richard, try and catch the rope. Speak, Filippo—can you save him? If not, I will myself plunge into the stream—and—"

      "He is lost—he is gone!" said Filippo, who was swimming about on the surface of the water as skilfully as if it were his native element.

      "Oh, God! do not say that! do not—"

      "I see him—I see him, Miss—yonder—down the stream—struggling desperately—"

      At that moment a faint cry for help echoed over the bosom of the canal.

      Ellen scrambled up the bank, and darted along the margin with the speed of the fawn, dragging the long coil of rope after her.

      In a few moments she beheld a black object appear on the surface of the water—then disappear again in an instant.

      But Filippo had already gained that part of the stream; and Ellen directed him with her voice to the spot where the object had sunk.

      The brave Italian, though well-nigh exhausted, dived fearlessly; and to the infinite joy of Ellen, re-appeared upon the surface, exclaiming, "He is saved—he is saved!"

      Supporting Markham's head above the water, Filippo swam to the bank; and, aided by Ellen and the rope, succeeded in landing his burden as well as himself.

      Markham was insensible; but Filippo placed his hand upon the young man's breast, and said, "He lives!"

      "Heaven be thanked!" ejaculated Ellen, solemnly.

      She then chafed his temples; while the Italian rubbed the palms of his hands.

      In a few minutes Richard moaned.

      The attentions of those who hung over him were redoubled; and Filippo was about to propose to convey him to the nearest dwelling, when he gasped violently, and murmured, "Where am I?"

      "Saved!" answered Ellen. "None but friends are near you."

      A quarter of an hour had not elapsed from the moment that he was rescued from the water, when he was so far recovered as to sit up on the bank; and all fears on the part of Ellen relative to his complete resuscitation had vanished.

      "Ellen—is that you? can this be you? was it your voice that I heard?" he said, in a faint tone: "or is it a vision?"

      "It is no vision, Richard—it is indeed Ellen, who owes you so much, and who has been the humble instrument—aided by this brave man—of saving your life."

      "And who is this brave man?" asked Markham. "Tell me his name, that I may pour forth my gratitude to him, as well as to you, kind Ellen—my sister!"

      "His sister!" murmured Ellen; while an emotion, like an electric shock, agitated her to the very heart's core.

      But those words—"his sister!"—were not heard by either Markham or Filippo.

      "Do not fatigue yourself by speaking now," said Ellen, after a moment's pause. "Suffice it for the present to tell you that I was afraid of treachery towards you—I had my misgivings—a presentiment of evil haunted me! I owed you so much, that I was determined to watch over your safety—weak and powerless as I am. Hence this strange attire. Fortunately I met this brave man—a total stranger to me—near the spot; and, when I communicated my object to him, he generously offered to bear me company."

      "Excellent girl!—generous stranger!" cried Richard; "I owe you my life. Oh! how can I ever express my gratitude?"

      "We must not speak on that subject now, sir," said Filippo. "The chief point to be considered is how to get you home."

      "And he lives so far from here, too," hastily exclaimed Ellen, laying her hand at the same time, but unseen by Markham, on Filippo's arm.

      The Italian took the hint, which was to remind him that he must not seem to know the place of residence, or indeed any other particular concerning the affairs, of Richard Markham.

      "Oh! this bitter disappointment—this vile treachery!" cried the young man, whose thoughts were now reflected back to the cause of the perils from which he had just escaped.

      "Compose yourself," said Ellen, with peculiar and touching kindness of manner: "compose yourself, Richard; and do not excite yourself by unpleasant reflections. Let us rather think how we are to convey you home. There is no vehicle to be obtained in this neighbourhood."

      "I feel myself able to walk," said Markham—"at least as far as the nearest place where we can procure conveyance."

      "Wrap yourself up in my cloak," cried Filippo. "It is close at hand—I took it off and concealed it under yonder tree, before the conflict began."

      Filippo