The Lust of Hate by Guy Newell Boothby (digital book reader txt) 📕

all sorts and descriptions, while the stench

that greeted me baffles description. I have never smelled anything

like it before, and I hope I may never do so again.

 

The most I can say for the old lady who admitted me is that she

matched her surroundings. She was short almost to dwarfishness,

well-nigh bald, and had lost her left eye. Her dress consisted of a

ragged skirt, and in place of a body—I believe that is the technical

expression—she wore a man’s coat, which gave a finishing touch of

comicality to the peculiar outline of her figure. As soon as she saw

that I had entered, she bade me shut the door behind me and follow

her. This I did by means of a dilapidated staircase, in which almost

every step was taken at the risk of one’s life, to the second floor.

Having arrived there, she knocked upon a door facing her; and I

noticed that it was not until she had been ordered to enter that she

ventured to turn the handle.

 

“The gentleman what has come about the ‘ansom keb,” she said, as

she ushered me into the room.

 

The apartment was lit by two candles stuck in their own wax upon a

little deal table, and by their rays I could distinguish the man I

had come in search of standing by the fireplace awaiting me. He did

not greet me until he had made certain, by listening at the keyhole,

that the old woman had gone downstairs. He was a quaint little

fellow, Jewish from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He

had the nose of his race, little beady eyes as sharp as gimlets, and

a long beard which a little washing might have made white. He was

dressed in a black frock coat two sizes too large for him, black

trousers that would have fitted a man three times his size, and boots

that had been patched and otherwise repaired till their original

maker would not have known them again.

 

“Mr. Pennethorne, I presume,” he began, rubbing his hands together

and speaking as if he had a bad cold in his head. “I am delighted to

see you. I am sorry that I cannot ask you to sit down, but I have no

chair to give you. For the same reason I cannot offer you

refreshment. Have you had a good look at me?”

 

My surprise at this abrupt question prevented my replying for a

moment; then I insinuated that I thought I should know him again,

after which, with a muttered “That’s all right,” he blew out one of

the candles, remarking that, as we now knew each other, we could

conduct our business quite as well with half the light.

 

“I received word from our mutual acquaintance Dr. Nikola this

morning,” he began, when the illumination had been thus curtailed,

“that you would be coming to see me. Of course I did not ask the

business, for Dr. Nikola is my friend, and I obey and trust him to

the letter. By his instructions I am to fit you with a disguise, and

then to take you to the place where you will discover a certain

hansom cab awaiting you.”

 

I nodded. At the very mention of the cab my old hatred of Bartrand

sprang up again, and I began to question the Jew as to where we were

to find it and what I was to do when I had got it. But this

impetuosity did not meet with his approval.

 

“My young friend, you must not be in such a hurry,” he said,

wagging his head deprecatingly at me.

 

“We shall have to be sure we make no mistake, otherwise the doctor

would not be pleased, and I should not like to risk that. Have you

known Dr. Nikola very long?”

 

“I met him this morning for the first time in my life,” I

answered, realising on what intimate terms we now stood, considering

the length of our acquaintance.

 

“If that is so you have much to learn regarding him,” the Jew

replied. “Let us be very careful that we do not risk his displeasure.

Now we will get to work, for it is nearly time for us to be

going.”

 

As he spoke he crossed to a cupboard in the corner of the room,

and took from it some garments which he placed upon the table in the

centre.

 

“Here we have the very identical things,” he said, “and when

you’ve got them on, you’ll be as smart a cabby as any that mounts his

box in the streets of London. Try this and see how it suits you.”

 

He handed me a bushy black beard, which worked on springs, and

assisted me to fasten it to my face. When it was made secure he

stepped back and examined it critically; then with a muttered “that

will do,” turned to the garments on the table, and selected from the

heap a tarpaulin ‘cape, such as cabmen wear in wet weather. This I

fixed round my shoulders. A sou’wester was next placed upon my head,

and when this was done, as far as I was concerned, we were ready to

be off. My curious acquaintance was not long in making his toilet,

and five minutes later found us passing out of the filthy alley into

Great Gunter Street once more.

 

“I’ll go first,” said the Jew. “You follow two or three paces

behind me. It’s just as well we should not be seen together.”

 

I accordingly took up my position a few steps in the rear, and in

this fashion dodged along behind him, until we reached the corner of

Wardour and Pultney Streets. Here my guide stopped and looked about

him. Evidently what he wanted was not forthcoming, for he began to

grow uneasy, and stamped up and down the pavement, looking eagerly in

each direction. All the time I did not venture to approach him. I was

considering what I was about to do. I thought of my father, and my

brother and sisters, and wondered what they would have thought if

they could have known to what a pass I had fallen. What would my poor

mother have said if she had lived? But she, as far as I could learn

from those who had known her, had been a gentle Christian woman, and

if she had lived I should in all probability never have left England.

In that case I should not have known Bartrand, and this revenge would

then not have been necessary. By what small chances are our destinies

shaped out for us!

 

At last the rattle of wheels sounded, and a moment later a smart

hansom cab, which I recognised as that shown me by Nikola at his

house that morning, drove down the street and pulled up at the corner

where we stood. The lamps glowed brightly in the frosty air, and it

was evident the horse was one of spirit, for he tossed his head and

pawed the ground with impatience to be off again.

 

The driver descended from his perch, while the Jew went to the

horse’s head. The other was a tall fellow, and until he came into the

light of the lamps I could not see his face. To my surprise, he did

not speak, but stood fumbling in the pocket of his oilskin for

something, which proved to be a letter. This he handed to me.

 

I opened it and scanned its contents. It was, of course, from

Nikola.

 

“Dear—Everything is arranged, and I send you this, with the cab,

by my servant, who, as you know, will not reveal anything. As soon as

you receive it, mount and drive to Fall Mall. Be opposite the

Monolith Club punctually at 11.30 and once there, keep your eyes open

for the man we want. I will arrange that he shall leave exactly as

the clock chimes, and will also see that he takes your cab. When you

have dropped your fare in a quiet street, drive as fast as you can go

to Hogarth Square, and wait at, or near, the second lamppost on the

left-hand side. I will pick you up there, and will arrange the rest.

The man in question has been entertaining a distinguished company,

including two dukes and a Cabinet Minister, at dinner this evening,

but I have arranged to meet and amuse him at twelve. May good luck

attend you.

 

“Yours, N.”

 

I stuffed the note into ‘my pocket and then glanced at my watch.

It was exactly a quarter-past eleven, so if I wanted to be at the

rendezvous at the time stated it was necessary that I should start at

once. Without more ado, I climbed on to the seat at the back, wound

the rug I found there round my legs, put on the badge the

Chinaman handed up to me, and, whipping up the horse, much to the

Jew’s consternation, drove off down the street at a rapid pace. As I

turned into Great Windmill Street snow began to fall again, and I

gave an evil chuckle as I reflected that even the forces of Nature

were assisting me in my murderous intentions. In my heart I had no

pity for the man whom I was about to kill. He had robbed me as

cruelly as one man could rob another, and now I was going to repay

him for his treachery.

 

CHAPTER III. THE LUST OF HATE.

 

THE cab horse was a fine animal, and spun along to such good

purpose that when I turned from Waterloo Place into Pall Mall I had,

contrary to my expectations, still some few minutes to spare. Now

that the actual moment for putting into effect the threats I had so

often uttered against the man who had wronged me so cruelly, had

arrived, strange to say I was seized with a sudden and inexplicable

feeling of compassion for him. Badly as he had injured me, and

desirous as I was of repaying him for his treachery, I discovered I

could not bring myself to do what I had arranged without reluctance.

If it had been a matter of fair fighting, with the certainty of no

one interfering between us, it would have been a totally different

matter, and I could have gone into it with a light heart; but now to

decoy him to his death by the aid of Nikola’s science was an act of

cowardice at which my whole nature revolted.

 

Feeling half inclined to put off—if not for ever, at least for that

evening the dastardly deed I had had arranged for me—I drove slowly

down the street, quite unable to resist the temptation of seeing the man

whom, if I wished to do so, I could kill so easily. In the event of his

hailing me as had been arranged, I would reply that I was engaged, and

leave him to find another vehicle, unconscious of the narrowness of his

escape. At any cost I would not let him set foot in my conveyance. While

I was thus arguing with myself I was drawing closer and closer to the

Monolith Club. Already I could discern the stalwart form of the

commissionaire standing upon the steps under the great lamp. At the

moment that I approached, two men left the building arm in arm, but

neither of them was the man I wanted. Little by little their steps died

away in the distance, and so nicely had I timed my arrival that the

clock at the Palace ahead chimed the half-hour exactly as I came

opposite the steps. At the same instant the doors of the Club opened,

and Bartrand and another man, whom I recognised