have him for all his cunning, eh, boy?"
"Not yet," I answered; "he is far away by this
time. But we'll have him : oh, yes, we'll have him."
Uncle Loveday looked at me oddly for a moment,
and then repeated —
" Yes, yes, we'll have him safe enough. Joe Roscorla
WE EXAMINE THE CLASP. 171
must have given the alarm before he had time to go far.
And to think/'' he addetl^ throwing up his hand^ '' that
I talked to the villain only yesterday morning as though
he were some unfurtunate victim of the sea ! ''
I am sure that my uncle was regretting the vast
deal of very fine language he had wasted: andj indeed,
he had seldom more nobly risen to an occasion.
"Pearls, pearls before swine! Swine did I say?
Snakes, if it's not an insult to a snake to give its name
to such as Colliver. What did you say, Jasper ? "
'' We'll have him.'^
'' Jasper, iny boy,'^ said he, scanning me for a second
time oddly, " maybe you'll be better in bed. Try to
sleep again, my poor lad — what do you think ? ^'
" I think," I answei-ed, " that we have not yet
looked at the clasp."
" W\f dear b«»y, you're right : you're right again.
Let us look at it."
The piece of metal resembled, as I have said, the
half of a waist-buckle, having a socket but no corre-
sponding hook. In shape it was slightly oblong, being
about 3 in. by liin. It glittered brightly in the
candle's ray as Uncle Loveday polished it with his
handkerchief, readjusted his spectacles, and bent over it.
At the end of a minute he looked up, and said —
" I cannot make head or tail of it. It seems plain
enough to read, but makes nonsense. Come over here
and see for yourself."
I bent over his shoulder, and this is what I saw —
172
DEAD MAN S HOCK.
The ecl
llowers and beasts, all exquisitely small. Within this
was eutj by a much roug-her hand, an inscription which
was plain enough to read, though making no sense what-
ever. The writing was arranged in live lines of three
words apiece, and ran thus : —
MOON .
, END .
SOUTH.
N.X.W. .
, 22 .
I'EET.
NORTH
. SIDE ,
. 4.
DEEP
. AT .
, POINT.
WATEi; .
li .
HOUIJS.
I read the words a lull dozen times, and then, failing
of any interpretation, turned to Uncle Loveday —
" Jasper,^"* said he, " to my mind those words make
nonsense/'
" And to mine, uncle. ^'
" Now attend to me, Jasper. This is evidently but
one half of the clasp which your father discovered.
That's as plain as daylight. The question is, what has
become of the other half, of the hook that should fit into
this eye ? Now, what I want you to do is to try and
remember if this was all that the man Railton gave
you.-
" This was all."
'' You are quite certain ? "
" Quite/'
*' You did not leave the other piece behind in the
cow-shed by any chance ? "
THE WRITING ON THE CLASP. 173
'' No, for I looked at the packet before I hid it, and
there was only one piece of metal/'
" Very well. One half of the golden clasp being
lost, the next qnestion is_, what has become of it ? "
I nodded.
"To this/' said Uncle Loveday, bending forward
over the table, " two answers are possible. Either it
lies at the bottom of the sea with the rest of the freight
of the Belle Fortune, or it is in Colli ver's possession."
" It may lie l)eneath Dead Man's Rock, in Jolm
Railton's pocket/-' I suggested.
" True, my boy, true ; you put another case. But
anyhow it 'makes no difference. If it lies at the bottom
of the sea, whether in Railton^s pocket or not, the secret
is safe. If it is in Colliver's possession the secret is
safe, unless he has seen and learnt by heart this half of
the inscription. In any case, I am sorry to tell you —
and this is what I was coming to — the secret is closed
against us for the time.''
"That is not certain/' said I.
"Excuse me, Jasper, it is quite certain. You admit
3'ourself that this writing is nonsense. Well and good.
But besides this, I would have you remember," pursued
Uncle Loveday, turning once more to my father's
Journal, '' that Ezekiel expressly says, * The inscription
ran right across the clasp.' It conld be read easily
enough and contained accurate directions for searching
in some spot, but where that spot was it did not
reveal "
174 DEAD man's rock.
"Quite so/' I interrnpteclj '^aiid that is just what
wc have to discover/'
" How ? ''
''Why, by means of the key, as the pareliment and
the Will plainly show. We may still he beaten, but
even so, we shall know whereabouts to look, if we ean
only catch Col liver."
" Bless the boy ! '' said Uncle Loveday, " he cer-
tainly has a head.''
" Uncle," continued I, rising to my feet, '' the
secret of the Great Ruby is written upon my g-rand-
father's key. That key was to be taken down when he
that undertook the task of discovering the secret should
have returned and crossed the threshold of Lantrig.
Uncle, my father has crossed the threshold of Lantrig — "
" Feet foremost, feet foremost, my boy. Oh, poor
Ezekiel ! "
'' Feet foremost, yes," I continued — '' dead and
murdered, yes. But he has come : come to find my
mother dead, but still he has come. Uncle, I am the
only Trenoweth left to Lantrig ; think of it, the only
one left "
" Poor Ezekiel ! Poor Margery ! "
*'Yes, uncle, and all I inherit is the knife that
murdered my father, and this key. I have the knife,
and I will take down the key. ^e are not beaten
yet."
I drew a chair vxnder the great beam, and mounted
it. When first my grandfather returned he had hung
I TAKE DOWN THE GREAT KEY. 175
the iron key upon its hook, gnviug' strict injunctions
that no one shoukl touch it. There ever since it hail
hung, the centre of a host of spiders' webs. Even my
poor mother's brush, so cliHgent eksewhere, had never
invaded this sacred relic, and often during" our lonely
^vinter evenings had she told me the story of it : how
tliat Amos Trenoweth's d\'ing curse was laid upon the
person tliat sliould touch it, and how the spiders' days
were numbered with every day that brought my father
nearer home.
There it hung now, scarcely to be seen for cobwebs.
Its hour had come at last. Even as I stretched out my
hand a dozen horrid things hurried tumultuous!}' back
into darkness. Even as I laid my hand on it, a big
ungainly spider, scared but half incredulous, started in
alarm, hesitated, and finally made off at full speed for
shelter.
This, then, was the key that should unlock the
treasure — this, that had from the first hung over us, the
one un cleansed spot in Lantrig: this was the talisman
— this grimy thing lying- in my hand. The spiders had
been jealous in their watch.
Stepping down, I got a cloth and brushed away the
cobwebs. The key was covered thickly with rust, but
even so I could see that something was written upon it.
For about a minute I stood polishing it, and then carried
it forward to the light.
Yes, there was writing upon it, both on the handle
and along the shaft — writing that, as it shaped itself
176 DEAD man's rock.
before my eyes, caused them to stare in wrathful in-
credulity, caused my heart to sink at first in dismay
and then to swell in mad indignation, caused my blood
to turn to gall and my thoughts to very bitterness. For
this Avas what I read : —
On the handle were engraved in large capitals the
initials A. T. with the date MDCCCXII. Along the
shaft, from handle to wards, ran on either side the
following sentence in old English lettering : —
This was all. This short sentence was the sum of
all the vain quest on which my father had met his end.
" Thy house is set upon the sands,'' and even now had
crumbled away beneath Amos Trenoweth's curse. " Thy
hopes by a dead man," and even now he on whom our
hopes had rested, lay upstairs a pitiful corpse. Was
ever mockery more fiendish ? As the full cruelty of the
words broke in upon me, once again I seemed to hear
the awful cry from the sea, but now among its voices
rang a fearful laugh as though Amos Trenoweth's soul
were making merry in hell over his grim jest — the
slaughter of his son and his son's wife.
White with desperate passion, I turned and hurled
the accursed key across the room into the blazing
hearth.
END OP BOOK I,
177
§ooh II.
THE FINDING OF THE GREAT RUBY.
CHAPTER I.
TELLS HOW THOMAS LOVEDAY AND I WENT IN SEAKCII Oi'
EORTUNE.
Seeing that these pages do nut profess to be an auto-
biography, but rather the plain chronicle of certain
events connected with the Great lluby of Ceylon, I
conceive myself entitled to the reader's pardon if I do
some violence to the art of the narrator, and here ask
leave to pass by, with but slight allusion, some four-
teen years. This I do because the induence of this
mysterious jewel, although it has indelibly coloured my
life, has been sensibly exercised during two periods
alone — periods short in themselves, but nevertheless
long enough to determine between them every current
of my destiny, and to supply an interpretation for my
every action.
I am the more concerned with advertisiug the reader
of this, as on looking back upon what I have written
with an eye as far as may be impartial, I have not failed
M
178 DEAD man's rock.
to note one obvious criticism that will be passed upon
me. " How/' it will be asked, " could any boy barely
eight years of age conceive the thoughts and entertain
the emotions there attributed to Jasper Trenoweth ? "
The criticism is just as well as obvious. As a soli-
tary man for ever brooding on the past, I will not deny
that I may have been led to paint that past in coloure
other than its own. Indeed, it would be little short of
a miracle were this not so. A morbid soul — and I will
admit that mine is morbid — preying upon its recollec-
tions, and nourished on that food alone, cannot hope to
attain the sense of proportion which is the proper gift
of varied experience. I readily grant, therefore, that
the lights and shades on this picture may be wrong,
as judged by the ordinary eye, but I do claim them
to be a faithful reproduction of my own vision. As I
look back I find them absolutely truthful, nor can I
give the lie to my own impressions in the endeavour to
write what shall seem true to the rest of the world.
This must be, therefore, my excuse for asking the
reader to pass by fourteen years and take up the tale far
from Lantrig. But before I plunge again into my
storv, it is right that I should briefly touch on the chief
events that occm-red during this interval in my life.
They buried my father and mother in the same
grave in Polkimbra Churchyard. I remember now
that crowds of fisher-folk lined the way to their last
restinc-place, and a host, as it seemed to me, of tear-
stained faces watched the cofiBns laid in the earth.
rOTJETEEN YEAES. 179
But all else is a blurred picture to me, as, indeed, is the
time for many a long day after.
Colliver was never found. Captain Merrydew raised
the hue and cry, but the sailor Georgio Rhodojani was
never seen again from the moment when his evil face
leered in through the window of Lantrig. A reward
was offered, and more than once Polkimbra was excited
with the news of his arrest, but it all came to nothing.
Failing his capture. Uncle Loveday was wisely silent on
the subject of my father^s Journal and the secret of the
Great Ruby. He had not been idle, however. After
•long consultation with Aunt Elizabeth he posted off
to Plymouth to gain news of Lucy Railton and her
daughter, but without success. The " Welcome Home ''
still stood upon the Barbican, but the house was in
possession of new tenants, and neither they nor their
landlord could tell anytliing of the Railtons except that
they had left suddenly about two months before (that
being the date of the wreck of the Belle Fortune) after
paying their rent to the end of the Christmas quarter.
The landlord could give no reasons for their departure
— for the house had a fair trade — but supposed that
the husband must have returned from sea and taken
them away. Uncle Loveda}", of course, knew better,
but on this point held his peace. The one result of
all his inquiries was the certainty that the Railtons
had vanished utterly.
So Lantrig, for the preservation of which my father
had given his life, was sold to strangers, and I went to
M -2
180 DEAD man's hock.
live with Aunt ;iinl riitk- Loveday at Lizaixl Town.
The j)iott'eds ot' the sale (ami they were small indeed)
Uuelc Loveday put earelully by until sueli time as I
should be east upon the world to seek tny fortune. For
twelve uneventiul y«'ars my aunt I'ed me, and uiule
taught uie — beiu<^ no mean seholar, espeeially in Latin,
whieh tongue he took <^reat pains to make me |)erreet in.
Thomas Loveday was my only com}»anion, and soon
l)eeame my dear friend. Poor Tom ! I can see his
handsome faee before me now as it was in those old days
— the dreamy eyes, the rare smile with its faint sugj^es-
tion of moekery, the fair eurls in whieh a breeze seemed
for ever blowing-, the pursed lips that had a habit of say-
ing such wonderful things. In my dreams — three few
dreams of mine that are happy — we are always boys
together, climbing the eliils for eggs, or risking our
livi'S in Tncle Loveday's boat — always boys together.
Poor Tom ! I'oor Tom !
So the uimiarketl time rolled on, until there came a
memorable day in July on whieh 1 must touch for a
monjenl. It was eveuiug. I was returning with Tom
to Lizard Town from Dead Man's Rock, where we had
been basking all the sunny afternoon, Tom reading, and
I simply staring vacantly into the heavens and wonder-
ing when the time would come that should set me
free to unravel the mastery of this ill-omened spot.
Finally, after taking our till of idleness, we bathed as
the sun was setting ; and 1 remember wondering, as
1 divcil off the black ledge, whether beneath me there
ILL NEWS. 181
lay any relic of the Belle Fortinio, any fragment that
mig-lit preserve some record of her end. I had dived
here often enough^ but found nothing, nor could I see
anything to-day but the clean sand twinkling beneath
its veil of blue, though here, as I guessed, must still
lie the bones of John Railton. But I must hasten. We
were returning over the Downs when suddenly I spied
a small figure running towards us, and making frantic
signals of disti'ess.
" That,^"* said I, '^ from tlie shape of it, must be Joe
Roscorla.^''
And Joe Roseorla it was, only by no means the Joe
Roscorla of ordinary life, but a galvanised and gesticu-
lating Joe, whereas the Joe that we knew was of a
lethargic bearing and slow habit of speech. Still, it was
he, and as he came up to us he stayed all questioning
by gasping out the word " Missus ! '' and then falling
into a violent fit of coughing.
'^ Well, what is amiss ? " asked Tom.
" Took wi^ a seizure, an^ maister like a thing mazed, ^'
blurted Joe, and then fell to panting and coughing
worse than ever.
'^ What ! a seizure ? paralysis do you mean ? " I
asked, while Tom turned white.
" Just a seizure, and I hadn't got time for no longer
name. But run if 'ee want to see her alive. '^
We ran without further speech, Joe keeping at our
side for a minute, but soon dropping behind and fading
into distance. As we entered the door Uncle Loveday
182 DEAD man's rock.
inol ii-i, and 1 saw \>y his face that Aunt Elizabeth was
.lead.
81ie had boon in tlio kitchen busied with <»ur supper,
when slio suddenly fell down and died in a few minutes.
Heart disease was the cause, but in our part people only
die of three complaints — a seizun', an iidlammation, or
a decline. The difl'erence between these is purely one of
time, so that Joe Roseorla, learninii^ the suddenness of
the attack, jud<:>ed it forthwith a ease of " seizure," and
had so rej>orted.
IVIy poor aunt was dead ; and until now we had
never known how we loved her. Jjike so many of the
Trenoweths she seemed hard and reserved to many, but
we who liad liveil with her had learnt the jroodness of
her soul and the sincerity of her relii4ion. 'l"he j^n-ief of
her husband was her noblest ppita])h.
lie, i)oor man, was inconsolable. "Without his wife
he seemed as one deprived of most of his limbs, and
moved helplessly about, as though life were now with-
out purpose. Accustomed to be ruled by her at every
turn, he missed her in every action of the day. Very
swiftly he sank, of no assi<^ned complaint, and within
six months was laid beside her.
On his death-bed my uncle seemed strangely troubled
about us. Tom was to be a doctor. My destiny was
not so certain ; but already I had renounced in my
heart an inglorious life in Lizard Town. I longed to go
with Tom ; in London, too, I thought I should be free
to follow the purpose of my life. But the question was,
UNCLE LOVEDAY IS TROUBT^ED. 183
how should I find the money ? For I knew that the
sum obtained by the sale of Lantrig' was miserably in-
sufficient. So I sat Avith idle hands and waited for
destiny ; nor did I realise my helplessness until I stood
in the room where Uncle Loveday lay dying".
"Tom/^ said my uncle, " Tom, come closer."
Tom bent over the bed.
" I am leaving- you two boys without friends in this
world. You have friends in Lizard Town, but Lizard
Town is a small world, Tom. I ought to have sent you
to London before, but kept putting* oif the parting. If
one could only foresee — could only foresee."
He raised himself slightly on his elbow, and con-
tinued with pain —
" You will go to Guy's, and Jasper, I hope, may go
with you. Be friends, boys ; you will want friendship
in this world. It will be a struggle, for there is barely
enough for both. But it is best to share equally; s//e
would have wished that. She was always planning that.
I am doing it badly, I know, but she would have done
it better."
The chill December sun came stealing in and
illumined the sick man's face with a light that was the
shadow of heaven. The strange doctor moved to the
blind. My uncle's voice arrested him —
" No, no. Leave it up. You will have to pull it
down very soon — only a few moments now. Tom, come
closer. You have been a g*ood boy, Tom, a good boy,
though" — ^^with a faint smile — "a little trying at times.
18-1 DKAO AFAN's ItOfK.
All, lull she fort^ave you, Toni. She loved you dearly ;
she will tell me so — when we meet."
jNIy uncle's g-aze beg-an to wander, as though antici-
pating that meeting-; but he roused himself and said —
" Kiss me, Tom, and send .I:is|itn- to mo."
Bit((M'ly wecpini;', Tom m:id»' room, :ind T bent over
the bed.
" Ah, Jasper, il is you. Kissmt', boy. 1 have been
telliui;- Tom 1h;i( you must share alike, (jiod has been
stern with yuu, .Iiisprr, to His own good ends — His own
g^ood ends. Oidy be jiatienf, it will come right at the
last. Ilnw diirk it is gelling; j)ull up the blind."
'' The blind is ii]>, uncle."
" Ah, yes, 1 forgot. I have dflen IhoULiht — do you
remember thai day — reading \-our latlu-r's paper — and
the key y "
" Ves, uncle."
" I have ol'teu Ihought — about th:it key — which you
Hung into the lire— and I pieked out — your father
Ezekiel's key — keeji it. Closer, Jasper, elo.ser "
I bent down until my ear almost touched his lips.
" I have — often — thought — we were wrong that
night — and perhaps — meant — search — in . . ."
For cpiite a minute I bent to catch the next word,
then looking' on his face withdrew my arm and laid the
grey head back ujxui the pillow.
jNIy \incle was dead.
^ -H- -jf * ^ ^
So it happened that a few weeks after Tom and I,
MY UNCLE DIES. 185
having" fonud Uncle Loveday's saving's equally divided
between us^ started from Lizard Town by coach to seek
our fortunes in London. In London it is that I must
resume ray tale. Of our early mishaps and mis-
adventures I need not speak, the result being discernible
as the story progresses. We did not find our fortunes,
but we found some wisdom. Neither Tom nor I ev^er
confessed to disappointment at finding the pavements
of mere stone, but certainly two more absolute Whii-
tingtons never trod the streets of the great city.
But before I resume I must say a few words of
mj'self. No reader can gather the true moral of this
narrative who does not take into account the effect
which the cruel death of my parents had wroug-ht on
me. From the day of the wreck hate had been my
constant companion, cherished and nursed in my heart
until it held complete mastery over all other passions.
I lived, so I told myself over and over again, but to
avenge, to seek Simon Colliver high and low until I
held him at my mercy. Thousands of times I rehearsed
the scene of our meeting, and always I held the knife
which stabbed my father. In my waking thoughts, in
my dreams, I was always pursuing, and Colliver for ever
fleeing before me. In every crowd I seemed to watch
for his face alone, at every street-corner to listen for his
voice — that face, that voice, which I should know among*
thousands. I had read De Quincey^s ^"^ Opium-Eater,^^
and the picture of his uni-esting" search for his lost Ann
somehow seized upon my imagination. Night after
186 DKAI) man's KOCK.
iiit;lit it \v:i- (<• Oxlonl Slrcct that my devil drove nn- ,
nig'lil :iflti- iii^ht I \K\i-fi\ till' " ni'vcr-cudiiij;' torracos,"
as did the opimn-i'alor, on my tireless quest — but with
I'celiuf^s how difTerent ! To me it was hut one lonp^
thirst of hatred, tlu; lon<^ avt'uues of o;aslii;ht vistas of
an av('n<4'in<_;- hell, all the mult it udinniis smmds of life
hut Ihr iliorus of that song' to whi
•'Siii^ liii ! l»nt lie waits for you."
To London had Sim<>n Collivor come, and somewhere,
some (lav, he would ho mine. I util that day I soug'ht
a liviuL;' faec in a eity of deail men, and down that
illimitahlt> slope to Ilolhorn, and hack ai^ain, I would
tramp until the ])avements were silent and deserletl, then
seek my hxli^inu;- and throw myself exhausted on the hed.
Tn a ding-y "-arret, lookinij^ out, when its ^rimy panes
allowed, al)ove one of the many squalid streets that feed
the main artery of the Strand, my story hef]fins anew.
The furniture of the room relieves mo of the task of
word-painting', l)eing- more cfTectively desorihed hy cata-
logue, after the manner of the ships at Troy. It con-
sisted of two small beds, one rickety washstand, one
wooden chair, and one tin candlestick. At the ])resent
moment this last held a flickering dip, for it was ten
o'clock on the night of May the ninth, eighteen hundred
and sixty-three. On the chair sat Tom, turning ex-
citedly the leaves of a prodigiously imposing manuscript.
I was sitting on the edge of the hed nearest the candle,
brooding on my hate as usual.
TOM AND I. 187
Fortmio had evidently dealt us some roug-li knocks.
We were dressed, as Tom put it, to suit the furniture,
and did it to a nicety. We were fed, according- to the
same authority, aLove our income ; but not often. I
also quote Tom in saying- that we were living- rather
fast : we certainly saw no long- prospect before us. In
short, matters had reached a crisis.
Tom looked up from his reading.
" Do you know, Jasper, I could wish that our wash-
stand had not a hole cut in it to receive the basin. It
sounds hyper-critical. But really it prejudices me in
the eyes of the managers. There^'s a suspicious bulge in
the middle of the paper that is damning-.^'
I was absorbed in my own thoughts, and took no
notice. Presently he continued —
" Whittington is an overrated character, don't you
ihink? After all he owed his success to his name. It's
a great thing- for strugg-ling }'outh to have a three-
syllabled name with a proparoxyton accent. IVe been
listening to the bells to-night and they can make nothing-
of Loveday, while as for Trenoweth, it's hopeless.''^
As I still remained silent, Tom proceeded to an-
nounce —
"The House will now go into the Question of
Supply.-
" The Exchequer," I reported, " contains exactly
sixteen and eightpence halfpenny."
" Rent having been duly paid to-day and receipt
ffiven."
188 dj:ai) mw's koc k.
" Ko('ri|>t ^ivi'll,*' 1 fcluM'd.
" KimIIv, wlicn
tion is striking-. Hen' arc you, .luspcr Tronowctli,
inheritor \)\ th(> (ircat Knhv of {'(•yh)n, hosidos ollirr
treasure too paltrs to nimliun, in tIani,Tr of starving;
in a •iji'nnt't. flci-c am I. Thiinia-^ Tjove
* Franeesra : a Tranodv,' and other hiasterpiecrs too