The Evil Eye; Or, The Black Spector Part 29

"It was very well that he had it afterwards--better late than never."

"I want you to tell me where he is."

"What family have you?"

"Seven small childre that's now fatherless, I may say."

"What kind of a man was your husband?"

"Why, indeed, as handsome a vagabone as you'd see in a day's travellin'."

"Mention his name; I can tell you nothing till I hear it."

"He's called Rantin' Rody, the thief, and a great schamer he is among the girls."

"Ranting Rody--let me see," and here he looked very solemnly into his book--"yes; I see--a halter. My good woman, you had better not inquire after him; he was born to be hanged."

"But when will that happen, sir?"

"Your fate and his are so closely united, that, whenever he swings, you will swing. You will both hang together from the same gallows; so that, in point of fact, you need not give yourself much trouble about the time of his suspension, because I see it written here in the book of fate, that the same hangman who swings you off, will swing him off at the same moment. You'll 'lie lovingly together; and when he puts his tongue out at those who will attend his execution, so will you; and when he dances his last jig in their presence, so will you. Are you now satisfied?"

"Troth, and I'm very fond o' the vagabone, although he's the worst friend I ever had. But you won't tell me where he is? and I know why, because, with all your pretended knowledge, the devil a know you know."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Ay, c.o.c.ksure."

"Then I can tell you that he is sitting on the chair there, opposite me.

Go about your business, Rody, and rant elsewhere; you may impose upon others, but not upon a man that can penetrate the secrets of human life as I can. Go now; there is a white wand in the corner,--my conjuring rod,--and if I only touched you with it, I could leave you a cripple and beggar for life. Go, I say, and tell Caterine Collins how much she and you gained by this attempt at disgracing me."

Rody, for it was he, was thunderstruck at this discovery, and, springing to his feet, disappeared.

"Well, Rody," said the crowd, "how did you manage? Did he know you?"

Rody was as white in the face as a sheet. "Let me alone," he replied; "the conjurer above is the devil, and nothin' else. I must get a gla.s.s o' whiskey; I'm near faintin'; I'm as wake as a child; my strength's gone The man, or the devil, or whatsomever he is, knows everything, and, what is worse, he tould me I am to be hanged in earnest."

"Faith, Rody, that required no great knowledge on his part; there's not a man here but could have tould you the same thing, and there's none of us a conjurer."

Rody, however, immediately left them to discuss the matter among themselves, and went, thoroughly crestfallen, to give an account of his mission to Caterine Collins, who had employed him, and to rea.s.sume his own clothes, which, indeed, were by no means fresh from the tailor.

The last individual whose interview with the conjurer we shall notice was no other than Harry Woodward, our hero. On entering he took his seat, and looked familiarly at the conjurer.

"Well," said he, "there was no recognition?"

"How could there?" replied the other; "you know the thing's impossible; even without my beard, n.o.body in the town or about it knows my face, and to those who see me in character, they have other things to think of than the perusal of my features."

"The girl was with you?"

"She yes, and I feel that, unless we can get Shawn-na-Middogue taken off by some means or other, your life will not, cannot, be safe."

"She won't betray him, then? But I need not ask, for I have pressed her upon that matter before."

"She is very right in not doing so," replied the conjurer; "because, if she did, the consequence would be destruction to herself and her family.

In addition to this, however, I don't think it's in her power to betray him. He never sleeps more than one night in the same place; and since her recent conduct to him--I mean since her intimacy with you--he would place no confidence in her."

"He certainly is not aware of our intimacy."

"Of course he is not; you would soon know it to your cost if he were.

The place of your rendezvous is somewhat too near civilization for him; you should, however, change it; never meet twice in the same place, if you can."

"You are reaping a tolerably good harvest here, I suppose. Do they ever place you in a difficulty?"

"Difficulty! G.o.d help you; there is not an individual among them, or throughout the whole parish, with whose persons, circ.u.mstances, and characters I am not acquainted; but even if it were not so, I could make them give me unconsciously the very information they want--returned to them, of course, in a new shape. I make them state the facts, and I draw the inferences; nothing is easier; it is a trick that every impostor is master of. How do you proceed with Miss Goodwin?"

"That matter is hopeless by fair means--she's in love with that d----d brother of mine."

"No chance of the property, then?"

"Not as affairs stand at present; we must, however, maintain our intimacy; if so, I won't despair yet."

"But what do you intend to do? If she marries your brother the property goes to him--and you may go whistle."

"I don't give it up, though--I bear a brain still, I think; but the truth is, I have not completed my plan of operations. What I am to do, I know not yet exactly. If I could break off the match between her and my brother, she might probably, through the influence of her parents and other causes, he persuaded into a reluctant marriage with Harry Woodward; time, however, will tell, and I must only work my way through the difficulty as well as I can. I will now leave you, and I don't think I shall be able to see you again for a week to come."

"Before you go let me ask if you know a vagabond called Ranting Rody, who goes about through the country living no one knows how?"

"No, I do not know him; what is he?"

"He's nothing except a paramour of Caterine Collins's, who, you know, is a rival of ours; n.o.body here knows anything about him, whilst he, it appears, knows every one and everything."

"He would make a good conjurer," replied Woodward, smiling.

"If the fellow could be depended on," replied the other, "he might be useful; in fact, I am of opinion that if he wished he could trace _Shawn-na-Middogue's_ haunts. The scoundrel attempted just now to impose upon me in the dress of a woman, and, were it not that I knew him so well, he might have got my beard stripped from my face, and my bones broken besides; but I feel confident that if any one could trace and secure the outlaw, he could--I mean with proper a.s.sistance. Think of this."

"I shall find him out," replied Woodward, "and sound him, at all events, and I think through Caterine Collins I may possibly secure him; but we must be cautious. Good-by; I wish you success!"

After which he pa.s.sed through the crowd, exclaiming,

"A wonderful man--an astonis.h.i.+ng man--and a fearful man; that is if he be a man, which I very much doubt."

CHAPTER XII. Fortune-telling

Ever since the night of the bonfire Woodward's character became involved more or less in a mystery that was peculiar to the time and the superst.i.tions of the period. That he possessed, the Evil Eye was whispered about; and what was still more strange, it was not his wish that such rumors should be suppressed. They had not yet, however, reached either Alice Goodwin or her parents. In the meantime the feelings of the two families were once more suspended in a kind of neutral opposition, each awaiting the other to make the first advance.

Poor Alice, however, appeared rather declining in health and spirits, for, notwithstanding her firm and generous defence of Charles Lindsay, his brother, to a certain extent, succeeded in shaking her confidence in his attachment. Her parents; frequently asked her the cause of her apparent melancholy, but she only gave them evasive replies, and stated that she had not felt herself very well since Henry Woodward's last interview with her.