CHAPTER LVIII.
A ROUGH RECEPTION—THE JEW ON HIS TRAVELS—ANDY, THE MANIAC LOVER, MEETS BARNABAS.
In selecting Barnabas as an especial messenger to Darlington, Colonel Blood showed good judgment, for on more than one occasion the Jew had ridden eighty miles in ten hours.
But Ellen’s friends had also selected a swift messenger, and a much faster one than the Jew could ever prove to be.
The messenger was nothing else than a carrier pigeon.
In those days, when coaches were slow and letters unsafe for robbers, gentlemen always had by them a number of trained pigeons, who carried messages to and from their country seats.
When, therefore, Sir Richard had found out who Ellen Harmer really was, he wrote a note, sent Tim up to the dormer to catch a pigeon, and, having tied the note to its neck, he threw it off, and away it went with lightning speed to its favourite home—Darlington Hall.
Hence the Jew had not gone far on his journey, when the pigeon, with its important message, arrived at Darlington Hall.
It was speedily caught, and the note, as directed, was immediately delivered to Miller Harmer, and read thus:—
“My dear friend Harmer,—I am happy to inform you that, through the agency of my young scapegrace nephew, Ned Warbeck, we have discovered your daughter Ellen, who was abducted some time ago. Come up to town at once, as speedily as possible, for business of great importance demands it.“Yours in haste,“Richard Warbeck.“P.S.—Do not, on any account, whisper a word of your business to any one, but maintain the strictest silence in the village and on the road. R. W.”
“My dear friend Harmer,—I am happy to inform you that, through the agency of my young scapegrace nephew, Ned Warbeck, we have discovered your daughter Ellen, who was abducted some time ago. Come up to town at once, as speedily as possible, for business of great importance demands it.
“Yours in haste,“Richard Warbeck.
“P.S.—Do not, on any account, whisper a word of your business to any one, but maintain the strictest silence in the village and on the road. R. W.”
Miller Harmer, the same hour in which the note arrived, mounted the fleetest horse at Darlington Hall, and set out on his journey to London at a giddy gallop.
He passed the disguised Jew upon the road, who asked the way to Darlington.
“Do you know any one in the village of the name of Harmer?” asked the Jew.
“Yes, I do,” answered the miller, with a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Why do you ask?”
“He lost a daughter once?”
“He did.”
“Yes, poor man, it was a great affliction, wasn’t it?”
“No doubt,” said the miller, biting his lips. “Are you journeying to Darlington with any news of her?”
“Yes; that is to say, I thought I’d call and inform her father that she is well, happy and married.”
“Very kind of you, certainly,” said the miller.
“Which is his house?”
“Down by the mill-dam.”
“Do you think he would give me a warm reception?”
“No doubt of it, he couldn’t do otherwise to one who has put himself out of the way to oblige him as you have.”
“Thank you, good day,” said the Jew.
“Good day,” said the miller, with a trembling lip.
And the horsemen parted company.
For many weary miles the Jew travelled on through sleet, and wind, and rain.
The storm was very severe, and the clouds were rolling with heavy thunder.
It was towards eleven o’clock at night when Barnabas came near to the village of Darlington.
He had ridden far, and was weak and weary.
The rain poured down in torrents, and the night was so dark he could scarcely see ten yards before him.
Fearful of losing his way, he determined to call and enquire at a cottage close by.
He knocked at the door loudly with his riding whip, and the door was opened by an aged woman.
“What do you want, kind sir?” she asked.
“My way to Darlington.”
“The right-hand road, sir, is the nearest,”
“Do you know Miller Harmer?.”
“I do.”
“And his daughter?”
“Yes, sir; why?”
“I came to inform him that his daughter Ellen—”
“That’s him! that’s him!” roared some one inside the cottage.
In an instant Andy, the maniac, rushed out to the cabin door, a heavy club in hand. (See cut in No. 20.)
“That’s him! that’s him!” roared Andy, in a frightful passion, at the same time he seized the horse by the reins and dealt the unfortunate Jew three or four such terrible blows as knocked him off his horse into the muddy road.
Barnabas was stunned, and bled freely.
He would have been killed on the spot by the maniac but that several villagers passing by disarmed him, and led the youth, raving, back to the cottage.
When the villagers returned to the spot, Barnabas had mounted his horse again, with great difficulty, and galloped into the village of Darlington, as if ten thousand demons were at his heels.