Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks - Bracebridge Hemyng (10 ebook reader .txt) 📗

fiend's name does this mean?" gasped the coiner.

"It means that you are my prisoner."

"Prisoner."

"Yes."

"Then who are you?"

"You have known me as Clermont, but my real name is Delamarre."

"The detective?"

"The same."

The coiner gave a hasty look round the apartment, and then made a step towards the door.

But it instantly opened, and there appeared a police officer in uniform, who said—

"If you attempt to pass this door, you are a dead man."

The window!

It was not very high above the roadway, and one bold leap might yet bring liberty.

But, as if reading his very thoughts, Delamarre gave one of those peculiar raps on the table, which was again echoed from without, and instantly the figure of a policeman armed with a revolver was seen filling the casement.

The chimney!

That he knew was crossed by strong bars. No exit that way.

"Sit down, Pierre Lenoir."

The detective was provokingly cool, and the coiner gnashed his teeth with rage.

"Sit down, man; why, you ought to feel proud at being taken so neatly."

"Curse you!"

"Never mind. I have the finest and easiest pair of wristbands any gentleman in your line of business ever wore. Let me try them on."

Lenoir for a moment contemplated resistance, but two revolvers were close to his head, so second thoughts prevailed.

He was firmly handcuffed.

"Now, Pierre," said the detective, "listen to me, and I will quickly prove that I am a far better friend than you think me."

The coiner smiled a bitter smile.

"Of course it doesn't look so; but listen."

"I am compelled to," replied Lenoir.

"You can clear these English prisoners."

"If I choose to speak."

"If you choose to speak, the English consul will exert all his influence to procure a mitigation of your sentence—whatever it may be."

Lenoir nodded.

"But if you do not, why, the whole force of the British Embassy will be exerted against you; so I fancy your choice will soon be made."

Lenoir sat silent for some minutes.

"Have you made up your mind?" asked the detective at length.

"I don't see why I should speak; they belong to the same cursed country as that Markby."

"Well, don't you see how nicely things come round? You clear the prisoners, and by so doing incriminate Markby, alias Murray."

"Aye; but where is he?"

"In Marseilles. I am only waiting for a little more evidence before I lay my hands on him. He is a slippery customer, and it won't do to arrest him until the case is complete."

"Then, curse him, I'll tell all—nay, more, if you look in that drawer, where the pistols are, you know, you will find a note from him to me. That will be quite as good evidence as my word."

"Good, Lenoir. I can't promise you a free pardon, but I fancy you will get off lightly."

"I hope I may be sent to the same galley as Murray, alias Markby, has to serve; and if I am only chained to the same oar I shall be happy."

"Why."

"I will find an early opportunity, and then I will kill him."

"No, Lenoir; that will not be the way to shorten your sentence."

"I'll kill him."

"No; lead him a life of misery and dread while he is chained to the oar. What you do when you are both released is a matter I have no present concern with."

"March, then; let us be going."

And the coiner walked gaily away, his anger at being captured having been replaced by joy, at the hopes of avenging himself on the treacherous Markby, alias Murray.

Hocquart Clermont Delamarre himself walked arm-in-arm with the coiner, and the good people of Marseilles knew not that he had been taken.

Even in the gaol he was entered under an assumed name.

The gaoler, who had been in attendance on the English party, could not understand why his prisoners wrote no more letters to the English consul or their relatives in England, and Herbert Murray almost suspected the truth when he chanced, the day after losing the letter, to look for it.

But Chivey reassured him.

"I went all over your clothes and my own this morning afore you was up, guv'nor, and burnt every one of the letters I could find."

"What for?" demanded Murray.

"In case of accidents. It would not do us any good to have them things found on us; and nobody ever knows what is going to turn up."

CHAPTER CIV.

THE ESCORT—THE TRIAL.

"Marseilles at last!" exclaimed Dick Harvey, as the train came to a standstill.

"I thought we were never to end our journey," said little Emily.

However, they quickly got clear of the railway station, engaged apartments at an hotel, and then, without waiting to eat or drink, made their way towards the gaol.

"I wonder what house that is with the Union Jack flying over it," said Mrs. Harkaway, as they passed along a street near the harbour.

"The British consulate very likely," said her husband "We had better call there."

But the consul was not at home.

"Do you know where he is gone?" asked Harvey of the servant.

"Why, sir, there are some Englishmen to be tried to-day for coining, and he is gone to watch the case."

"To-day?"

"Yes, sir; in fact, the trial will commence in ten minutes," replied the man, after consulting his watch.

"Where does the trial take place?"

"The second turning on the left, sir. The hall of justice is a large building just round the corner."

"Come along, then," said Harkaway; "there is no time to lose."

They hurried along the street at a rate that made the French people stare.

Paquita was the first of the party to turn the corner, and she had no sooner done so than she exclaimed—

"There they are."

And running between a file of soldiers, threw her arms round Harry Girdwood's neck.

Little Emily would have followed her example, but the officer in charge of the escort would not permit any such irregular conduct, and Paquita was compelled to rejoin her friends.

"Hurrah, dad!" exclaimed young Jack; "I knew you would turn up in time. And, mamma, how pale you are looking."

"Can you wonder at it, my boy, considering the anxiety we have all suffered?"

"Mr. Mole, Mr. Mole," exclaimed Dick Harvey, shaking his head, "I am surprised indeed to hear that you have taken to counterfeit coining."

"Harvey, this is really no joking matter," replied Mole.

"No, it will be no joke when you are chained to the oar in one of those galleys down in the harbour."

"Stand back, ladies and gentlemen, if you please," exclaimed the officer commanding the escort. "I cannot allow any communication with my prisoners."

So they were obliged to keep at a distance.

At that moment a portly, elderly gentleman, who had been watching the scene, came up, saying—

"Have I the honour of addressing Mr. Harkaway?"

"That is my name, sir."

"I am the English consul."

Our old hero at once seized him by the hand, saying—

"Sir, words are powerless to express how grateful I am for your interference on behalf of my boy."

"Don't mention it, sir, I only did as I am instructed to do in all such cases."

"But about the trial; what chance does that young scapegrace stand?"

"There is very little doubt that he will be acquitted, as we have the best of evidence in his favour. But come along, sir, let us get into court."

The consul led the way into the hall of justice, and placed the Harkaway party among the audience in such a position that they could see all that was going on, without being conspicuous themselves.

Then they waited patiently till the judge arrived.

While our young hero's father and friends were thus entering Marseilles, two people were trying to leave that city.

These were Herbert Murray and his friend Chivey.

"There ain't no use in stoppin' 'ere, guv'nor," the latter had said. "We can see by the papers what they gets."

"You are right, Chivey; we will get away for a time."

"We can come back an' see 'em when they are fairly fixed, you know."

"Well, pack up, and we'll just take a trip to Paris for a week."

Their portmanteaus were quickly got ready, and a vehicle was engaged to take them to the railway station.

But when they alighted, and were about to take their tickets, a very polite police officer tapped Murray on the shoulder, and said—

"I much regret to have to ask monsieur to postpone his journey."

"What?"

"I must request Monsieur to defer his visit to Paris till after the trial of the English coiners."

"What has that to do with me?"

"The judge may desire your presence, monsieur; he may wish to hear your evidence."

"Nonsense!"

"It may be; but I am compelled to say that I cannot permit you to leave Marseilles to-day, and I must request you to accompany me back to the hall of justice."

"We are prisoners, then?"

"By no means. Only the law requires your presence, and the law, you know, must be obeyed, monsieur?"

Chivey had not taken part in the conversation, but had been looking round for a good chance of escaping.

"You, of course, will accompany your friend?" said the detective, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Must, I suppose," responded Chivey, who noticed several other policeman were loitering about the station.

So, with a very bad grace, the two intending excursionists walked back to the hall of justice.

The English prisoners had already been brought into the hall, and the trial had commenced.

It certainly seemed at first that our young hero had got himself into a bad fix, for the evidence was much against him.

The police had captured them in Lenoir's workshop.

They had been seen in conversation with him not only there, but at the café the police had been warned of their nefarious doings and so forth.

"Have you any witnesses to call, prisoner?" ask the judge, addressing young Jack.

"Yes, Monsieur le Juge; and the first of them is Pierre Lenoir. Let him be called."

"What folly is this?" demanded the judge, sternly.

"I ask that Pierre Lenoir shall be summoned to give evidence," repeated young Jack, who had been told by Delamarre what line of defence to adopt.

"Do you think he will respond if called?"

"If he does not respond, I shall derive no benefit from his evidence."

"Let Pierre Lenoir be called," said the judge, rather angrily.

And Pierre Lenoir was called by an officer of the court.

"Here!"

The answer was clear and distinct.

And the next moment Pierre Lenoir, escorted by two gensdarmes, marched into the court-room.

Chivey touched Murray on the arm, and both had an idea of sneaking away.

But the polite and attentive officer who had brought them back from the railway, stood in the doorway, and was evidently watching them.

In fact, he spoke to them.

"Things are getting interesting, gentlemen," said he; "it was worth losing a train to see such a dramatic trial as this promises to be."

"Interferes with our business, rather."

"Not so much, monsieur. But hush!"

The evidence of Pierre Lenoir was then taken.

The public prosecutor objected at first to his evidence; but it was urged by the counsel for the defence that although accused of many offences, he was at present convicted of none, and therefore was entitled to full credence.

"Your name is Pierre Lenoir?" asked Jack's counsel.

"It is."

"Do you know the prisoners?"

"But slightly."

"Say when you met them."

"I met them at my own house where they came by invitation to see some specimens of my skill as a medal engraver."

"Did those Englishmen assist you in any way to pass counterfeit coin?"

"Neither of those Englishmen; but that man did."

And turning half round, he pointed at the wretched Murray, alias Markby.

And at the same time the affable police officer drew nearer, smiling more blandly than ever.

"'Tis false!" shrieked the wretched Murray.

"The public must maintain silence in the court," said the judge.

"It's a base lie!" exclaimed Murray.

"The officer of the court will arrest the disorderly person."

The smiling gendarme at once swooped down on his prey.

"That man," continued Lenoir, "not only passed bad money for me, but he persuaded me that the prisoners would do so also. But when I introduced myself and tried to get them to join me, they absolutely refused."

The public prosecutor tried in vain to shake his story, but he positively adhered to every word he had spoken.

Then Harkaway senior was called upon, and he in conjunction with the banker proved that there was no need