Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins Part 97

His prophecy and wish were thus fulfilled.[1]

[Footnote 1: These details are strictly accurate.]

IV.

GARROTED.

When I left Mr. John M. Daniel it was past ten at night, and designing to set out early in the morning for Petersburg, I bent my steps toward home.

The night was not however to pa.s.s without adventures of another character.

I was going along Governor Street, picking my way by the light of the few gas-lamps set far apart and burning dimly, when all at once I heard a cry in front, succeeded by the noise of a scuffle, and then by a heavy fall.

Hastening forward I reached the spot, which was not far from the City Hall; and a glance told me all.

A wayfarer had been garroted; that is to say, suddenly attacked while pa.s.sing along, by one of the night-birds who then infested the streets after dark; seized from behind; throttled, and thrown violently to the ground--the object of the a.s.sailant being robbery.

When I reached the spot the robber was still struggling with his victim, who, stretched beneath him on the ground, uttered frightful cries. One hand of the garroter was on his throat, the other was busily rifling his pockets.

I came up just in time to prevent a murder, but not to disappoint the robber. As I appeared he hastily rose, releasing the throat of the unfortunate citizen. I saw a watch gleam in his hand; he bestowed a violent kick on his prostrate victim;--then he disappeared running, and was in an instant lost in the darkness.

I saw that pursuit would be useless; and n.o.body ever thought, at that period, of attempting to summon the police. I turned to a.s.sist the victim, who all at once rose from the ground, uttering groans and cries.

The lamp-light shone upon his face. It was the worthy Mr. Blocque--Mr.

Blocque, emitting howls of anguis.h.!.+ Mr. Blocque, shaking his clenched hands, and maligning all created things! Mr. Blocque, devoting, with loud curses and imprecations, the a.s.sembled wisdom of the "city fathers," and the entire police force of the Confederate capital, to the infernal deities!

"I am robbed--murdered!" screamed the little Jewish-looking personage, in a shrill falsetto which resembled the shriek of a furious old woman, "robbed! rifled!--stripped of every thing!--garroted!--my money taken!--I had ten thousand dollars in gold and greenbacks on my person!--not a Confederate note in the whole pack--not one! gold and greenbacks!--two watches!---I am ruined! I will expose the police! I was going to my house like a quiet citizen! I was harming n.o.body! and I am to be set on and robbed of my honest earnings by a highwayman --choked, strangled, knocked down, my pockets picked, my money taken --and this in the capital of the Confederacy, under the nose of the police!"

It was a shrill squeak which I heard--something unutterably ludicrous.

I could scarce forbear laughing, as I looked at the little blockade-runner, with disordered hair, dirty face, torn clothes, and bleeding nose, uttering curses, and moaning in agony over the loss of his "honest earnings!"

I consoled him in the best manner I could, and asked him if he had lost every thing. That question seemed to arouse him. He felt hastily in his pockets,--and then at the result my eyes opened wide. Thrusting his hand into a secret pocket, he drew forth an enormous roll of greenbacks, and I could see the figures "100" on each of the notes as he ran over them. That bundle alone must have contained several thousands of dollars. But the worthy Mr. Blocque did not seem in the least consoled.

"He got _the other bundle_!" shrieked the victim, still in his wild falsetto; "it was ten thousand dollars--I had just received it this evening--I am robbed!--they are going to murder me!--Where is the police!--murder!"

I laid my hand upon his arm.

"You have lost a very considerable sum," I said, "but--you may lose more still."

And I pointed to the roll of bank notes in his hand, with a significant glance. At these words he started.

"You are right, colonel!" he said, hastily; "I may be attacked again! I may be robbed of all--they may finish me! I will get home as quickly as I can! Thank you, colonel! you have saved me from robbery and murder!

Come and see me, colonel. Come and dine with me, my dear sir! At five, precisely!"

And Mr. Blocque commenced running wildly toward a place of safety.

In a moment he had disappeared, and I found myself alone--laughing heartily.

V.

THE CLOAKED WOMAN.

"Well," I said, as I walked on, "this is a charming adventure and conveys a tolerably good idea of the city of Richmond, after dark, in the year 1864. Our friend Blocque is garroted, and robbed of his 'honest earnings,' at one fell swoop by a footpad! The worthy citizen is waylaid; his pockets rifled; his life desolated. All the proceeds of a life of virtuous industry have disappeared. Terrible condition of things!--awful times when a good citizen can not go home to his modest supper of canvas-backs and champagne, without being robbed by----his brother robber!"

Indulging in these reflections, not unaccompanied with smiles, I continued my way, with little fear, myself, of pickpockets or garroters. Those gentry were intelligent. They were never known to attack people with gray coats--they knew better! They attacked the black coats, in the pockets of which they suspected the presence of greenbacks and valuable papers; never the gray coats, where they would find only a frayed "leave of absence" for their pains!

I thus banished the whole affair from my mind; but it had aroused and excited me. I did not feel at all sleepy; and finding, by a glance at my watch beneath a lamp, that it was only half past ten, I resolved to go and ask after the health of my friend, Mr. X-----, whose house was only a square or two off.

This resolution I proceeded at once to carry out. A short walk brought me to the house, half buried in its shrubbery; but as I approached I saw a carriage was standing before the house.

Should I make my visit then, or postpone it? Mr. X----- evidently had company. Or had the carriage brought a visitor to some other member of the household? Mr. X----- was only a boarder, and I might be mistaken in supposing that _he_ was engaged at the moment.

As these thoughts pa.s.sed through my mind, I approached the gate in the iron railing. The carriage was half hidden by the shadow of the elms, which grew in a row along the sidewalk. On the box sat a motionless figure. The vehicle and driver were as still and silent as if carved out of ebony.

"Decidedly I will discover," I said, and opening the gate I turned into the winding path through the shrubbery, which led toward the rear of the house; that is to say, toward the private entrance to the room of Mr. X-----.

Suddenly, as I pa.s.sed through the shadowy shrubs, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I started back, and unconsciously felt for some weapon.

"Don't shoot me, colonel!" said a voice in the darkness, "I am a friend."

I recognized the voice of Nighthawk.

"Good heavens! my dear Nighthawk," I said, drawing a long breath of relief, "you are enough to make Alonzo the Brave, himself, tremble? You turn up everywhere, and especially in the dark! What are you doing here?"

"I am watching, colonel," said Nighthawk, with benignant sweetness.

"Watching?"

"And waiting."

"Waiting for whom?"

"For a lady with whom you have the honor of being acquainted."

"A lady--?"

"That one you last saw in the lonely house near Monk's Neck. Hus.h.!.+ here she comes."

His voice had sunk to a whisper, and he drew me into the shrubbery, as a long bar of light, issuing from the door in the rear of the house, ran out into the night.