Spring Heeled Jack | Page 7

than a
ducking.
And it is very probable that this did him more good than harm, as it

served to restore his somewhat scattered thoughts.
By the time Jack Dacre had managed to clamber oat of the moat, Black
Ralph had put a considerable distance between himself and Dacre Hall.
He had got his share of the booty, and whether Master Jack survived
the fall or not mattered little to him.
He could rely upon Michael Dacre's promise that the lugger should be
waiting for him at Newhaven, and once in France he could soon find a
melting-pot for his treasure, and live, for a time at least, a life of riotous
extravagance.
When Jack reached the house he found the hall door open, and without
fear he entered; bent upon going straight to his cousin's room and
informing him of what had happened.
Before he could reach the corridor which contained the state bedroom
in which Michael Dacre had ensconced himself, Jack heard a low--
"Hist!"
He turned round and saw Ned Chump beckoning to him and pointing to
the flight of stairs that led to their common chamber, and from thence
to the bell tower.
Our hero having perfect confidence in his sailor friend obeyed the
signal.
When the two were safely seated in their bedroom, Ned said, eagerly--
"Tell me, boy, what has happened?"
In a very few words Jack told him.
"My eye!" ejaculated Ned with a low whistle, "that was a jump indeed."
Then he continued--

"But who was your assailant? Could you not see his face?"
"No; it was too dark," replied Jack; "but there was a something about
his figure that seemed familiar to me."
"Yes, lad, there was," said honest Ned Chump. "I met the ruffian but
now, making the best of his way to Newhaven, no doubt."
"Who was it?" asked the lad.
"Why that poaching scoundrel, Black Ralph," answered Ned; "and you
may depend upon it that your worthy cousin has laid this plant to kill
you, and so prevent any chance of a bother about the property."
"What had I better do?" asked Jack. "I will act entirely under your
advice."
"Well, my boy," said Ned, "take no notice; let matters take their course.
We are sure to find out something or other in the morning."
And the two firm friends carefully fastened their door and turned in to
rest.
In the morning the alarm of the robbery was given, but neither Jack nor
Ned uttered one word to indicate that they knew aught about it.
"How did you get in?" asked Michael Dacre, roughly, as he turned
towards Chump.
The would-be baronet's rage at the appearance of Jack Dacre unharmed,
although his plate-chest (as he chose to consider it) had been ransacked,
knew no bounds.
But Ned had his answer ready.
"I thought the door was left open for me, sir," he said, "so I simply
entered and bolted the door behind me, and made my way up to bed."
"This is indeed a mysterious affair," said Michael Dacre, "but I have

reasons of my own for not letting the officers of justice know about this
affair. I have my suspicions as to who the guilty party is, and I think, if
all is kept quiet, I can see my way to recovering my lost plate."
"Your lost plate!" said Jack, contemptuously. "Say, rather, my lost
plate."
"I thought that subject was to be tabooed between us until Mr. Morgan
arrives with the proofs of your identity, or imposture, as the case may
be."
"Very well, sir," replied Jack; "so be it. But I cannot help thinking that
Mr. Morgan ought to have arrived long before this."
However, in due course the long-looked for one arrived.
But instead of coming straight on to Dacre Hall, as one would have
expected a trustworthy agent to have done, he took up his quarters at
the Dacre Arms, and sent word to Michael Dacre that Mr. Alfred
wanted to see hint on important business.
The message, of course, was a written one, as the people belonging to
the inn would have thought it strange had an unknown man sent such a
message to one so powerful as Michael Dacre was now making himself
out to be.
In an hour's time the two men were seated over a bottle of brandy,
discussing the position of affairs.
"And if I prove to the law's satisfaction--never mind about yours, for
you know the truth--that the boy is illegitimate, what is to be my
share?"
"A thousand pounds," said Michael.
"A thousand fiddlesticks," replied Morgan, grinding his teeth. "Without
my aid you are a penniless beggar, kicked out of Dacre Hall; and with
no profession to turn your hands to. Make it worth my while, and what

are you?