Spring Heeled Jack | Page 8

Why Sir Michael Dacre, the owner of this fine estate, and one
of the most powerful landowners in this part of the county of Sussex. A
thousand pounds--bah!"
The would-be owner of Dacre Hall looked aghast at Morgan's
vehemence, and with an imploring gesture he placed his finger on his
lip and pointed at the door.
Then under his breath he muttered--
"Five thousand, then?"
"No, not five thousand, nor yet ten thousand," said Morgan.
"Now look you here, Mr. Michael Dacre," he went on with a strong
emphasis upon the prefix.
"Now look here--my only terms are these: You to take the Dacre estates
in England, and I to have the Indian plantations. That's my ultimatum.
Answer, 'yes' or 'no.'"
For an instant Michael Dacre hesitated, but he saw no hope in the cold
grey eye of Alfred Morgan, and at last consented.
The two now separated, but met again the following day, when the
necessary agreements were signed, and Mr. Alfred retired to Brighton
to make his appearance two days later as Mr. Alfred Morgan, the
Indian representative of the late Sir Sidney Dacre.
"My poor boy," he said, sympathetically, when he first met our hero.
"My poor boy, this is a terrible blow for you."
"What do you mean?" asked Jack; "it was a terrible blow to me when
my father and my mother went down in the Hydaspes--but Time, the
great Healer, has softened that blow so that I should hardly feel it now,
were it not for the doubts that my cousin here has cast upon my
identity."
"Ah! of your identity there can be no doubt, poor boy," sighed Alfred

Morgan; "and that's where lies the pity of it."
"How do you mean?" cried Jack, an angry flush mantling his handsome
features.
"How do mean, poor boy?" went on the merciless scoundrel. "Why, the
pity of it is that, although I know so well that you are the son of your
father and mother, the law refuses to recognise you as such."
"And why?" yelled Jack, with a sudden and overwhelming outburst of
fury.
"Because," meekly replied the villain, "your father and mother were
never married."
"But," cried Jack, thoroughly taken aback by this assertion, "you were
the witness to the marriage. I have heard my father say so scores of
times."
"Aye, my poor lad; but your mother had a husband living at the time,"
and Mr. Alfred handed a bundle of papers to the family solicitor, who
had not yet spoken, the whole conversation having taken place between
Jack and Mr. Alfred Morgan.
A silence like that of the tomb fell upon the fell upon the occupants of
the room as the lawyer examined the papers.
Ten minutes or a quarter of an hour passed, then, with a sigh, the
kind-hearted solicitor turned to Jack and said, with tears in his--
"Alas, my lad; it is too true; you have no right to the name of Dacre."
Without a word Jack caught hold of Ned's hand, and, turning to his
cousin, said, in a voice of thunder--
"There is some villainy here, which, please Heaven, I will yet unravel.
Once already you have tried to murder my body, now you are trying to
murder my mother's reputation; but as I escaped from the first plot by a
clean pair of heels and a good spring from the bell tower, so on

occasion I feel that I shall eventually conquer. Come, Ned, we will
leave this, and make our plans for the future."
"Aye, Master Spring-Heels, make yourself scarce, or I will have you
lashed and kicked from the door, you wretched impostor!"
"Yes, cousin, I will go," answered Jack, impressively; "and I will
accept the name you have given me, as you say I have no right to any
other. But, beware! false Sir Michael Dacre, the time will come, and
that ere long, when the tortures of the damned shall be implanted in
your heart by me--the wretched, despised outcast whom you have
christened Spring-Heeled-Jack!"
As our hero uttered these words Michael Dacre's cheek paled visibly.
And indeed there was good cause for his apparent fear.
Jack Dacre had thrown such an amount of expression into his words
and gestures as seemed to render them truly prophetic.
At this moment Mr. Reece, the solicitor, advanced towards Jack and,
holding out a well filled purse to him, said--
"Take this, my lad; it shall never be said that Sam Reece allowed the
son of his old playmate, Sid Dacre, to be turned out of house and home
without a penny in his pocket, legitimate or not."
Jack, responding to a nudge from Ned Chump, took the purse and
said--
"Thank you, sir, for your kindness. That there is some villainy afloat I
am convinced,