The day after this the doctor reported No. 19--this was Robinson--to be sinking, and on this Hawes put him to garden work. The man's life and reason were saved by that little bit of labour. Then for a day or two he was employed in washing the corridors, and in making brushes; after that, came the crank. This was a machine consisting of a vertical post with an iron handle, and it was worked as villagers draw a bucket up from a well.

"Eighteen hundred revolutions per hour, and two hours before dinner,"

was the order given to No. 19, a touch of fever a few days later made it impossible for him to get through his task, and Hawes brutally had the unfortunate prisoner placed in the jacket.

This horrible form of torture consisted of a stout waistcoat, with a rough-edged collar. Robinson knew resistance was useless. He was jammed in the jacket, pinned tight to the collar, and throttled in the collar.

Weakened by fever, he succ.u.mbed sooner than the torturers had calculated upon, and a few minutes later No. 19 would have been a corpse if he had not been released.

Water was dashed over him, and then Hawes shouted: "I never was beat by a prisoner yet, and I never will be," and had him put back again. Every time he fainted, water was thrown over him.

The plan pursued by the governor with Robinson was to keep him low so that he failed at the crank, and then torture him in the jacket. "He will break out before long," said Hawes to himself, "and then--"

Robinson saw the game, and a deep hatred of his enemy fought on the side of his prudence. This bitter struggle in the thief's heart harmed his soul more than all the years of burglary and petty larceny. All the vices of the old gaol system were nothing compared with the diabolical effect of solitude on a heart smarting with daily wrongs. He made a desperate appeal to the chaplain: "We have no friends here, sir, but you--not one. Have pity on us."

But Mr. Jones, the chaplain, was a weak man--unequal to the task of standing between the prisoners and their torturers, the justices and governor, and he held out no hope to No. 19.

Robinson now became a far worse man. He hated the human race, and said to himself, "From this hour I speak no more to any of these beasts!"

It was then that Mr. Jones, unequal to his task, resigned his office, and a new chaplain, the Rev. Francis Eden, took his place.

Mr. Eden, having ascertained the effects of both the black-hole and the punishment jacket, at once began a strenuous battle for the prisoners, and in the end triumphed handsomely. Hawes, in the face of an official inquiry by the Home Office, threw up the governorship, and a more humane regime was inst.i.tuted in the gaol.

For a time Robinson resisted all the advances of the new chaplain, but when Mr. Eden came to him in the black-hole, and cheered him through the darkness and solitude by talking to him, not only was Robinson's sanity preserved,--the man's heart was touched, and from that hour he was sworn to honesty.

Then came the time for Robinson to be transported to Australia, with the promise of an early ticket-of-leave. Mr. Eden, anxious for the man's future, thought of George Fielding. Taking Sunday duty in the parish where Merton and his neighbours lived, Mr. Eden had become acquainted with Susan, and had learnt her story. He now wrote to her: "Thomas Robinson goes to Australia next week; he will get a ticket-of-leave almost immediately. I have thought of George Fielding, and am sure that poor Robinson with such a companion would be as honest as the day, and a useful friend, for he is full of resources. So I want you to do a Christian act, and write a note to Mr. Fielding, and let this poor fellow take it to him."

Susan's letter came by return of post. Robinson sailed in the convict ship for Australia, and in due time was released. He found George Fielding at Bathurst recovering from fever, and the letter from Susan, and his own readiness to help, soon revived the old good feeling between the two men.

_III.--Between Australia and Berkshire_

Meadows, having the postmaster at Farnborough under his thumb, read all George's letters to Susan before they were delivered. As long as George was in difficulties--and the thousand pounds seemed as far off as ever until Tom Robinson struck gold and shared the luck with his partner--the letters gave Meadows no uneasiness. With the discovery of gold he decided Susan must hear no more from her lover, and that Fielding must not return. By this time, old Merton was heavily in debt to Meadows, and saw escape from bankruptcy only in Meadows becoming his son-in-law, while Susan was kindly disposed to Meadows because he said nothing of love, and was willing to talk about Australia.

Meadows confided his plan to Peter Crawley.

"My plan has two hands; I must be one, you the other. _I_ work thus: I stop all letters from him to her. Presently comes a letter from Australia telling how George Fielding has made his fortune and married a girl out there. She won't believe it at first, perhaps, but when she gets no more letters from him she will. Of course, I shall never mention his name, but I make one of my tools hang gaol over old Merton. Susan thinks George married. I strike upon her pique and her father's distress. I ask him for his daughter; offer to pay my father-in-law's debts and start him afresh. Susan likes me already. She will say no, perhaps, three or four times, but the fifth she will say yes. Crawley, the day that John and Susan Meadows walk out of church man and wife I put a thousand pounds into your hand and set you up in any business you like; in any honest business, that is. But suppose, Crawley, while I am working, this George Fielding were to come home with money in both pockets?"

"He would kick it all down in a moment."

"Crawley, George Fielding must not come back this year with a thousand pounds. That paper will prevent him; it is a paper of instructions. My very brains lie in that paper; put it in your pocket. You are going a journey, and you will draw on me for one hundred pounds per month."

"When am I to start, sir? Where am I to go to?"

"To-morrow morning. To Australia."

A dead silence on both sides followed these words, as the two colourless faces looked into one another's eyes across the table.

To Australia Peter Crawley went, and with half-a-dozen of the most villainous ruffians on earth in his pay, it seemed impossible for Fielding and Robinson to escape. But here the ex-thief's alertness came to George Fielding's aid, and the two men managed to get the better of all the robbers and a.s.sa.s.sins who attacked their tent. Robinson, in fact, not only saved his own and his partner's lives, by common consent he was elected captain at the gold-diggings, and by his authority some sort of law and order were established throughout the camp, and all thefts were heavily punished.

The finding of a large nugget by Robinson ended gold-digging for these two men. The nugget was taken to Sydney and fetched 3,800, and when Crawley, who had pursued them from the camp, reached the city, he found they had already sailed for England.

George Fielding went to Australia to make 1,000, and by industry, sobriety, and cattle, he did not make 1,000; but, with the help of a converted thief, he did by gold-digging, industry, and sobriety, make several thousand pounds, and take them safe away home, spite of many wicked devices and wicked men.

Mr. Meadows flung out Peter Crawley, his left hand, into Australia to keep George from coming back to Susan with 1,000, and his left hand failed, and failed completely. But his right hand?

_IV.--George Fielding's Return_

One market day a whisper pa.s.sed through Farnborough that George Fielding had met with wonderful luck. That he had made his fortune by gold, and was going to marry a young lady out in Australia. Farmer Merton brought the whisper home; Meadows was sure he would.

When eight months had elapsed without a letter from George, Susan could no longer deceive herself with hopes. George was either false to her or dead. She said as much to Meadows, and this inspired him with the idea of setting about a report that George was dead. Susan's mind had long been prepared for bitter tidings, and when old Merton tried in a clumsy way to prepare her for sad news, she fixed her eyes on him, and said, "Father, George is dead."

Old Merton hung his head, and made no reply. Susan crept from the room pale as ashes.

Then Meadows contradicted this report, and showed a letter he had received, saying that "George Fielding was married yesterday to one of the prettiest girls in Sydney. I met them walking in the street to-day."

"He is alive!" Susan said. "Thank G.o.d he is alive. I will not cry for another woman's husband."

It was not pique that made Susan accept John Meadows, it was to save her father from ruin. She said plainly that she could not pretend affection, and that it was only her indifference that made her consent. She tried to give happiness, and to avoid giving pain, but her heart of hearts was inaccessible.

The return of Crawley with the news that Fielding and Robinson were at hand, drove Meadows to persuade Susan to hasten the marriage. The following Monday had been fixed, Susan agreed to let it take place the preceding Thursday.

The next thing was Meadows himself recognised Fielding and Robinson; they were staying the night at the King's Head, in Farnborough, where Meadows was taking a gla.s.s of ale. He promptly decided on his game. The travellers called for hot brandy-and-water, and while the waiter left it for a moment, Meadows dropped the contents of a certain white paper into the liquor. In the dead of night he left his bedroom, and crept to the room where Robinson slept. The drug had done its work. Meadows found 7,000 under the sleeper's pillow, and carried the notes off undetected.

He returned in the early morning to his own house, he explained to Crawley why he had done this. "Don't you see that I have made George Fielding penniless, and that now old Merton won't let him have his daughter. He can't marry her at all now, and when the writ is served on old Merton he will be as strong as fire for me and against George Fielding. I am not a thief, and the day I marry Susan 7,000 will be put in George Fielding's hand; he won't know by whom, but you and I shall know. I am a sinner, but not a villain."

He lit a candle and placed it in the grate. "Come now," Meadows said coolly, "burn them; then they will tell no tale."

Crawley shrieked: "No, no, sir! Don't think of it, give them to me, and in twelve hours I will be in France!"

Meadows hesitated, and then agreed to give him the notes on condition Crawley went to France that very day.

Crawley kept faith. He hugged his treasure to his bosom, and sat down at the railway-station waiting for the train.

Old Isaac Levi was there, and a police officer whom Crawley knew.

"You have 7,000 about you, Mr. Crawley," whispered Isaac in his ear.

"Stolen! Give it up to the police officer. Stolen by him, received by you. Give it up unless you prefer a public search. Here is a search warrant from the mayor."

"I won't without Mr. Meadows' authority. Send for Mr. Meadows, if you dare!"

"Well, we will take you to Mr. Meadows. Keep the money till you see him, but we must secure you. Let us go in a carriage."

Meantime, Mr. Meadows had gone to the bank, and had made over the sum of 7,000 to George Fielding and Thomas Robinson. Then he hastened to the church, for it was his wedding-day, and every delay was dangerous.

The parson was late, and while Meadows stood waiting outside the church, along with old Merton and his daughter, and a crowd of neighbours, George Fielding and Robinson came up.