'A- 
 
 
 
 i^^^d 
 
 T^ 
 
 
 
 . ^JM 
 
 f 
 
 
LI E) RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
^ 
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 'in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://wwvi(.archive.org/details/worldsendstoryin01jeff 
 
WORLD'S END 
 
WORLD'S END. 
 
 IN THEEE BOOKS. 
 
 BY 
 
 EICHAED JEFFEPtlES. 
 
 " I made me great works : I builded me houses : I planted me 
 Tinevards." — Eccles. 
 
 BOOK I.— FACTS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 mSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1877. 
 
 lEight of Translation referred by the Author.] 
 
LOHTON: 
 *iVaL, XDWABBS ^JrD CO., PKI.VTKES, CHASDOS 3T2SrT> 
 
WORLD'S END 
 
 BOOK 
 FACTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 CHAPTEE T. 
 
 T is not generally known that the 
 mighty city of Stirmingham owes 
 its existence to a water-rat. Stir- 
 
 '^^ raingham has a population of half a million, 
 
 ^and is the workshop of the earth. It is a 
 
 -^ proud city, and its press- men have traced 
 
 ^ its origin back into the dim vista of the 
 
 > past, far before Alfred the Great's time, 
 
 . somewhere in the days of those monarchs 
 
 ^ who came from Troy, and whose deeds 
 
 '^ Holinshed so minutely chronicles. 
 
 VOL. I. 1 
 
WOKLD'S END. 
 
 But this is all trash and nonsense, and 
 is a cunning device of the able editors 
 aforesaid, who confound - — for their own 
 purposes — the city proper with the tiny 
 hamlet of Wolf's Glow. This little village 
 or cluster of houses, which now forms a 
 part, and the dirtiest part, of the city, can 
 indeed be traced through Hundred Eolls, 
 Domesday Book, and Saxon Charters, 
 almost down to the time of the Eomans. 
 But Stirmingham, the prosperous and 
 proud Stirmingham, which thinks that the 
 world could not exist without its watches 
 and guns, its plated goods, its monster 
 factories and mills, which sends cargoes to 
 Timbuctoo, and supplies Java and Malabar 
 •with idols — this vast place, whose nickname 
 is a by- word for cheating, for fair outward 
 show and no real solidity, owes its existence 
 to a water-rat. This is a fact. And it 
 happened in this way. 
 
 Once upon a time there was a wide ex- 
 panse of utterly useless land, flat as this 
 
FACTS. ^ 3 
 
 sheet of paper, without a trace of subsoil 
 or any kind of earth in which so much as 
 a blade of grass could grow. H; was utterly 
 dry and sterile — not a tree nor a shrub to 
 shelter a cow or a horse, and all men avoided 
 it as a waste and desolate place. It was 
 the very abomination of desolation, and no 
 one would have been surprised to have seen 
 satyrs and other strange creatures diverting 
 themselves thereon. Around one edge of 
 this plain there flowed a brook, so small 
 that one could hardly call it by that name. 
 A dainty lady from Belgravia could have 
 easily stepped across it without soiling the 
 sole of her boot. 
 
 At one spot beside this brook there grew 
 a willow tree. This tree was a picture in 
 itself, and would have made the fortune of 
 any artist who would have condescended to 
 make a loving study of it. The trunk had 
 been of very large size, but now resembled 
 a canoe standing upon end, for nearly one 
 half had decayed, and the crumbling wood 
 
 1—2 
 
WOELD'S EXD. 
 
 had disappeared, leaving a hollow stem. 
 The stem was itself dead and decaying, 
 except one thin streak of green, up which 
 the golden sap of life still ran, and invigo- 
 rated the ancient head of the tree to send 
 forth yellow buds and pointed leaves. Up 
 one side of the hollow trunk an ivy creeper 
 had climbed to the top, and v/as fast hang- 
 ing festoons from bough to bough. 
 
 In. the vast mass of decaying wood at the top 
 or head of the tree a briar had taken root — 
 its seed no doubt dropped by some thrush 
 — and its prickly shoots hung over and 
 drooped to the ground in luxuriance of 
 growth. Ilie hardy fern had also found a 
 lodging here, and its dull green leaves, 
 which they say grow most by moonlight, 
 formed a species of crown to the dying tree. 
 
 This willow was the paradise of such birds 
 as live upon insects, for they abounded in 
 the decaying wood ; and at the top a wild 
 pigeon had built its nest. As years went 
 by, the willow bent more and more over the 
 
FACTS. 5 
 
 brook. The water washing the soil out from 
 between its roots formed a hollow space, 
 where a slight eddy scooped out a deeper 
 hole, in which the vermillion - throated 
 stickleback or minnow disported and watched 
 the mouth of its nest. This eddy also 
 weakened the tree by undermining it at its 
 foundation. The ivy grew thicker till it 
 formed a perfect bush upon the top, and 
 this in the winter afforded a hold for the 
 w^ind to shake the tree by. Tiie wind would 
 have passed harmlessly through the slender 
 branches, but the ivy, even in winter, the 
 season of storms, left something against 
 which it could rage with effect. Finally 
 came the water-rat. 
 
 If Stirmingham objects to owe its origin 
 to a water-rat, it may at least congratulate 
 itself upon the fact that it was a good 
 old English rat — none of your modern par- 
 venu, grey Hanoverian rascals. It was, in 
 fact, before the Norwegian rat, which had 
 been imported in the holds of vessels, had 
 
WORLD'S END. 
 
 obtained undisputed sway over the country. 
 It Lad, however, ah-eady driven the darker 
 aboriginal inhabitants away from the culti- 
 vated places to take refuge in the woods and 
 streams. It is odd that in the animal 
 kingdom also, even in the rat economy, the 
 darker hued race should give way to the 
 lighter. However, as in Stirraingham the 
 smoke is so great that the ladies when they 
 walk abroad carry parasols up to keep the 
 blacks from falling on and disfiguring their 
 complexion, there can after all be no dis- 
 grace in the water-rat ancestry. 
 
 This dark coloured water-rat, finding his 
 position less and less secure at the adjacent 
 barn on account of the attacks of the grey 
 invaders, one fine day migrated, with Mrs. 
 Rat and all the Master and Missy rats, 
 down to the stream. Peeping and sniffing 
 about for a pleasant retreat, he chose the 
 neighbourhood of the willow tree. I cannot 
 stay here to discuss whether or no he was 
 led to the tree by some mystic beckoning 
 
FACTS. 7 
 
 hand — some supernatural presentiment ; but 
 to the tree he went, and Stirmingham was 
 founded. Two or three burrows — small 
 round holes — sufficed to house Mr. Rat 
 and his family, but these ran right under 
 the willow, and of course still further 
 weakened it. 
 
 In course of time the family flourished 
 exceedingly, and Mr. Eat became a great- 
 great-great-grandpapa to ever so many 
 minor Frisky Tails. These Frisky Tails 
 finding the ancient quarter too much 
 straightened for comfort, began to scratch 
 further tunnels, and succeeded pretty well 
 in opening additional honeycombs, till pre- 
 sently progress was stayed by a root of the 
 tree. Now they had gnawed through and 
 scratched away half a dozen other roots, and 
 never paused to sniff more particularly at 
 this than the others. But it so happened 
 that this root was the one which supplied 
 the green streak up the trunk of the tree 
 with the golden sap of life drawn by 
 
WORLD'S END. 
 
 mysterious cliemical processes from the 
 earth. Frisky Tails gnawed this root 
 asunder, and cut off the supply of sap. 
 The green streak up the trunk withered 
 and died, and the last stay of the willow 
 was gone. It only remained for the first 
 savage south-wester of winter to finish the 
 mischief. 
 
 The south-wester came, and over went 
 the trunk, crash across the brook. At 
 first this was very awkward for the rats, 
 as thereby most of their subterranean dwel- 
 lings became torn up and exposed. But 
 very soon a geological change occurred. 
 
 The tree had fallen obliquely across the 
 stream, and its ponderous head, or top, 
 choked up the bed, or very nearly. The sand 
 and small sticks, leaves, and so on, brought 
 down by the current, filled up the crevices left 
 by the tree, and a perfect dam was formed. 
 
 Now, as stated before, the ground there- 
 about was nearly level, and so worthless 
 in character that no man ever troubled 
 
FACTS. 9 
 
 his bead about it. No one came to see the 
 dam or remove it. The result was the brook 
 overflowed, and then findinj^r this level 
 plateau, instead of eating out a new channel, 
 it spread abroad, and formed first a good- 
 sized puddle, then a pond, then something 
 like a flood, and, as time went by, a marsh. 
 This marsh extended over a space of ground 
 fully a mile long, and altogether covered 
 some nine hundred acres. 
 
 The rats, sagacious creatures, instead of 
 deserting their colony, showed that they 
 possessed that species of wisdom which the 
 Greek sage said was superior to all other 
 knowledge — namely, the knowledge how to 
 turn an evil to a good. Exploring this 
 shallow lake which their carelessness had 
 caused, they found several places still unsub- 
 merged — islands, in fact. To one of these 
 they swam, dug out new catacombs, and 
 being now quite safe from interruption, and 
 protected upon all sides, the Malthusian 
 laws of population had full play, and soon 
 
10 WORLD'S END. 
 
 proved its force, for tlie whole place swarmed 
 witli them. The axiom, however, that at the 
 very point when empires are apparently 
 most prosperous, their destruction is near at 
 hand, to some extent applied even to the 
 dominion of the water-rat. They were no 
 longer to be the sole undisturbed possessors. 
 
 Arguing a priori, one would have con- 
 cluded that if this waste land was worthless 
 before, now it was a marsh, and miasmatic 
 vapours arose from it, it wonld be still 
 more avoided. But the facts were exactly 
 opposite. So soon as ever the water had 
 spread over the level plain, and had well 
 soaked into the sterile soil, there bes^an to 
 spring up tough aquatic grasses, commonly 
 called bull-polls, from a supposed resem- 
 blance between their tangled appearance 
 and the rough hair that hangs over the 
 poll of a bull. 
 
 These grasses are gregarious — that is to 
 say, they prefer to grow in huge bunches. 
 Each bunch increasing year after year. 
 
FACTS. 11 
 
 forms in time a small hillock or tuft, and, 
 the roots spreading and spreading, these 
 hillocks of grass almost covered the lake, 
 leaving only narrow channels of water 
 between. Upon these innumerable frogs 
 and toads crawled up out of the water, and 
 they were the chosen resorts of newts. 
 
 In summer time the blue dragon-fly 
 wheeled in mazes over them, or, while 
 settled on the stiff blades of grass, looked 
 like a species of blossom. The current of 
 the brook brought down seeds, and soon 
 the tall reed began to rear its slender stem, 
 and rustle its feathery head in the breeze. 
 The sedges came also, and fringed the 
 marsh with a border of green. 
 
 Meantime, the root which the rats had 
 gnawed asunder beneath the ancient willow- 
 tree, felt the power of spring, and made one 
 more effort. Freed from the incubus of the 
 dead trunk, it threw out a shoot of its own. 
 From this shoot there proceeded other 
 shoots; and, in short, after a while the 
 
12 WOELD'S END. 
 
 islands in the marsh became covered with 
 willow trees and osier-beds. The reeds 
 grew apace, and by the time the islands 
 were clothed with willow, the rest of the 
 marsh was occupied by them, saving only 
 the fringe of sedge, and the almost im- 
 mortal bull-polls, which were as tough as 
 leather, and which nothing could kill. 
 
 Now, also, animal life began to people 
 the once-deserted waste. With the sedges 
 came the sedge- warblers ; with the willows 
 came the brook-sparrows ; and above all, 
 came the wild-fowl. The heron stalked to 
 and fro between the bull-polls ; the ducks 
 swam in and out; the moor-hens took up 
 their residence ; and in winter the wddgfeons 
 and snipes visited the place in myriads. 
 
 It was now time for man. And man came. 
 He came first in the person of here and there 
 a cotter, who cut himself a huge bundle of 
 reeds for fuel, to mend his thatch, or litter 
 his pig ; then in the person of the j^oacher — 
 if it could be called poaching to hunt where 
 
FACTS. 13 
 
 no one preserved — who, with long-barrelled 
 gun, brass-fitted and flint-locked, brought 
 down half a dozen ducks at once, and then 
 waded in after them. 
 
 One day a travelling gipsy-tribe came b}^ 
 and encamped for the night close to the 
 marsh. In this tribe there was a man who, 
 in his way, possessed the genius of Alex- 
 ander the Great. Alexander chancing to 
 pass a landlocked harbour utterly neglected, 
 saw at a glance its capabilities, and built a 
 city which is renowned to this day. 
 
 This gipsy fellow, who was only a gipsy 
 by marriage, saw this unoccupied marsh, 
 with its wild-fowl, its fish, and, above all, 
 its willows, and at once fixed upon it as a 
 promising spot. 
 
 He was a basket-maker by trade. 
 
 He waded in to one of the islets, 
 carrying his infant in his arms, and fol- 
 lowed by his wife, who carried his tools. 
 He set up his tent-pole, and in time super- 
 seded it with a cottage of sod, roofed with 
 
14 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 reeds. All day he made baskets of willow 
 and flags, in the evening he shot ducks and 
 wido:eon. The baskets he sold in the 
 towns, the ducks he ate. One or two 
 others followed his example. 
 
 The gipsy tribe made it a rule to come 
 that way twice a year to purchase the 
 baskets and retail them all over the coun- 
 try. The original settlers had sons, and 
 the sons took possession of other islets, 
 built sod cottages, or wattle-and-dab, and 
 married wives, till there were ten or 
 twelve settlements upon the islands ; and 
 these ten or twelve, all in a rude sort of 
 way, gave the chieftainship to the original 
 basket-maker, whose name happened to be 
 Baskette. 
 
 These people, in the heart of a midland 
 county, lived almost exactly the life that 
 was led at the same period by the dwellers 
 in the fen countries to the eastward. It 
 was a rude existence, but it was free and 
 independent, and not without a charm to 
 
FACTS. 15 
 
 those who had been bom and bred in it. 
 Even this unenviable life was, however, to 
 be disturbed. Two mighty giants were 
 preparing, like the ogres in the fairy tales, 
 to eat up the defenceless population. The 
 lid of a certain tea-kettle had puffed up and 
 down, and Steam had been born. The 
 other ogre was called Legal Eights, and 
 began to bite first. 
 
CHAPTEE IT. 
 
 '0 long as this waste land was tenanted 
 only by the '' owl and the bittern," 
 Legal Rights slumbered. The mo- 
 ment man put his foot upon it the ogre 
 woke up, for it is not permitted to that 
 miserable two-legged creature to rest in 
 peace anywhere in this realm. 
 
 The village of Wolf's Glow was distant 
 about a mile and a quarter from the old 
 willow tree whose fall had dammed up the 
 brook and caused the marsh. The brook, 
 in fact, ran past the village, and supplied 
 more than one farmhouse with water. 
 These farms were of the poorest class — mere 
 stretches of pasture-land, and such pasture 
 which a well-fed donkey would despise ! 
 
 The poorest farm, in appearance at all 
 
FACTS. 17 
 
 events, was Wick — a large but tumbledown 
 place, roofed with grey slates, whicb stood 
 apart from the village. It was the largest 
 house in the place, and yet seemed the 
 most poverty-stricken. The grey slates 
 were falling off. The roof-tree had cracked 
 and bent, the lattice windows were broken, 
 and the holes stuffed up with bundles of hay 
 and straw. The garden was choked with 
 weeds, and the very apple trees in the 
 orchard were withering away. 
 
 Old Sibbold, the owner and occupier, was 
 detested by the entire village, and by no 
 one more than his two sons. He was a 
 miser, and yet nothing seemed to prosper 
 with him ; and pare and save as much as 
 he would he could make no accumulation. 
 His sons were the only labourers he em- 
 ployed, though his farm was the largest 
 thereabouts, and he paid them only in 
 lodging and food, and not much of the 
 latter. 
 
 The eldest, Arthur, chafed bitterly under 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
18 WORLD'S EXD. 
 
 this treatment, for he appears, from the 
 scanty records that remain of him, to have 
 been a lad of spirit and energy. 
 
 The second son, James, was of a grosser 
 nature, and his mind was chiefly occupied 
 with eating and drinking. He had an implicit 
 faith in the wealth of his father, and sub- 
 mitted patiently to all these hardships and 
 rough treatment in the hope of ingratiating 
 himself with the old man, and perhaps 
 supplanting Arthur in his will — that is, 
 so far as his money was concerned, for the 
 land, as the villagers said, " went by heir- 
 ship" — i.e., was entailed — but who would 
 care for such land ? 
 
 Arthur saw the game and did nothing to 
 prevent it ; on the contrary, he took a 
 certain pleasure in irritating the savage 
 and morose old man, whom he thoroughly 
 despised. Perhaps what happened in the 
 future was a punishment for this unfilial 
 conduct, however much it was provoked. 
 
 The mother, it must be understood, had 
 
FACTS. 19 
 
 long been dead, and there was no mediator 
 between the stern old man and his fiery- 
 tempered son. Old Sibbold was des2ended 
 of a good family — one that had once held 
 a position, not only in the county but in 
 the country — and he dwelt much on the 
 past, recalling the time w^hen a Sibbold 
 had held a bishop a prisoner for King 
 John. 
 
 He pored over the deeds in his old oak 
 chest — a press, which stood on four carved 
 legs, and was closed with a ponderous .pad- 
 lock. That chest, if it could be found now, 
 would be worth its weight, not in gold 
 merely, but in diamonds. At that time 
 these deeds and parchments were of little 
 value ; they related mostly to by-gone 
 days, and Arthur ridiculed his father's 
 patient study of their crabbed handwriting. 
 
 What was the use of dwelling on the 
 past ? — up and speculate on the present ! 
 
 Irritated beyond measure, old Sibbold 
 would reply that half the county belonged 
 
 2—2 
 
20 WORLD'S EKD. 
 
 to him, and lie could prove it. All that 
 they could see from that window was his. 
 
 "Why," said Arthur, "all we can see is 
 the Lea, which is as harren as the crown of 
 my hat, except in weeds and bulrushes !" 
 
 " Barren or not, they're mine," said Sib- 
 bold, closing his chest; "and I will make 
 those squatters pay !" 
 
 For the Lea was that piece of waste 
 ground which the brook had overflowed, 
 and in a sense rendered fertile. 
 
 From that hour began a persecution of 
 the basket-makers who had settled on the 
 little islets in the marsh. Sibbold had an 
 undoubted parchment right — whether he 
 had a moral and true right to a place he 
 had never touched with spade or plough is 
 a different matter. He claimed a rent. 
 The cotters refused to pay. Their chieftain, 
 old Will Baskette, wanted to compromise 
 matters, and offered a small quit-rent. 
 
 Now every one knows that quit-rent and 
 rent are very different things in a legal 
 
FACTS. 21 
 
 point of view. A man who pays rent can 
 be served with notice to quit. A man who 
 pays quit-rent has a claim upon the soil, 
 and cannot be ejected. Sibbold refused the 
 quit-rent, and had the squatters served with 
 a notice. They went on cutting reeds, 
 weaving^ baskets, and shootincr wild-fowl, 
 just the same; till one day old Sibbold, 
 accompanied with a posse of constables 
 (there were no police in those days), walked 
 into the marsh with his jack-boots on ; 
 and, while one of the cotters was absent 
 selling his baskets, began to tear the little 
 hut down, despite the curses of the women 
 and the wailin^r of the children. But the 
 hut, as it happened, was stronger in reality 
 than appearance, and resisted the attack, 
 till one of the constables suc^o^ested fire. 
 
 A burning brand from the cottage hearth 
 was applied by old Sibbold himself to the 
 reed thatch, and in a moment up shot a 
 fierce blaze which left nothing but ashes, 
 and sod walls two feet high. One can 
 
22 WOELD'S END. 
 
 imagine tlie temper a man of gipsy blood 
 would be in when, on returning home, he 
 found his children crying and the women 
 silent, sitting among the ruins. From that 
 hour a spirit of revenge took possession 
 of the dwellers in this Dismal Swamp of 
 hostility to the village. 
 
 Hitherto these half savage people had 
 paid of their own free will a kind of tribute 
 to the regular house-folk of Wolf's Glow. 
 The farmers* wives received useful presents 
 of baskets and clothes-pegs, and every now 
 and then half a dozen wild ducks were found 
 on the threshold in the morning. The 
 clergyman was treated in a similar manner ; 
 and being known to have a penchant for 
 snipes and woodcocks, his table was well 
 supplied in the season. Sometimes there 
 were other things left in a mysterious way 
 at the door — such as a bladder full of the 
 finest brandy or Hollands gin, or a packet of 
 tobacco or snuff. 
 
 This was generally after the visit of the 
 
FACTS. 23 
 
 gipsy tribe, who were smugglers to a con- 
 siderable extent. No farmer ever missed a 
 Iamb or a horse : sueh property was far safer 
 since the settlement of the Dismal Swamp. 
 
 But now the village had attacked the 
 Swamp, the Swamp retaliated on the village, 
 and a reofular war commenced. The farmers' 
 sheep began to disappear — none so often as old 
 Sibbold's. Once a valuable horse of his was 
 lost. This drove him to the verge of frenzy. 
 He went down to the Swamp, and presently 
 returned swearing and vowing vengeance — 
 he had been shot at. This aroused the 
 clergyman into action. He went to the 
 Swamp, and was received with respect. He 
 talked of conciliation, and reproved them, 
 especially speaking of the sin of murder. 
 They listened, but utterly scouted the idea. 
 
 " We steal," they said, openly. " It is our 
 revenge ; but we do not murder. Sibbold 
 was not fired at. One of our young men 
 was seeking ducks — he did not know that 
 Sibbold at. the same moment was creeping 
 
24 WORLD'S END. 
 
 noiselessly through the reeds to fire our 
 huts. He shot at the ducks, and some of 
 the pellets glanced off Sibbold's jack-boots. 
 That's tlie truth." 
 
 And it was the truth. But Sibbold 
 vowed vengeance, and was heard to say that 
 he would have their blood. He refused to 
 see the clergyman who came to mediate 
 and explain. He accused him of complicity, 
 and reviled him. 
 
 James, as usual, agreed with and seconded 
 him. Arthur sided with the squatters, and 
 said so openly. Sibbold cursed him. 
 Arthur said pointedly that when he in- 
 herited the land the squatters should be un- 
 molested. Sibbold struck him with an ash 
 stick. 
 
 Arthur left the house and went to the 
 Swamp. He called on old Will Baskette, 
 and expressed his hatred of his father's 
 tyranny. He asked to be taught to make 
 baskets, and to be initiated into the gipsy 
 mysteries. He was a quick lad, and they 
 
FACTS. 25 
 
 took an interest in teaching him. He soon 
 knew how to make two or three kinds of 
 baskets, learnt the gipsy language, and im- 
 bibed their singular traditions. 
 
 Meantime the war continued. At first 
 the farmers and villagers put up with 
 patience with their thefts, considering that 
 it was Sibbold's fault. But repeated losses 
 exasperated them. If one of the Dismal 
 Swamp people was seen abroad he was set 
 upon and maltreated, beaten black and blue. 
 Savage dogs were hounded at them. Sibbold 
 was encouraged to eject them. He tried to 
 get a posse of constables to do so, but the 
 constables hung back. They had heard the 
 story of the shooting at Sibbold ; they knew 
 these men to be desperate characters ; and 
 most of them had had presents of brandy 
 and tobacco, and ribbons for their wives. 
 
 They could not be got to move. That 
 was a lawless age in outlying places. Find- 
 ing this, the village began to contemplate a 
 raid en masse upon the Swamp. Nothing 
 
26 WOELD'S E'NT). 
 
 was talked of in the alehouse but fighting. 
 Men compared the length of their gun- 
 barrels, and put up marks to prove the range 
 of their shot. The younger men were ready 
 for the fray, the elders hesitated. They 
 looked at their thatched houses, at their barns 
 and ricks. The insurance companies had 
 not then penetrated into the most obscure 
 nooks and corners. 
 
 After all, the Swamp people were not un- 
 supported : they were a branch of a tribe. 
 If they were seriously injured the tribe 
 might return, and no one could calculate 
 the consequences. 
 
 So the foray was put off from day to day. 
 But the news that it was meditated soon 
 reached the Swamp, and made the dwellers 
 there more desperate than ever. Their 
 thefts grew to such a height that nothing 
 was safe. The geese and turkeys disap- 
 peared ; wheat was stolen from tlie barns ; 
 sheep were taken by the dozen, and no trace 
 could be found. Now and then a horse dis- 
 
FACTS. 27 
 
 appeared. It came to such a pitch that the 
 very beer in the barrels, the cider in the 
 cellar, was not safe, but was taken nightly. 
 
 Old Sibbold, of course, suffered most. 
 Tapping a cider barrel, he found it quite 
 empty. The old man was beside himself 
 with rage ; but he said nothing. He 
 studied retaliation. He watched his barns 
 — the wheat seemed to disappear under his 
 very eyes. One night as he was returning 
 from his barn, carrying his long-barrelled 
 fliut-lock under his arm, he fancied he saw 
 a gleam of light in the ivy, which almost 
 hid the cellar window. Stealthily he peeped 
 through. There was a man stooping down, 
 drawing off the cider from a barrel into a 
 bucket. 
 
 Old Sibbold's lips compressed ; a fire 
 came into his eyes. He grasped his gun. 
 Just then the thief held up the candle in 
 his left hand, and revealed the features of 
 old Will Baskette, the very chief of the 
 Swamp. Sibbold hated him more particu- 
 
28 WORLD'S END. 
 
 larly because he knew that Arthur fre- 
 quented his hut. Up went the long gun. 
 The gleam of light from the candle guided 
 the aim. The muzzle was close to the 
 lattice window. A cruel eye glanced 
 along the barrel, a finger was on the trigger. 
 The flint struck the steel with a sharp 
 snick — a spark flew out — an explosion — 
 the window - glass smashed — a cloud of 
 smoke — one groan, and all was still. 
 
 Sibbold rushed round the house", opened 
 the door gently, locked it behind him, and 
 stole upstairs. On the landing he met his 
 youngest son James. For a moment they 
 looked at one another. The young man 
 spoke first. 
 
 *' Quick, and load your gun," he said. 
 " Then put it in the rack and get into 
 bed. Give me your breeches." 
 
 They wore breeches and gaiters in those 
 days. 
 
 The old man did as he was bid. The 
 gun was put in the rack ; old Sibbold got 
 
FACTS. 29 
 
 into bed. James took his breeches, poured 
 a bucket of water on them, and hung them 
 up in the wide chimney — the embers still 
 glowed on the hearth. Then he stole up- 
 stairs. 
 
 "Arthur is out," he whispered, as he 
 passed, the old man's bedroom. 
 
 Ten minutes passed. Then there arose 
 clatter of feet and a shoutino:. 
 
 " Farmer ! farmer ! your house is a-fire. 
 The thatch be cauo^ht alio-ht." 
 
 James opened the window, yawned, and 
 asked what was the matter. 
 
 " Father's asleep," he said, as if not com- 
 prehending them. *' He got wet in the 
 brook, and went to bed early. Can't ye 
 come in the morning ?" 
 
 But the others soon roused the house. 
 
 The thatch had indeed caught over the 
 cellar - window ; but fortunately it was 
 nearly covered with moss and weeds, and 
 was easily put out. 
 
 Then some one noticed the smashed win- 
 
30 WORLD'S END. 
 
 dow. " Who was it fired ?" they asked. 
 " We heard a shot, and thought it was the 
 swampers. We were watching our sheep 
 and barns. Then w^e saw this fire in your 
 thatch, and ran. Who was it fired ? How 
 came the window smashed Hke this? 
 How came the thatch alight ?" James an- 
 swered, " He really did not know. He had 
 heard no shot, he slept sound, knew 
 nothing of the thatch being on fire, and 
 they would have been burnt in their beds if 
 it had not been for their kind neighbours." 
 Old Sibbold stood and shivered in his shirt, 
 his breeches were wet. The neighbours 
 came in. 
 
 "Ill go upstairs and fetch father a 
 blanket to wrap his knees in," said James. 
 "Father, thee blow the embers up; John 
 Andrews, thee knows where the cellar is : 
 give 'em the ke}^ father, and do you go, 
 John, and draw some cider." 
 
 Away went John Andrews with the 
 lantern, and came back with a face white as 
 
FACTS. 31 
 
 a sheet, just as James got downstairs. 
 There was a dead man in the cellar, in a 
 flood of gore and cider ! 
 
 The result was a coroner's inquiry; the 
 thefts and so forth might have gone on for 
 ever, but death could not be disregarded. 
 Even in that lawless age, death was at- 
 tended to. An inquest was held, and the 
 jury was composed of the farmers of the 
 village. Suspicion fell very strongly upon 
 old Sibbold. The Swamp people oj)enly 
 denounced him as the murderer. His 
 neighbours, much as they hated the Swamp, 
 believed in their hearts that they w^ere 
 right ; and not all theu' class prejudice 
 could overcome the innate horror they felt 
 in his presence. More than one had heard 
 him say he would have blood. Now there 
 was blood enough. 
 
 Still there was not enough evidence to 
 arrest Sibbold. The Swamp people said he 
 would run away, and if he did they would 
 watch him and brins: him back. But Sib- 
 
32 WORLD'S END. 
 
 bold did nothing of tlie kind. He faced 
 tlie inquiry with a stern dignity which im- 
 posed on some. 
 
 First came the medical evidence. The 
 doctor proved that the shot had entered the 
 left side, just below the heart, and had 
 passed downwards. It had entered all 
 together — the pellets not spread about, but 
 close together, like a bullet, which proved 
 that the gun had been fired very close. 
 Death must have been absolutely instan- 
 taneous. Deceased was in a stooping 
 posture when he received the charge. 
 
 The constable who had examined the 
 premises, declared it as his belief — as, in- 
 deed, it was the belief of everyone present 
 — that the shot had been fired from without 
 the window. The shot itself could not 
 have smashed every pane — that was the 
 concussion. The thatch had been doubtless 
 set on fire by a piece of the paper which 
 had been used as wadding. 
 
 When this had been said there was 
 
FACTS. 33 
 
 nothing more to be done, at least so the 
 jury thought. Suspect Sibbold as much as 
 they would, they were determined to pro- 
 tect him if possible. This was partly class- 
 feeling, and partly remembrance of the 
 provocation. 
 
 But the Coroner was not to be put off so 
 easily. He had Sibbold called, and ques- 
 tioned him closely. He called James also, 
 but they both stuck to their tale ; they had 
 never heard the shot, &c. The Coroner 
 sent for Sibbold's gun, keeping Sibbold and 
 James at the inn where the inquest was 
 held meantime. It was brought. It told 
 no tales : it was loaded. Finally, the 
 Coroner, still dissatisfied and vaguely sus- 
 picious, called Arthur Sibbold, who, white 
 as a sheet, was sitting near on a bench 
 watching the proceedings. 
 
 He started at his name and looked round, 
 but finally came forward. Where had he 
 been that night? He was at Bassett, a 
 small town six miles distant. What was 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
34 WORLD'S END. 
 
 his business there? what time did he leave? 
 and so on. Arthur answered, but not so 
 clearly as was desired. He contradicted 
 himself as to the time at which he left 
 Bassett, and got confused. 
 
 The Coroner's suspicions shifted upon 
 him. He must have arrived about the 
 time the shot was heard, yet he did not 
 go indoors, did not show himself till break- 
 fast-time next morning. James vouched 
 for that, unasked. What was he doing all 
 night ? 
 
 Suspicion fell very strong on Arthur. 
 But at this moment the wife of the de- 
 ceased started forward and declared her 
 belief in his innocence, recounting how he 
 had learnt basket-making, &c., of the dead 
 man, and they had been on the most 
 friendly terms. 
 
 Still, said the Coroner, he might have 
 mistaken his man in the uncertain light. 
 Had he a gun? It was shown that the 
 three Sibbolds had but one gun; that 
 
FACTS. 35 
 
 Arthur never used a gun, being of a tender 
 nature, and often expressing his dislike to 
 see birds wantonly slaughtered. 
 
 The Sibbolds were then, with the other 
 witnesses, ordered out, and the Coroner 
 addressed the jury. 
 
 He told them plainly where his suspicions 
 lay : one of the Sibbolds, he was certain, did 
 the deed, but which ? Two were in bed, or 
 at least were to all appearance in bed, and 
 one point in their favour was that the 
 thatch was alight. Now, if they had 
 known that, they would hardly have lain 
 till the neighbours came up. The third 
 was out that night, and, according to his 
 own showing, must have returned about 
 the time the murder was committed. But 
 in his favour it was urged that he was on 
 the best of terms with the deceased; that 
 he had no gun of his own ; that he disliked 
 the use of a gun. He said much more,, but 
 these were the chief points, and particularly 
 he laid down the law. They must not 
 
 3—2 
 
36 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 imagine because a man was stealing that 
 thereby his life was at any one's mercy. If 
 a struggle took place, and the thief was 
 killed in the struggle, there were then 
 several loopholes of escape from the penalty 
 of the law. First, it might be called 
 chance-medle}^ ; next, there would be a 
 doubt whether the stab or shot was not 
 given in self-defence, and was not intended 
 to kill. But in this case there was every 
 appearance of deliberate murder. The thief 
 had been spied at the cask ; the mur- 
 derer had coolly aimed along his gun 
 and fired, hitting his man in a vital part, 
 evidently of design and aforethought. 
 
 He then left the jury to their delibera- 
 tions. They talked it over half an hour in 
 a sullen manner, and then returned an open 
 verdict — " Found dead.'' The Coroner re- 
 monstrated, and recommended that at least 
 it should be '' Wilful murder against per- 
 sons unknown," but they were obstinate. 
 
 That verdict stands to this da}^ The 
 
FACTS. 37 
 
 dread spectre of the gallows vanished 
 from Wolf's Glow. Old Will Baskette was 
 buried in the churchyard, and his funeral 
 was attended by the whole of the Swamp 
 people and half the village. And over their 
 ale the farmers whispered that it served 
 the old thief right, but they avoided old 
 Sibbold. The work of the rats had already 
 brought fruit in bloodshed. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 N these days such a verdict and such 
 an ending to a tragedy would be 
 out of the question ; but there were 
 no police in those times to take up a case if 
 it chanced to slip by the Coroner. Once past 
 the Coroner, and the criminal was practically 
 safe. The county officers were never in a 
 hurry for such prosecutions, for a gallows 
 cost at least 300/. They wanted a public 
 prosecutor then ten times more than we do 
 now. Sibbold was shunned by the very men 
 who had acquitted him ; but there is no 
 reason to suppose he ever felt remorse. He 
 was made of that kind of stuff of which the 
 men in armour, his ancestors, were composed, 
 who thought little or nothing of human 
 life. But one day he met Arthur, his eldest 
 son, face to face upon the stairs. It was 
 
FACTS. 39 
 
 the first time they had met since the 
 inquest — Arthur had avoided the place, 
 and wandered about a good deal by himself, 
 till some simple folk began to think that it 
 was he who had committed the deed, and 
 that his conscience was troubling him. 
 
 This meeting on the stairs took place by 
 accident one mornino: — Sibbold was £^oino^ 
 to pass, but Arthur put his hand on his 
 shoulder, '' I saw you do it," he said. He 
 had just entered the rick yard when the 
 shot was fired. He had held his peace, 
 but his mind could not rest. '' I cannot 
 stay here," he said, '' I am going. I shall 
 never see you again." 
 
 Old Sibbold stood like a stone ; but pre- 
 sently put his hand in his pocket and held 
 out his purse. 
 
 '' No," said Arthur ; " not a penny of 
 that, it would be blood money." 
 
 He went, and evil report went after him. 
 Perhaps it was James who fanned the 
 flame, but for years afterwards it was always 
 
40 WOELD'S END. 
 
 believed that Arthur had shot the basket- 
 maker. Only the Swamp people combated 
 the notion. Arthur was one of them, and 
 understood their language — it was im- 
 possible. Not to have to return to these 
 times, it will be, perhaps, best to at once 
 finish with old Sibbold ; though the event 
 did not really happen till some time after 
 Arthur's departure. 
 
 Sibbold went to a fair at some twenty 
 miles distance — a yearly custom of his ; 
 and returning home in the evening, he 
 was met by highwaymen, it is sup- 
 posed, and refusing to give up his money 
 bag, was shot. At all events his horse 
 came home riderless, and the body of the 
 old man was found on the heath divested of 
 every article of value. Suspicion at once 
 fell on his known enemies, the Swamp people. 
 Their cottages were searched and nothing 
 found. Their men were interrogated, but 
 had all been either at home or in another 
 direction. Calm reason put down Sibbold's 
 
FACTS. 41 
 
 death to misadventure with highwaymen, 
 common enough in those times ; but there 
 were those who always held that it was 
 done in revenge, as it w^as belie v^ that the 
 gipsies retained the old vendetta creed. 
 
 As Arthur did not return, James took 
 possession, and went on as usual ; but he 
 did not disturb the Swamp settlement. He 
 avoided them, and they avoided him. 
 
 When Will Baskette was shot he left a 
 widow and two sons, one of them was 
 strong and hardy, the other, about sixteen, 
 was delicate and unfit for rous^h outdoor 
 life. This fact was well known to the 
 clergyman at Wolf's Grlow, the Eev. Ealph 
 Boteler, who was really a benevolently- 
 minded man. 
 
 The w^idow and her eldest son joined the 
 
 gipsy tribe and abandoned the Swamp. The 
 
 Eev. Ralph Boteler took the delicate Eomy 
 
 Baskette into his service as man of all 
 work, meaning to help in the garden and 
 
 clean the parson's nag. Romy could not 
 
42 WORLD'S END. 
 
 read, and the parson taught him — also to 
 write. Being quiet and good-looking, the 
 lad won on the vicar, who after a time 
 found himself taking a deep interest in 
 the friendless orphan. It ended in Eomy 
 leaving the garden and the stable, and being 
 domiciled in the studio, where the parson 
 filled his head with learning, not forgetting 
 Latin and Greek. 
 
 The vicar was a single man, middle-aged, 
 with very little thought beyond his own 
 personal comfort, except that he liked to see 
 the hounds throw off, being too stout to 
 follow them. He had, however, one hobby; 
 and, like other men who are moderate 
 enough upon other topics, he was violence 
 itself upon this. Of all the hobbies in the 
 world, this parson's fancy was geology — 
 then just beginning to emerge as a real 
 science. 
 
 The neio^hbours thouo^ht the vicar was 
 as mad as a March hare on this one point. 
 He grubbed up the earth in forty places 
 
FACTS. 43 
 
 with a small mattock he had made on pur- 
 pose at the \illage blacksmith's. He broke 
 every stone in the district with a hammer 
 which the same artisan made for him. 
 
 His craze was that the neighbourhood of 
 Wolf's Griow was rich in the two great 
 stores of nature which make countries 
 powerful — i.e., in Coal and Iron. He 
 proved it in twent}^ ways. First, the very 
 taste of the water, and the colour of the 
 earth in the streams ; by the nodules of 
 dark, heavy stone wdiich abounded ; by 
 the oily substance often found floating on 
 the surface of ponds — rock oil ; by the 
 strata and the character of the fossils ; by 
 actual analysis of materials picked up by 
 himself; lastly, by archseology. 
 
 Wolfs Glow 1 What was the meaning of 
 that singular name ? The only Glow in the 
 count3\ Wolf was, perhaps, a man's name 
 in the centuries since. But Glow ? Glow 
 was, without a doubt, the ancient British 
 for coal. 
 
44 WOELD'S END. 
 
 The people who argued against him — 
 and they were all he met — ridiculed the 
 idea of the ancient Britons knowing any- 
 thing of coal. Boteler produced his autho- 
 rities to show that they, and their con- 
 querors the Eomans, were perfectly familiar 
 with that mineral. Wolf's Glow was, in 
 fact. Wolfs Coal Pit. " Very well," said 
 the Objectors, " show us the coal-pit, and 
 we'll believe." This the vicar could not do, 
 and was held to be mad accordingly. 
 
 But all this talking, and searching, and 
 analysing made a deep impression upon the 
 mind of young Bomy Baskette, who was 
 now hard upon twenty years of age. 
 Boteler, really desirous of pushing the lad 
 on, sent him to London, whither Arthur 
 Sibbold had preceded him, and placed him, 
 at a high pr^^.iium, in the care of a friend 
 of his, who was in the iron trade. Eomy 
 grew and prospered, and being of a serious 
 disposition saved all the money he could 
 lay hands on. Presently old Boteler died. 
 
FACTS. 45 
 
 and left him, noc all, but a great share of 
 his worldly wealth. AVith this he bought 
 a share in the iron business, and became a 
 partner. Wealth rolled in upon him, and 
 at an early period of life he retired from 
 active labour, married, and bought an estate 
 a few miles from Wolf's Glow. 
 
 In his leisure hours the memory of the 
 old days with the vicar returned. He re- 
 solved to test the vicar's theory. He pur- 
 chased a small piece of land in Wolf's 
 Grlow parish, sank a shaft, and sure enough 
 came upon coal. 
 
 This discovery revivified the whole man. 
 He cast off sloth, forgot all about retire- 
 ment, and plunged into business again. 
 Another search, conducted by practical 
 hands, proved the existence of iron. 
 
 There was a furore. C- Hieries were 
 started ; iron furnaces set going. It was 
 just at the dawn of the great iron and 
 coal trade. The railways had been started, 
 and the demand was greater than the sup- 
 
46 WOELD'S END. 
 
 ply. Eomy Baskette and Company soon 
 employed two thousand hands coal-digging 
 and iron-smelting. The man, in fact, wore 
 himself out at the trade of money-making. 
 He could not rest. Night and day his 
 brain was at work. An accidental conver- 
 sation with one of his workmen suggested 
 to him a new idea. The smiths of the 
 time could not make nails fast enough for 
 all the buildirg that was going on. This 
 workman had been a sailor in his day, 
 and had seen nails abroad which were 
 made in batches by machinery, instead of 
 slowly and laboriously, one by one, by 
 hand. 
 
 Baskette caught at the idea. He studied 
 and learnt what he could. He made a voy- 
 age himself abroad, and soon mastered the 
 secret. He erected machinery, and cut nails 
 were first made. The consumption was 
 enormous. The business of this Baskette 
 and Company became so large that it almost 
 passed out of control. Meantime other 
 
FACTS. 47 
 
 firms had come and settled, bought land, 
 dug up coal, and set up smelting furnaces. 
 In ten years the population from being 
 absolutely nil rose to thirty-five thousand 
 people. By this time Eomy had killed 
 himself. But that mattered little, for he 
 had left a son, and a son who inherited 
 all his genius, and was if anything still 
 " harder in the mouth." He was named, 
 from his mother's family, Sternhold Bas- 
 kette. 
 
 Sternhold picked up the plough-handle 
 which had dropped from his father's grasp, 
 and continued the good work, never once 
 looking back. But although equally clever, 
 the bent of his genius was difi'erent from 
 that of old Romy. Eomy was at heart a 
 speculator, and believed in personal pro- 
 perty. Sternhold was a Conservative, and 
 put his faith in real property, houses, and 
 land. He kept up the old forges and col- 
 lieries, but he started no new ones. He 
 invested the money in land and houses, 
 
48 WOKLD'S E:N"D. 
 
 particularly the latter. His life may be 
 summed up in two strokes of genius — the 
 first was bringing the iron horse to Stir- 
 mingham, as the new town was called ; the 
 second was the building lease investment. 
 
 It is hard to give the pre-eminence to 
 either. They were both profound schemes 
 — neither would have been complete without 
 the other. He did not originate the idea 
 of the railway — that was done for him — 
 but he put it on its legs, and he brought 
 it to the centre of the town. 
 
 The original scheme almost omitted 
 Stirmingham. Eailways were not then 
 fully understood ; their projectors had such 
 vast ideas in their heads, they aimed at 
 long trunk lines, and so this railroad was 
 to connect London, the sea, and a certain 
 large town — larger than Stirmingham then, 
 but now nothing beside the modern city. 
 
 Sternhold, as the largest shareholder, and 
 as finding the capital to get through Par- 
 liament, prevailed to have the course altered 
 
FACTS. 49 
 
 SO as to sweep by Stirmingliam. He knew 
 that this would improve his property there 
 at least fifty per cent. But he had other 
 ideas in his head. The line could not be 
 finished under three years, and in those 
 three years it was his intention to become 
 possessed of the w^hole ground upon which 
 the tow^n of Stirmingham stood. He fore- 
 saw that it would become a mighty centre. 
 He braced up his nerves, and prepared to 
 spend his darling hoards like water. 
 
 One by one the fields, the plots, the 
 houses, became his ; and the greed growing 
 on him, he cast longing eyes on the adja- 
 cent marsh, now called Glow's Lea. 
 
 The solicitors he employed tried to 
 restrain his infatuation. They represented 
 to him that even his vast wealth could not 
 sustain this more than kingly expenditure, 
 and as to the marsh, it was sheer madness 
 to purchase it. In vain. Perhaps a tinge 
 of pride had something to do w^ith it. He 
 would buy up the rotten old Swamp where 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
50 WOELD S END. 
 
 his progenitor had dwelt, drain it, and 
 cover it with mansions. 
 
 But now came a difficulty — the title to 
 the ground was not all that could be wished. 
 James had been dead some years, but it 
 was well known that had A.rthur re- 
 turned — if Arthur still li\red, or his 
 heirs — that James had no right. He had 
 enjoj'cd the farm and the land, such as it 
 was, unmolested, all his life. He had mar- 
 ried, and had eight sons. Six of these had 
 married since, and most of them had 
 children. 
 
 As none could claim the property, they 
 all found a miserable livelihood upon it, 
 somehow or other. They had degenerated 
 into a condition little better than that of 
 the squatters in the Swamp. 
 
 Three families lived in the farm- 
 house, constantly quarrelling ; two made 
 their dwelling in the cowsheds, slightly 
 improved ; one boiled the pot in the 
 great carthouse, and the two single 
 
FACTS. 51 
 
 men slept in tlie barn. Such a con- 
 dition of slovenliness and dirt it would 
 be hard to equal. And the language, the 
 fighting, and the immorality are better 
 left undescribed ! The clergyman of Wolfs 
 Glow wished them further. 
 
 To these wretches the offers of Sternhold 
 Baskette came like the promised land. He 
 held out 3U0/. apiece, on condition that 
 ihey would jointly sign the deed and 
 then go to America. They jumped at it. 
 The solicitor warned Baskette that the con- 
 tract was not sound. He asked, in reply, 
 if any one could produce the deed under 
 which the property descended by " heir- 
 ship." No one could. Somehow or other 
 it had been lost. 
 
 In less than a month eight Sibbolds, 
 with their wives and families, were en route 
 to the United States, and Sternhold took 
 possession. Then came the Swamp settle- 
 ment difficulty. 
 
 At first Baskette thought of carrying 
 
 4—2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UMVtKSin OF aiiKOi? 
 
52 WOELD'S END. 
 
 matters with a high hand. The squatters 
 said they had lived there for two genera- 
 tions, or nearly so, and had paid no rent. 
 They had a right. Sternhold remembered 
 that they were of his clan. He gave them 
 the same terms as the Sibbolds — and they 
 took them. Three hundred pounds to such 
 miserable wretches seemed an El Dorado. 
 
 They signed a deed, and went to America, 
 filling up half a vessel, for there were 
 seventeen heads of families, and children 
 ad libitum. 
 
 Thus Sternhold bought the farm and the 
 Swamp for 7 500/. His aim in getting them 
 to America was that no question of right 
 might crop up — for the Cunard line was not 
 then what it is now, and the passage was 
 expensive and protracted. He reckoned that 
 they would spend the money soon after 
 landing, and never have a chance of re- 
 turning. 
 
 Meantime the railway came to a stand- 
 still. There had been inflation — vast sums 
 
FACTS. 53 
 
 of promotion money had been squandered 
 in the usual reckless manner, and ruin 
 stared the shareholders in the face. To 
 Sternhold it meant absolute loss of all, and 
 above everything, of prestige. 
 
 Already the keen business men of the 
 place began to sneer at him. At any cost 
 the railway must be kept on its legs. He 
 sacrificed a large share of his wealth, and 
 the works recommenced. The old swamp, 
 or marsh, was drained. 
 
 Sternhold had determined to make this 
 the Belgravia of Stirmingham, and had the 
 plans prepared accordingly. They were 
 something gigantic in costliness and mag- 
 nificence. His best friends warned and 
 begged him to desist. No ; he would go 
 on. Stirmingham would become the finest 
 city in England, and he should be the 
 richest man in Europe. Up rose palatial 
 mansions, broad streets, splendid club- 
 houses — even the foundations of a theatre 
 were laid. And all this was begun at once. 
 
64 WOELD'S END. 
 
 Otherwise, Sternhold was afraid that the 
 compass of an ordinary life would not enable 
 him to see these vast designs finished. So 
 that one might walk through streets with 
 whole blocks of houses only one story 
 high. 
 
 Everything went on swimmingly, till 
 suddenly the mania for speculation which 
 had taken possession of all the kingdom re- 
 ceived a sudden check by the failure of a 
 certain famous railway king. 
 
 As if by magic, all the mighty works at 
 Stirmingham ceased, and Sternhold grew 
 sombre, and wandered about with dejected 
 step. His friends, men of business, re- 
 minded him of their former warnings. He 
 bent his head, bit his lip, and said only, 
 " Wait !" 
 
 Meantime the line had been constructed, 
 but was not opened. The metals were 
 down, but the stations were not built, and 
 the locomotives had not arrived. Everybody 
 was going smash. Several collieries failed ; 
 
FACTS. 55 
 
 land and liouses became cheap. Sternhold 
 invested his uttermost in the same property 
 — bought houses, till he had barely enough 
 to keep him in bread and cheese. Still they 
 laughed and jeered at him, and still he said 
 only, " Wait !" 
 
 This place, this swamp, seemed to be 
 fated to demonstrate over and over again at 
 one time the futility of human calculation, 
 and at another what enormous things can 
 be accomplished by the efforts of a clever 
 man. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 HE owner of three parts of Stir- 
 mingham — now a monstrous over- 
 grown city, just building a 
 cathedral — actually had nothing but a little 
 bread and cheese for supper. There were 
 people who condoled with him, and offered 
 to lend him suras of money — not large, but 
 very useful to a starving man, one would 
 have thought. He shrugged his shoulders 
 and said, " Thank you ; I'll wait." 
 
 Certain keen speculators tried to come 
 round him in twenty different ways. They 
 represented that all this mass of bricks and 
 mortar — this unfinished Belgravia — really 
 was not worth owning ; no one could ever 
 find the coin to finish the plans, and house 
 property had depreciated ninety per cent. 
 
FACTS. 57 
 
 " Very true," said Sternliold. '' Good 
 morning, gentlemen." 
 
 He held on like grim death. Men of 
 genius always do — mark Csesar, and all of 
 them. 'Tis the bulldog that wins. 
 
 By-and-by things began to take a turn. 
 The markets looked up. Iron and coal 
 got brisker. The first locomotive was put 
 on the line, then another, and another; 
 London could be reached in two hours, 
 goods could be transmitted in six, instead of 
 thirty by the old canal or turnpike. 
 
 The Stock Exchange got busy again. 
 You could hear the masons and bricklayers 
 — chink, tink, tinkle, as their trowels chipped 
 off the edges — singing away in chorus. 
 The whistle of the engines was never silent. 
 Vast clouds of smoke hung over the country 
 from the factories and furnaces. Two or 
 three new trades were introduced — among 
 others, the plated goods, cheap jewellery, 
 and idol-making businesses, and trade-guns 
 for Africa. Rents began to rise ; in two 
 
68 WOELD'S END. 
 
 years they went up forty per cent. The 
 place got a name throughout the length and 
 breadth of the kingdom, and a Name is 
 everything to a town as well as to an 
 individual. 
 
 But by a curious contradiction, just as 
 his property began to rise in value, and 
 his investment looked promising, Sternhold 
 grew melancholy and walked about more 
 wretched than ever. The truth soon leaked 
 out — he had no money to complete his 
 half-finished streets and blocks of houses. 
 Nothing could induce him to borrow ; not 
 a halfpenny would he take from any man. 
 
 There the streets and houses, the 
 theatres, club-houses, magnificent mansions, 
 huge hotels, languished, half-finished, some 
 a story, some two stories high, exposed 
 to wind and weather. In the midst of a 
 great city there was all this desolation, as 
 if an enemy had wreaked his vengeance on 
 this quarter only. 
 
 Large as were the sums derived from 
 
FACTS. 59 
 
 his other properties — houses and shops and 
 land, which were occupied — it was all eaten 
 up in the attempt to finish this marble Eome 
 in the middle of a brick Babylon. Heavy 
 amounts too had to be disbursed to keep 
 the railway going, for it did not pay a 
 fraction of dividend yet. Men of business 
 pressed on Sternhold. " Let us complete 
 the place," they said. " Sell it to us on 
 building leases ; no one man can do the whole. 
 Then we will form three or four companies 
 or syndicates, lease it of you, complete the 
 buildings, and after seventy years the whole 
 will revert to you or your heirs." 
 
 Still Sternhold hesitated. At last he did 
 lease a street or two in this way to a com- 
 pany, who went to work like mad, paid the 
 masons and bricklayers double wages, kept 
 them at it day and night, and speedily were 
 paying twenty per cent, dividends on their 
 shares out of the rents of the completed 
 buildings. This caused a rush. Company 
 after company was formed. They gave 
 
60 WORLD'S END. 
 
 Sternhold heavy premiums for the privilege 
 to buy of him ; even then it was difficult to 
 get him to grant the leases. When he did 
 accept the terms and the ready cash, every 
 halfpenny of it went to complete streets on 
 his own account ; and so he lived, as it 
 were, from hand to mouth. 
 
 After all this excitement and rush, after 
 some thousands of workmen were put at it, 
 they did not seem to make much impression 
 upon the huge desolation of brick and 
 mortar. Streets and squares rose up, and 
 still there were acres upon acres of wilder- 
 ness, foundations half-dug out and full of 
 dirty water, walls three feet high, cellars 
 extending heaven only knew where. 
 
 People came for miles to see it, and called 
 it " Baskette's Folly/' After a while, how- 
 ever, they carefully avoided it, and called it 
 something worse — i.e., "The Rookery;" for 
 all the scum and ruffianism of an excep- 
 tionally scummy and ruffianly residuum 
 chose it as their stronghold. Thieves and 
 
FACTS. 61 
 
 worse — ill-conditioned women — crowds of 
 lads, gipsies, pedlars — the catalogue would 
 be as long as Homer's — took up their resi- 
 dence in these foundations and cellars. 
 They seized on the planks which were 
 lying about in enormous piles, and roofed 
 over the low walls; and where planks would 
 not do they got canvas. 
 
 Now, it is well known that this class of 
 people do not do much harm when they are 
 scattered about and separated here, there, 
 and everywhere over a city ; but as soon as 
 they are concentrated in one spot, then it 
 becomes serious. Gangs are formed, they 
 increase in boldness ; the police are defied, 
 and not a house is safe. 
 
 This place became a crying evil. The 
 papers raved about it, the police (there 
 were police now) complained and reported it 
 to head-quarters. There was a universal 
 clamour. By this time Stirmingham had 
 got a corporation, aldermen, and mayor, 
 who met in a gorgeous Guildhall, and were 
 
• 62 WORLD'S END. 
 
 all sharp men of business. Now the cor- 
 poration began to move in this matter of 
 "Baskette's Folly." Outside people gave 
 them the credit of being good citizens, 
 animated by patriotic motives, anxious for 
 the honour of their town, and desirous of 
 repressing crime. Keen thinkers knew 
 better — the Corporation was not above a 
 good stroke of business. However, what 
 they did was this : After a great deal of 
 talk and palaver, and passing resolutions, 
 and consulting attorneys, and goodness 
 knows what, one morning a deputation 
 waited upon Sternhold Baskette, Esq., at 
 his hotel (he always lived at an hotel), and 
 laid before him a handsome proposition. 
 It was to the effect that he should lease 
 them the said " Folly," or incomplete 
 embryo city, for a term of years, in con- 
 sideration whereof they would pay down 
 a certain sum, and contract to erect 
 buildings according to plans and specifica- 
 tions agreed upon, the whole to revert 
 
FACTS. 63 
 
 in seventy years to Sternhold or his 
 heirs. 
 
 Sternhold fought hard — he asked for 
 extravagant terms, and had to be brought 
 to reason by a threat of an appeal by the 
 Corporation to Parliament for a private 
 Act. 
 
 This sobered him, for he was never quite 
 happy in his secret mind about his title. 
 Terms were agreed upon, the earnest money 
 paid, and the masons began to work. Then 
 suddenly there was an uproar. The com- 
 panies or syndicates who had leased portions 
 of the estate grew alarmed lest this enor- 
 mous undertaking should, when finished, 
 depreciate their property. They cast about 
 for means of opposing it. It is said — but 
 I cannot believe it — that they gave secret 
 pay to the thieves and ruffians in the cellars 
 to fight the masons and bricklayers, and 
 drive them oflf. 
 
 At all events serious collisions occurred. 
 But the Corporation was too strong. They 
 
64 WOELD'S END. 
 
 telegraphed to London and got reinforce- 
 ments, and carried the entrenchments by 
 storm. 
 
 Then, so goes the discreditable rumour, 
 the companies bribed the masons and brick- 
 layers, who built so badly that every now 
 and then houses fell in, and there was a 
 fine loss ! Finally they got up an agitation, 
 cried down the Corporation for wasting 
 public funds, and, what was far more serious, 
 brought high legal authority to prove that 
 as a Corporation they had no power to 
 pledge themselves to such terms as they 
 had, or indeed to enter into such a contract 
 without polling the whole city. 
 
 This alarmed the Corporation. There 
 were secret meetings and long faces. But 
 if one lawyer discovers a difficulty, another 
 can always suggest a way round the corner. 
 The Corporation went to Parliament, and 
 got a private Act ; but they did not go as 
 a body. They went through Sternhold, 
 who was persuaded; and indeed it looked 
 
FACTS. 65 
 
 plausible, that by so doing, and by getting 
 the sanction of the House of Commons, he 
 improved his own title. 
 
 Then the Corporation smiled, and built 
 away faster than ever. In the course of an 
 almost incredibly short time the vast plans 
 of Sternhold were completed by the various 
 companies, by the Corporation, and by him- 
 himself; for every penny he got as pre- 
 mium, every penny of ground-rent, every 
 penny from his collieries, iron-furnaces, and 
 cut-nail factories, went in bricks and mor- 
 tar. It was the most magnificent scheme, 
 perhaps, ever started by a single man. The 
 city was proud of it. Like Augustus, he 
 had found it brick, and left it marble. 
 
 Yet, in reality, he was no richer. The 
 largest owner, probably, of house property 
 in the world, he could but just pay his way 
 at his hotel. Although he had a fine 
 country house (which old Eomy had pur- 
 chased) in the suburbs, he never used it — 
 it was let. He preferred a hotel as a 
 
 VOL. I. 5 
 
66 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 single man because there was no trouble 
 to look after servants, &c. He lived in tbe 
 most economical manner — being obliged to, 
 in fact. 
 
 Yet this very economy increased the popu- 
 lar belief in his riches. He was a miser. 
 Give a man that name, let it once stick to 
 him, and there is no limit to the fables that 
 will be eagerly received as truth. Give a 
 dog a bad name and hang him. Call a 
 man a miser, and, if he is so inclined, he 
 can roll in borrowed money, dine every day 
 on presents of game and fish, and marry 
 any one he chooses. I only wish I had the 
 reputation. 
 
 Xo one listened to Sternhold's constant 
 reiteration of what was true — that he was 
 reall}^ poor. It w^as looked upon as the 
 usual stock-in-trade language of a miser. 
 His fame spread. Popular rumour mag- 
 nified and magnified the tale till it became 
 like a chapter from the Arabian Nights. 
 
 After all, there was some grain of truth 
 
FACTS. 67 
 
 in it. If he could have grasped all that 
 was his, he would have surpassed all that 
 was said about his riches. 
 
 At last the Stirmingliam Daily Neios hit 
 upon a good idea to out-distance its great 
 rival the Siirmingliavi Daily Post, This 
 idea was a " Life of Sternhold Baskette, the 
 Miser of Stirmingham." After the editor 
 had considered a little, he struck out 
 *' miser," and wrote " capitalist" — it had a 
 bisreer sound. 
 
 The manuscript was carefully got up in 
 secret by the able editor and two of his 
 staff, who watched Sternhold like detectives, 
 and noted all his peculiarities of physiognomy 
 and manner. They knew — these able edi- 
 tors know everything — that the public are 
 particularly curious how much salt and 
 pepper their heroes use, what colour neck- 
 tie they wear, and so on. As the editor 
 said, they wanted to make Sternhold the one 
 grand central figure — perfect, complete in 
 every detail. And they did it. 
 
68 WORLD'S END. 
 
 They traced his origin and pedigree — this 
 last was not quite accurate, but near 
 enough. They devoted 150 pages to a 
 mere catalogue of his houses, his streets, his 
 squares, club-houses, theatres, hotels, rail- 
 ways, collieries, ironworks, nail factories, 
 estates, country mansions, &c. They 
 wrote 200 pages of speculations as to 
 the actual value of this enormous pro- 
 perty ; and modestly put the total figure at 
 " something under twenty millions, and will 
 be worth half as much again in ten years." 
 They did not forget the building leases ; 
 when these fell in, said the memoir, he or 
 his heirs would have an income of 750,000/. 
 per annum. 
 
 They carefully chronicled the fact that 
 the capitalist had never married, that he had 
 no son or daughter, that he was growing 
 old, or, at least, past middle age, and had 
 never been known to recognise any one as 
 his relation (having, in fact, shipped the 
 whole family to America). What a glorious 
 
TACTS. 69 
 
 thing this would be for some lucky fellow 1 
 They finished up with a photograph of 
 Sternhold himself. This was difficult to 
 obtain. He was a morose, retiring man — 
 he had never, so far as was known, had his 
 portrait taken. It was quite certain that no 
 persuasion would induce him to sit for it. 
 The able editor, however, was not to be 
 done. On some pretext or other Sternhold 
 was got to the office of the paper, and while 
 he sat conversing with the editor, the photo- 
 grapher " took him" through a hole made 
 for the purpose in the wooden partition 
 between the editor's and sub-editor's room. 
 As Sternhold was quite unconscious, the 
 portrait was really a very good one. Suddenly 
 the world was taken by storm with a '' Life 
 of Sternhold Baskette, the Capitalist of Stir- 
 mingham . His enormous riches, pedigree, &c. , 
 500 pages, post 8vo, illustrated, price Is. 6<^." 
 The able editor did not confine himself to 
 Stirmingham. Before the book was announced 
 he made his London arrangements, also with 
 
70 AYOELD'S EXD. 
 
 the lessees of the railway bookstalls. At one 
 and the same moment of time, one morning 
 Stirmingham woke up to find itself placarded 
 with huge yellow bills (iheNews w^as Liberal 
 then — it turned its coat later on — and boasted 
 that John Bright had been to the office), 
 bovs ran about distributinp^ handbills at 
 every door, men stood at the street corners 
 handing them to everybody who passed. 
 
 Flaring posters w^ere stuck up at every 
 railway station in the kino^dom : ditto in 
 London. The dead w^alls and hoardings 
 w^ere covered with yellow paper printed in 
 letters a foot long. Three hundred agents, 
 bovs, skirls, and men, walked all over the 
 metropolis crying incessantly' " Twenty 
 Millions of Money," and handing bills and 
 cards to every one. The Atheneeum, Safur- 
 day Bevieio, Sj)ectator, and Times; every 
 paper, magazine, review; every large paper 
 in the country had an advertisement. The 
 result was something extraordinary. 
 
 The name of Sternhold Easkette was on 
 
FACTS. 71 
 
 everybody's lips. His " Twenty Millions of 
 Money" echoed from mouth to mouth, 
 from Land's End to John o' Gfroats. It 
 crossed the Channel, it crossed the Alps, it 
 crossed the Atlantic and the Pacific. It 
 was heard on the Peak of TenerifFe, and in 
 the cities of India. 
 
 The Xew York firms seized on it as a 
 mine of wealth. The book, reprinted, was 
 sold from the Hudson Eiver to the Eocky 
 Mountains, and to the mouth of the Mis- 
 sissippi for twenty cents. The circulation 
 was even lar^rer in the United States than 
 in Britain, for there everybody worshipped 
 the dollar. The able editor made his for- 
 tune. The book ran through thirty editions, 
 and wore out two printing machines and 
 three sets of type. The two gentlemen of 
 the staff who had assisted in the compilation 
 had a fair share, and speedily put on airs. 
 They claimed the authorship, though the 
 idea had certainly originated with the 
 editor. There was a quarrel. They left. 
 
72 WOELD'S END. 
 
 being offered higher salaries in this way : — 
 The other paper, the Fost, though blue in 
 principles, grew green with envy, and tried 
 to disparage as much as possible. They 
 offered these respectable gentlemen large 
 incomes to cut the book to pieces that 
 they themselves had written. No one 
 could do it better — no one understood the 
 weak points, and the humbug of the thing 
 so well. The fellows went to work with a 
 will. The upshot was a little warfare be- 
 tween the Sternholders and the anti-Stern- 
 holders. The News upheld Sternhold, stuck 
 to everything it had stated, and added 
 more. The Post disparaged him in every 
 possible way. This newspaper war had its 
 results, as we shall presently see. For the 
 present these two noble principled young 
 men, who first wrote a book for pay and then 
 engaged to chop it into mincemeat for pay^ 
 may be left to search and search into the Bas- 
 kette by- gone history for fresh foul matter to 
 pour forth on the hero of Stirmingham. 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 HE Hero of Stirmingham ;" so the 
 News dubbed him; so it became 
 the fashion, either in ridicule or 
 in earnest, to call him. People came from 
 all parts to see him. Every one who, on 
 business or pleasure, came to the city, tried 
 to lodge at the hotel where he lived, or at 
 least called there on the chance of meeting 
 the mortal representative of Twenty Mil- 
 lions Sterling. The hotel proprietor, who 
 had previously lost money by him, and 
 execrated his economy, now reaped a 
 golden harvest, and found his business so 
 large that he set about building a monster 
 place at one side of the original premises, 
 for he was afraid to pull it down lest the 
 capitalist should leave. 
 
74 WOELD'S EKD. 
 
 Now a curious psychological change was 
 wrought by all this in old Sternhold's cha- 
 racter. Up till this period of his life he 
 had been one of the most retiring and 
 reserved of men, morose, self-absorbed, 
 shrinking from observation. He now be- 
 came devoured with an insatiable vanity. 
 He could not shake off the habit of eco- 
 nom}", the frugal manner of living, which 
 he had so long practised ; but his mind 
 underwent a complete revolution. 
 
 It has often been observed that when a 
 man makes one particular subject his study, 
 in course of time that which was once clear 
 grows obscure, and instead of acquiring ex- 
 traordinary insight, he loses all method, and 
 wanders. 
 
 Something of the kind was the case- 
 with Sternhold. All his life had been 
 devoted to the one great object of owning 
 a city, of being the largest proprietor of 
 houses and streets in the world. His whole 
 thought, energy, strength, patience — his 
 
FACTS. 75 
 
 entire being — had been concentrated npon 
 this eod. In actual fact, it was not at- 
 tained yet, for he was practically only the 
 nominal owner ; but the publication of this 
 book acted in a singular manner upon his 
 brain. He grew to believe that he reall}^ 
 was all that the " Life" represented him 
 to be — i.e., the most extraordinary man the 
 world had ever seen. 
 
 He attempted no state, he set up no 
 carriage ; he stuck to his old confined 
 apartments at the hotel he had always 
 frequented; but he lived in an ideal life 
 of sovereign grandeur. He talked as 
 though he were a monarch — an absolute 
 autocrat — as if all the inhabitants of Stir- 
 mingham were his subjects ; and boasted 
 that he could turn two hundred thousand 
 people out of doors by a single word. 
 
 In plain language, he lost his head ; in 
 still plainer language^ he went harmlessly 
 mad — not so mad that any one even hinted 
 at such a thing. There was no lunacy in. 
 
76 WOELD'S END. 
 
 his appearance or daily life ; but the great 
 chords of the mind were undoubtedly at this 
 period of his existence quite deranged. 
 
 He really was getting rich now. The 
 houses he had himself completed, with the 
 premiums paid for building leases, began to 
 return a considerable profit. The income 
 from his collieries and factories was so 
 large, that even bricks and mortar could 
 not altogether absorb it. Perhaps he was 
 in receipt of three thousand pounds per 
 annum, or more. But now, unfortunately, 
 just as the fruits of his labour were fast 
 ripening, this abominable book upset it 
 all. 
 
 There can be no doubt that the editor of 
 the Stirmingham Daily Neios, with the best 
 intentions in the world, dealt his Hero two 
 mortal wounds. In the first place, he drove 
 him mad. Sternhold spent days and nights 
 studying how he could exceed what he had 
 already done. 
 
 Dressed in a workman's garb for dis- 
 
. FACTS. 7? 
 
 guise, he explored the whole neighbourhood 
 of Stirmingham, seeking fresh land to pur- 
 chase. His object was to get it cheap, for 
 he knew that if there was the slightest 
 suspicion that he was after it, a high price 
 would be asked. In some instances he 
 succeeded. One or two cases are known 
 where he bought, with singular judgment 
 and remarkable shrewdness, large tracts for 
 very small sums. He paid only one-fifth 
 on completion, leaving the remainder on 
 mortgage. This enabled him to buy five 
 times as much at once as would have other- 
 wise been possible. 
 
 But there were sharp fellows in Stir- 
 mingham, who watched the capitalist like 
 hawks, and soon spied out what was going 
 on. Their game was to first discover in 
 what direction Sternhold was buying in 
 secret, then to forestall him, and nearly 
 double the price when he arrived. 
 
 In this way Sternhold got rid of every 
 shining of his income. Even then he might 
 
78 WOELD'S END. 
 
 have prospered ; but, as bad luck would have 
 it, the railway, after two millions of money 
 had been sunk on it, actually began to pay 
 dividends of three and a half per cent., then 
 four, then six ; for a clever fellow had got at 
 the helm, and was forcing up the market so 
 as to make hay while the sun shone. 
 
 Sternhold was in raptures with railways. 
 Some sharp young men of forty-five and 
 fifty immediately laid their heads together, 
 and projected a second railway at almost right 
 angles — not such a bad idea, but one likely 
 to cause enormous outlay. They repre- 
 sented to Sternhold that this new line would 
 treble the value of the property he had re- 
 cently bought, extending for some miles 
 beyond the city. He jumped at it. The 
 Bill was got through Parliament. One half 
 of these sharp young men were law^^ers, the 
 other half engineers and contractors. 
 
 Sternhold deposited the money, and they 
 shared it between them. AVhen the money 
 was exhausted the railway languished. This 
 
PACTS. 79 
 
 exasperated old Baskette. For the first 
 tiroe in his life he borrowed money, and did 
 it on a royal scale ; — I am almost afraid to 
 say how much, and certainly it seems odd 
 how people could advance so much knowing 
 his cii'cumstances. 
 
 However, he got it. He bought up all 
 the shares, and became practically owner of 
 the new line. He completed it, and rode 
 on the first locomotive in triumph, sur- 
 rounded by his parasites. For alas ! he had 
 yielded to parasites at last, who flattered 
 and fooled him to perfection. This was the 
 state of affairs when the second mortal 
 wound was given. 
 
 It happened in this way. The " Life of 
 Sternhold Baskette, Esq.," had, as was stated, 
 got abroad, and penetrated even to the 
 Bocky Mountains. It w^as quoted, and long 
 extracts made from it in the cheap press — 
 they had a cheap press in the United States 
 thirty 3^ears before v/e had, which accounts 
 for the larger proportion of educated or 
 
80 WOELD'S END. 
 
 partly educated people, and the wider spread 
 of intelligence. After a while, somehow or 
 other, the marvellous story reached the ears 
 of one or two persons who happened to sign 
 their names Baskette, and they began to say 
 to themselves, "What the deuce is this? 
 We rather guess we come from Stirmingham 
 or somewhere thereabouts. Now, why 
 shouldn't we share in this mine of 
 wealth ?" 
 
 The sharp Yankee intellect began to have 
 " idees." Most of the cotters whom Stern- 
 hold had transhipped to America thirty 
 years or more previous, were dead and buried 
 — that is to say, the old people were. 
 
 The air of America is too thin and fine, 
 and the life too fast, for middle-aged men 
 who have been accustomed to the foggy 
 atmosphere and the slow passage of events 
 in the Old Country. But it is a tremendous 
 place for increase of population. 
 
 The United States are only just a century 
 old, and they have a population larger than 
 
FACTS. 81 
 
 Great Britain, which has a history of twenty 
 centuries, or nearly so. 
 
 So it happened that, although the old 
 people were dead, the tribe had marvellously 
 increased. Half who were transhipped had 
 borne the name of Baskette. This same 
 question was asked in forty or fifty places at 
 once — " My name is Baskette ; why should 
 not I share ?'' 
 
 These people had, of course, little or no 
 recollection of the deed signed by their fore- 
 fathers : and if they had had a perfect 
 knowledge, such a trifling difficulty as that 
 was not one calculated to appal a Yankee's 
 ingenuity. When once the question had 
 been asked it was repeated, and grew and 
 grew, and passed from man to man, made 
 its appearance in the newspapers, who even 
 went so far as to say that the finest city in 
 England, the very workshop of the Britishers, 
 belonged to United States citizens. 
 
 Some editor keener than the rest, or who 
 had read the book more carefully, pointed 
 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
82 WOELD'S EXD. 
 
 out that the capitalist had no heirs living, 
 that he had never been married, and no one 
 knew to whom all this vast wealth would 
 descend. 
 
 Twenty millions sterling begging a heir 1 
 This was enough to set the American mind 
 aflame. It was just like applying a lighted 
 match to one of their petroleum wells. 
 
 The paragraph flew from paper to paper, 
 was quoted, conned, and talked over. Men 
 grew excited. Presently, here and there 
 one who considered that he had some claim 
 beofan to steal off to Em:i'land to make in- 
 quiries. The Cunard Vv^ere running now, 
 though they had not yet invented the 
 '' ocean highway,'' by keeping to a course 
 nothing to the north or south of a certain 
 line. Passage was very quick, and not 
 dear. In a little time the fact that one or 
 two had started oozed out, then others fol- 
 lowed, and were joined by a lawyer or so, 
 till at last fourteen or fifteen keen fellows 
 
 reached StirmiD^-ham. 
 
FACTS. 83 
 
 Now mark the acuteness of the American 
 mind ! Instead of announcing their arrival, 
 every one of these fellows kept quiet, and 
 said not a word ! When they met each 
 other in the streets they only smiled. 
 They were not going to alarm the game. 
 
 These gentlemen were not long in Stir- 
 mingham before they found out that the 
 StirminglLam Daily Post was a deadly enemy 
 of old Sternhold. To the office of the 
 second able editor they tramped accordingly. 
 There they learnt a good deal; but in 
 return the editor pumped something out of 
 them, and, being well np in the matter, 
 sniffed out their objects. He chuckled and 
 rubbed his hands together. Here was a 
 chance for an awful smash at the News. 
 
 One fine mornino^ out came a leadinoj' 
 article referring also to several columns of 
 other matter on the same subject, headed 
 "The Heirs of Stirmingham." 
 
 Being Blue, you see, the Post affected to 
 abominate United States' Eepublicanisni 
 
 G— 2 
 
84 WORLD'S END. 
 
 and all the American institutions. This 
 article recounted the visit of the dozen or so 
 of possible claimants, described them so 
 minutely that no one could help recognising 
 them, and wound up with a tremendous 
 peroration calling upon all good citizens to 
 do their best to prevent the renowned city 
 of Stirmingham falling into the hands of 
 the Yankees ! 
 
 Such property as Sternhold's, the article 
 argued, was of national importance ; and 
 although the individual should not be inter- 
 fered with, the nation should see that its 
 rights were not tampered with. There was 
 danger of such tampering, for who knew 
 what an infirm old man like Sternhold might 
 not be led to sign by interested parties? 
 At his age he could not be expected to 
 possess the decision and mental firmness of 
 earlier years. This was a cruel hit at 
 Sternhold's mental weakness, which had 
 begun to grow apparent. 
 
 An endeavour should be made to find an 
 
FACTS. 85 
 
 English lieir, and that there was such a 
 heir they (the staff of the Post) firmly 
 believed. Two gentlemen of the staff 
 (meaning thereby the late writers for the 
 News), who had devoted some time to the 
 matter, had made a certain important dis- 
 covery. This was nothing less than the fact 
 that Sternhold had had an uncle ! This in 
 big capital letters. 
 
 An Uncle. Then followed a little 
 bit of genealogy, in approved fashion, with 
 dashes, lines, &c. — the meaning of which 
 was that Sternhold's father, old Eomy 
 Baskette, had had a brother, who, when 
 the original Will Baskette was shot, had 
 departed into the unknown with his 
 mother. 
 
 What had become of Eomy's brother? 
 The probability was that by this time he 
 was dead and buried. But there was also 
 the probability that he had married and 
 had children. Those children, if they 
 existed, were undoubtedly the nearest heirs 
 
86 WORLD'S E^^D. 
 
 of Sternhold Baskette, Esq., now residing 
 at Dodd's Hotel, South Street. As an 
 earnest of tlie anxiety of the Fost to pre- 
 serve the good city of Stirmingham from 
 Yankee contamination, they now offered 
 three rewards : — First, fifty pounds for 
 proof of Eomy's brother's death ; secondly, 
 one hundred pounds for proof of Eomy's 
 brother's marriage, if he had married ; 
 thirdly, one hundred and fifty pounds for 
 the identification of his child or children. 
 This was repeated as an advertisement in 
 the outer sheet, and was kept in type for 
 months. 
 
 It deserves notice as being the first 
 advertisement which appeared in the Grreat 
 Easkette Claim Case — the first of a crop of 
 advertisements which in time became a 
 regular source of income to newspaper 
 proprietors. 
 
 When this leading article and advertise- 
 ment, supported by several columns of 
 descriptive matter and genealogies was laid 
 
FACTS. 87 
 
 on the breakfast tables of half Stirmingham, 
 it caused a sensation. The city suddenly 
 woke up to the fact that as soon as old 
 Sternhold died half the place would have no 
 owner. 
 
 The Yankee visitors now had no further 
 reason for concealment. They went about 
 openly making inquiries. They were feted 
 at hotel bars and in billiard rooms. They 
 called upon Sternhold bodily — en masse — 
 forced themselves into his apartment, 
 though he shut the door with his own 
 hands in their faces, shook him by the 
 hand, patted him on the shoulder, called 
 him " Colonel," and asked him what he 
 would take to drink ! 
 
 They walked round him, admired him 
 from every point of view, stuck their fingers 
 in • his ribs, and reall}" meant no harm, 
 though their manners were not quite of tlie 
 drawing-room order. 
 
 They cut up the old man's favourite arm- 
 chair, whittled it up, to carry away as 
 
WOELD'S END. 
 
 souvenirs. Tbey appropriated his books — 
 liis own particular penholder, with which he 
 had written every letter and signed every 
 deed for fifty years, disappeared, and was 
 afterwards advertised as on show at Barnum's 
 in New York City, as the Pen which could 
 sign a cheque for Twenty Millions ! 
 
 When at last they did leave, one popped 
 back, and asked if the "Coloner' believed 
 this story about his Uncle ? He was sure he 
 had never had an uncle, wasn't he ? The old 
 man sat silent, which the inquirer took for 
 once as a negative, and wrote a letter 
 to the News, denying the existence of 
 Eomy^s brother. 
 
 Poor old Sternhold was found by the 
 landlord, old Dodd, sitting in his chair, 
 which was all cut and slashed, two hours 
 afterwards, staring straight at the wall. 
 
 Dodd feared he had an attack of paralysis^ 
 and ran for the nearest doctor ; but it was 
 nothing but literally speechless indignation. 
 After awhile he got up and walked about 
 
FACTS. 
 
 89 
 
 the room, and took a little dry sherrj' — his 
 favourite wine. But the mortal wound 
 No. 2 had been given. Henceforth the one 
 great question in Sternhold's mind was his 
 heir. 
 
CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 IS lieir ! Sternhold seriously believed 
 that he had no living relations. It 
 is often said that poor people have 
 plenty of children, while the rich, to whom 
 they would be welcome, have few or none. 
 This was certainly a case in point. The 
 poor Baskettes, who had been shipped to 
 America, had a whole tribe of descendants. 
 Here was a man who, nominally at least, 
 was the largest owner of property known, 
 who was childless, and had already reached 
 and exceeded the allotted age of man. 
 
 Sternhold was seventy-two. He looked 
 back and ransacked his memory. He had 
 never heard anything of this uncle, his father's 
 brother ; his mother's friends were all dead. 
 There was not a soul for whom he cared a 
 
FACTS. 91 
 
 snap of his fingers. Firstly, he had no 
 relations ; secondly, he had no friends, for 
 Sternhold, wide as was his circle of ac- 
 quaintances, had never been known to visit 
 any one. His life had been solitary and 
 self-absorbed. 
 
 Xow, for the first time, he felt his loneli- 
 ness, and understood that he was a solitary 
 beins:. Who should be his heir? Who 
 should succeed to that mighty edifice he 
 had slowly built up? The architect had 
 been obliged to be content with gazing 
 upon the outside of his work only ; but 
 the successor, if he only lived the usual 
 time, would revel in realised magnificence 
 unsurpassed. The old man was quite 
 staggered, and went about as in a dream. 
 
 The idea once started, there were plenty 
 who improved upon it. The Corporation at 
 their meetings incidentally alluded to the 
 matter, and it was delicately suggested 
 that Sternhold would crown his memory 
 with ineJQfable glory if he devised his vast 
 
92 WORLD'S END. 
 
 estate to the city. Such a bequest in a 
 few years would make the place absolutely 
 free from taxation. The rents would meet 
 poor's-rates, gas-rates, water-rates, sanitary- 
 rates, and all. One gentleman read an 
 elaborate series of statistics, proving that 
 the income from the property, when once 
 the building leases fell in, would not only 
 free the city from local, but almost, if not 
 quite, from imperial taxation. There were 
 many instances in history of kings, as 
 rewards for great services, issuing an order 
 that certain towns should be exempt from 
 the payment of taxes for a series of years. 
 Sternhold had it thus in his power to 
 display really regal munificence. 
 
 Other gentlemen of more radical leanings 
 cried " Shame!" on the mere fact of one man 
 being permitted to attain such powers. It 
 was absurd for one man to possess such 
 gigantic wealth, and for several hundred 
 thousand to live from hand to mouth. 
 The people should share it, not as a gift. 
 
FACTS. 93 
 
 but as a right ; it should be seized for the 
 benefit of the community. 
 
 The Corporation people were much too 
 knowing to talk like this. They went to 
 work in a clever way. First, they contrived 
 various great banquets, to which Sternhold 
 was invited, and at which he was put in 
 the seat of honour and lauded to the skies. 
 Next, they formed a committee and erected 
 a statue in a prominent place to the founder 
 of Stirmingham, and unveiled it with im- 
 mense ceremony. Certain funds had been 
 previously set apart for the building of a 
 public library ; this being completed about 
 that time, was named the Sternhold Insti- 
 tute. An open space or " park," which the 
 Corporation had been obliged to provide for 
 the seething multitudes who were so closely 
 crowded together, was called the Sternhold 
 Public Park. Yet Sternhold never sub- 
 scribed a farthing to either of these. 
 
 Nothing was left undone to turn his 
 head. His portrait, life-size, painted in oil. 
 
94 WOELD'S END. 
 
 was hung up in the Council-hall; medals 
 were struct to commemorate his birthday. 
 The Corporation were not alone in their 
 endeavours ; other disinterested parties were 
 hard at work. Most energetic of all were 
 the religious people. Chapel projectors, 
 preachers, church extension societies, mis- 
 sionary associations, flew at his throat. 
 His letter-box was flooded; hi^ door was 
 for ever resounding with knocking and 
 ringing. The sound of the true clerical 
 nasal twans^ was never silent in his ante- 
 room. The hospitals came down on him 
 flat in one lump, more particularly those 
 establishments which publicly boast that 
 they never solicit assistance, and are sup- 
 ported by voluntary contributions caused 
 by prayer. 
 
 The dodge is to publish "^x^fact as loudly 
 as possible. To proclaim' that the institu- 
 tion urgently wants a few thousands is not 
 besrsino'. A list of all the charities that 
 recommended themselves to his notice would 
 
FACTS. 95 
 
 fill three chapters : then the patentees — the 
 literary people who ^vere prepared to write 
 memoirs, biographies, &c. — would have to 
 be omitted. 
 
 Xow here is a singular paradox. If a 
 poor wretched mortal, barely clothed in 
 rags, his shoes off his feet, starving with 
 hunger, houseless, homeless, w^ho hath not 
 where to lay his head, asks you for a cop- 
 per, it means seven days' imprisonment as 
 a rogue. If all the clergymen and minis- 
 ters, the secretaries, and so forth, come in 
 crowds begging for hundreds and thousands, 
 it is meritorious, and is applauded. 
 
 Now this is worthy of study as a phe- 
 nomenon of society. But these w^ere not 
 all. Sternhold had another class of appli- 
 cants, wdiom we will not call ladies, or even 
 women, but females (what a hatefal word 
 female is), who approached him pretty mucli 
 as the Shah was approached by every post 
 while in London and Paris. 
 
 He was deluged with photographs of — 
 
96 WORLD'S END. 
 
 females. Not disreputable characters either 
 — not of Drurj Lane or Ha3miarket dis- 
 tinction, but of that class who use the 
 columns of the newspapers to advertise 
 their matrimonial propensities. Tall, short, 
 dark, light, stout, thin, they poured in upon 
 him by hundreds ; all ready, willing, and 
 waiting. 
 
 Most were " thoroughly domesticated and 
 musical ;'' some were penetrated with the 
 serious responsibilities of the position of a 
 wife ; others were filled with hopes of the 
 life to come (having failed in this). 
 
 Some men would have enjoyed all this ; 
 some would have smiled ; others would 
 have flung the lot into the waste-basket. 
 Sternhold was too methodical and too much 
 imbued with business habits to take any- 
 thing as a good joke. He read every letter, 
 looked at every photograph, numbered and 
 docketed them, and carefully put them 
 away. 
 
 Other efforts were made to get at him. 
 
FACTS. 97 
 
 He had parasites — men who hung on him 
 — lickspittles- To a certain extent he 
 yielded to the titillation of incessant lau- 
 dation ; and, if he did not encourage, did 
 not repel them. They never ceased to fan 
 his now predominant vanity. They argued 
 that the Corporation and all the rest were 
 influenced by selfish motives (which was 
 true). They begged him not to forget what 
 was due to himself — not to annihilate and 
 obliterate himself It v/as true he was 
 aged ; but aged men — especially men who 
 had led temperate lives like himself — fre- 
 quently had children. In plain words, they 
 one and all persuaded him to marry; and 
 they one and all had a petticoated friend 
 who would just suit him. 
 
 Sternhold seemed very impassive and im- 
 moveable ; but the fact w^as that all this 
 had stirred him deeply. He began to 
 seriously contemplate marriage. He brooded 
 over the idea. He was not a sentimental 
 man ; he had not even a spark of what is 
 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
■98 WOELD'S END. 
 
 called human nature in the sense of desiring 
 to see merry children playing around him. 
 But he looked upon himself as a mighty 
 monarch; and as a mighty monarch he 
 wished more and more every day to found 
 not only a kingdom, but a dynasty. 
 
 This appears to be a weakness from which 
 even the greatest of men are not exempt. 
 Napoleon the Great could not resist the 
 idea. It is the one sole object of almost 
 all such men whose history is recorded. 
 Occasionally they succeed; more often it 
 destroys them. Some say Cromwell had 
 hopes in that direction. 
 
 So far the parasites, the photographs, 
 the stir that was made about it, affected 
 Sternhold. But if he was mad, he was mad 
 in his own wav. He was not to be led 
 by the nose ; but those who knew him best 
 could see that he was meditating action. 
 
 Dodd, the landlord of the hotel, was 
 constantly bothered and worried for his 
 opinion on the subject. At last, said Dodd, 
 
FACTS. 99 
 
 ^^ I think the Corporation have wasted their 
 money." And they had. 
 
 In this unromantic country the human 
 form divine has not that opportunity to 
 display itself which was graciously afforded 
 to the youth of both sexes in the classic 
 <lays of Greece, when the virgins of Sparta, 
 iheir lovely limbs anointed with oil, wrestled 
 nude in the arena. 
 
 The nearest approach to those " good old 
 times" which our modern prudery admits, 
 is the short skirts and the " tights" of the 
 ballet. 
 
 Sternhold, deeply pondering, arrived at 
 the notion, true or false, that the wife for 
 him must possess physical development. 
 
 This is a delicate subject to dwell on ; but 
 I think he was mistaken when he visited the 
 theatres seeking such a person. He might 
 have found ladies, not females nor women, 
 but ladies in a rank of life nearer or above 
 his own, who exulted in the beauty of their 
 form, and were endowed with Xature's 
 
 7—2 
 
100 WORLD'S END. 
 
 richest gifts of shape. But he was a child 
 in such a search : his ideas were rude and 
 primitive to the last degree. At all events, 
 the fact remains. 
 
 It was found out afterwards that he had 
 visited every theatre in London, but finally 
 was suited on the boards of a fourth-rate 
 " gaff" in Stirmingham itself. 
 
 There was a girl there — or rather a woman, 
 for she w^as all five-and-twenty — who was 
 certainly as fine a specimen of female 
 humanity as ever walked. Tall, but not too 
 tall, she presented a splendid development 
 of bust, torso, and limbs. Her skin was of 
 that peculiar dusky hue — not dark, but 
 dusky — which gives the idea of intense 
 vitality. Her eyes were as coals of fire — 
 large, black, deep-set, under heavy eyebrows. 
 Her hair at' a distance was superb — like 
 night in hue, and glossy, curling in rich 
 masses. Examined closer it was coarse, like 
 wire. Her nose was the worse feature; it 
 wanted shape, definition. It was a decided 
 
FACTS. 101 
 
 retrouss^, and thick ; but in the flusli of her 
 brilliant colour, her really grand carriage, 
 this was passed over. Her lips were scarlet, 
 and pouted with a tempting impudence. 
 
 This was the very woman Sternhold 
 sought. She was vitality itself impersoni- 
 fied. He saw her, offered his hand, and was 
 instantly accepted. He wished her to keep 
 it quiet ; and notwithstanding her feminine 
 triumph she managed to do so, and not a 
 soul in Stirmingham guessed what was in 
 the wind. 
 
 Sternhold went to London, got a special 
 license, and the pair were married in Stern- 
 hold's private apartments at his hotel in the 
 presence of three people only, one of whom 
 was the astounded Dodd. They left by 
 the next train for London, where the 
 bride went to Regent Street to choose 
 her trousseau, with her husband at her 
 side. 
 
 Not a bell was rung in Stirmingham. 
 The news spread like wildlfire, and con- 
 
103 
 
 VrORLD'S END. 
 
 founded the city. People gathered at the 
 corners of the streets. 
 
 " He is certainly mad," they said. Most 
 of them were in some way disappointed. 
 
 " He may be," said a keener one than the 
 rest ; " he may be — but she is not." 
 
CHAPTER YII. 
 
 IIUCIA MAEESE, now Mrs. Sternhold 
 Baskette, was the daughter of an 
 Italian father and an English 
 mother, and had a tolerably accurate ac- 
 quaintance with Leicester Square and Soho. 
 She was not an absolutely bad woman in the 
 coarsest sense of the term — at least not at 
 that time, she had far too much ambition to 
 destroy her chance so early in life. Phy- 
 siologists may here discuss the question as 
 to whether any latent trace of the old gipsy 
 blood of the Baskettes had in any way in- 
 fluenced Sternhold in his choice. Ambitious 
 as she was, and possessed of that species of 
 beauty which always takes with the multi- 
 tude, Lucia had hitherto been a failure. 
 Just as in literature and in art, the greatest 
 
104 WORLD'S END. 
 
 genius has to wait till opportunity offers, 
 and often eats its own heart in the misery 
 of waiting, so she had striven and fought to 
 get to the front, and yet was still a stroller 
 when Sternhold saw her. She knew that if 
 only once she could have made her appear- 
 ance on the London boards, with her gor- 
 geous beauty fully displayed, and assisted 
 by dress and music, that she should certainly 
 triumph. But she could not get there. 
 
 Other girls less favoured by Nature, but 
 more by circumstance, and by the fickle and 
 unaccountable tastes of certain wealthy indi- 
 viduals, had forestalled her, and she stored 
 up in her mind bitter hatred of several of 
 these who had snubbed and sneered at her. 
 
 The fairy prince of her dream, however, 
 came at last in the person of an old man of 
 three score years and ten, and she snapped 
 him up in a trice. No doubt, like all Stir- 
 mingham, she entertained the most fabulous 
 ideas of Sternhold' s wealth. 
 
 These dreams were destined to be rudely 
 
FACTS. 105 
 
 shattered. She seems to have had pretty 
 much her own way at first. Doubtless the 
 old man was as wax in her hands, till his 
 former habits began to pull at him. She had 
 one good trait at all events, if it could be called 
 good — the first use she made of her new posi- 
 tion was to provide for her family, or rather 
 for the only member of it in England. 
 
 This was Aurelian Marese, her brother, 
 who must have been a man of some talent 
 and energy, for despite all obstacles of 
 poverty he contrived to pass his examination 
 and obtain a diploma from the College of 
 Surgeons. He came to Stirmingham, and 
 with the assistance of Sternhold's purse set 
 up as a mad doctor, in plain parlance, or 
 in softer language, established a private 
 lunatic asylum. Oddly enough, it would 
 seem that notwithstanding the immense 
 population of the city, there was not till 
 that time any establishment of the kind in 
 the place, and the result was that Aurelian 
 prospered. He certainly was a clever fellow, 
 
106 WORLD'S END. 
 
 as will be presently seen, though some fancy 
 he over-reached himself. When at last 
 Sternhold, worn out with the unwonted 
 gaieties into which Lucia plunged him, 
 showed unmistakable signs of weariness, 
 and desired to return to Stirmingham, she 
 yielded with a good grace. She reckoned 
 that he could not last long, and it was her 
 game to keep him in good temper ; for she had 
 learnt by this time that he had the power 
 to dispose of his property just as he chose. 
 
 We can easily imagine the restless- 
 ness of this creature confined in the dull 
 atmosphere of three or four rooms at Dodd's 
 Hotel, South Street. But she bore it, and 
 to her it was a species of martyrdom — the 
 very reverse of what she had pictured. 
 
 After awhile, as time went on, whispers 
 began to fly about — people elevated their 
 eyebrows and asked questions under their 
 breath, exchanged nods and winks. The 
 fact was apparent ; Sternhold could scarce 
 contain himself for joy. There was an un« 
 
FACTS. 107- 
 
 doubted prospect of The Heir. The old 
 man got madder than ever — that is, in the 
 sense of self-laudation. He could not 
 admire himself sufiBciently. The artful 
 woman played upon him, you may be sure ; 
 at all events there was a deed of gift exe- 
 cuted at this time conveying to her certain 
 valuable estates lying outside the city, and 
 tolerably unencumbered. Why she came 
 to select those particular estates which 
 were not half so valuable as others she 
 might have had, was known only to herself" 
 then ; but doubtless Aurelian had heard 
 about the Yankee claims, and advised her 
 to take what was safe. These estates were, 
 in fact, bought with old Eomy's inoney 
 made by the nail factory, and were quite 
 apart from the rest. 
 
 About this time, also, Sternhold left 
 Dodd's Hotel. This was another evidence 
 of her power over him. The best joke was, 
 that although there was old Eomy's country 
 mansion about five miles from Stirming- 
 
108 WORLD'S END. 
 
 ham, although. Sternhold had since pur- 
 chased four other mansions, and had 
 nominally street upon street of houses 
 in the town, he had not a place to take 
 his wife to. He was obliged to rent one of 
 his own houses of the company who had 
 built it on a building lease. 
 
 Mrs. Sternhold now had her great wish 
 gratified to some extent. She was the 
 observed of all observers. They tell yoa 
 tales now in Stirmingham of her extrava- 
 gance, and the lengths she went. Her 
 carriages, her horses, her servants, her 
 dinners, parties, and what not, were the 
 one topic of conversation. Even old- 
 fashioned, straitlaced people found their 
 objections overcome by curiosity, and ac- 
 cepted her invitations. 
 
 Old Sternhold was never visible at these 
 gatherings ; but he rejoiced in them. He 
 was proud of his wife. He looked upon 
 her as a prodigy. He gave her the reins. 
 But personally he practically returned to 
 
FACTS. 109 
 
 his old habits. He still retained his old 
 apartments at Dodd's ; and there he might 
 be found, at almost all hours, sitting at his 
 desk, and eagerly, joyously receiving every 
 visitor who came to tell him of some fresh 
 extravagance, some fresh frolic of his wife's ! 
 
 How was all this expenditure supported, 
 since his actual income was so small ? By 
 a series of loans, which there were always 
 men ready to offer, and whose terms Stern- 
 hold always signed. Once or twice he did 
 remonstrate, but darling Lucia went into 
 tears, and her brother Aurelian assured him 
 that, in her state of health, any vexation 
 was dangerous, &c. Aurelian, through the 
 Sternhold connexion, was now a fashionable 
 physician. 
 
 At last the event happened, and a son 
 was born. The memory of the week suc- 
 ceeding that day will not soon pass away 
 in Stirmingham. 
 
 Old Sternhold, himself a most temperate 
 man, declared that he would make every 
 
110 WORLD'S EXD. 
 
 one in tlie city tipsy; and he practically 
 succeeded. He had harrels of ale and gal- 
 lons of spirits and wine offered free to all 
 comers at every public-house and tavern. 
 He had booths erected in an open field just 
 outside the town, for dancing and other 
 amusements, and here refreshments of all 
 kinds were served out gratis. 
 
 The police were in despair. The cells 
 overflowed, and would hold no more, and 
 the streets reeled with drunken men, and 
 still more drunken women. 
 
 This saturnalia reigned for four days, 
 and would soon have culminated — at least, 
 so the police declared — in a general sack of 
 the city by the congregated ruffians. A 
 detachment of dragoons was actually sent 
 for, and encamped in St. Greorge's Square, 
 with their horses and arms ready at a 
 moment's notice. But it all passed off 
 quietly; and from that hour Sternhold, 
 and more particularly the infant son, be- 
 came the idol of the populace. 
 
FACTS. Ill 
 
 They still look back with regret to those 
 four days of unlimited licence, and swear hy 
 the son of Sternhold. 
 
 This boy was named John Marese Bas- 
 kette, but was always called Marese. Singu- 
 larly enough, the birth of this child, which 
 one would have prophesied would have 
 completed the hold Lucia had over the 
 father, was the beginning of the difficulties 
 between them. It began in his very 
 nursery. Proud of her handsome figure, and 
 still looking forward to popular triumphs, 
 Lucia flatly refused to nurse the infant her- 
 self 
 
 This caused a terrible quarrel. Old 
 Sternhold had old-fashioned ideas. But 
 there is no need to linger on this. Lucia, 
 of course, had her own way, and Sternhold 
 retired to sulk at Dodd's Hotel. From 
 that time the chink widened, and the 
 mutual distrust strengthened. 
 
 There never was any real doubt that the 
 boy was legitimate ; but some devil whis- 
 
112 WORLD'S END. 
 
 pered the question in Sternhold's mind, and 
 he brooded over it. I say some devil, but, 
 in actual fact, it was one of those parasites 
 who have been once or twice alluded to. 
 Is there anything that class will stop at 
 in the hope of a few formal lines in a rich 
 man's will? 
 
 It was their game to destroy Lucia. The 
 plan was cunningly formed. As if by 
 accident, passages in Lucia's previous life, 
 when she was a stroller, were alluded to in 
 Sternhold's presence. 
 
 He grew excited, and eager to hear more ; 
 to probe her supposed dishonour. The para- 
 sites distinctly refused ; it was too serious a 
 matter. Still, if he wished to hear — it was 
 common talk — all he had to do was to go 
 into the billiard-rooms. Some of the fellows 
 there did not know him by sight, and they 
 were sure to talk about it. 
 
 Sternhold went. Of all the sights in 
 the world, to see that old man making a 
 miserable attempt to play billiards while 
 
FACTS. 113 
 
 his ears were acutely listening to the in- 
 famous tales purposely started to inflame 
 him, nothing could be more deplorable. 
 The upshot was he grew downright mad, 
 but not so mad that anything could be 
 done with him. He watched over Lucia 
 like a hawk. She could not move ; her 
 life became really burdensome. 
 
 It must be remembered that at that time 
 she really was, though wild enough in 
 blood, perfectly stainless in fact. The tem- 
 per in the woman was long restrained. In 
 the first place, she wanted his money ; in 
 the next place, there was her son, whom 
 she loved with all the vigour of her nature. 
 She bore it for a year or two, then the devil 
 in her began to stir. 
 
 Old Sternhold, who had watched and 
 inquired hour by hour all this time, had 
 found nothing wrong; but this very fact 
 was turned against her by those devils, his 
 lickspittles. They represented that this 
 was part of her -cunning — that she had 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
lU Yv'OELD'S EXD. 
 
 determined he should have no hold upon 
 her, in order that her son might inherit. 
 They reminded Sternhold that, although he 
 could not divorce her, he could alter his will. 
 Here they rather overshot the mark, be- 
 cause he began to reflect that if he cut off his 
 son the old question would arise — To whom 
 should he leave his city, as he called it ? 
 
 The miserable dilemma haunted and 
 worried his abeady weakened brain and 
 body till he grew a shadow, and Lucia had 
 hopes that he would die. But he did not ; 
 in a month or two the natural strength of 
 his constitution brought him round. 
 
 All this time Lucia was in dread about 
 his will. Aurelian astute and cunning as 
 he was hardly knew what to advise or 
 how to act. He had his spies — for he was 
 wealthv now to a certain des^ree, and could 
 afford it. He had his strong suspicions 
 that some of the companies who had leased 
 the property for building had a hand in 
 the persecution Oi^ Lucia, and in the in- 
 
FACTS. 115 
 
 flammation of Sternhold's jealousy. It was 
 certainly their interest to get the boy dis- 
 inherited. Aurelian began to grow seriously 
 alarmed. Sternhold was stronger and 
 better — perhaps if he had had Aurelian 
 for physician he would not have recovered 
 so fast; but with his distrust of Lucia 
 came an equal distrust of her brother, and 
 lie would not acknowledge him. 
 
 Aurelian looked at it like this : Stern- 
 hold was now about seventy-five, and had 
 no organic disease. His father, Eomy, had 
 lived to a ripe old age ; his grandfather, 
 the basket-maker, though shot in the prime 
 of life, came of a hardy, half-gipsy stock. 
 The chances were that Sternhold, with all 
 the comforts that money could buy, would 
 live another ten years. This very worry, this 
 jealousy, by keeping his mental faculties 
 alive, might contribute to longevity. In 
 ten years, in a year, in a month, what 
 might not happen ? 
 
 His greatest fear v/as in Lucia herself,. 
 
 8—2 
 
116 WOELD'S END. 
 
 who had shown signs of late that she must 
 burst forth. If she did, and without his 
 being near her, there was no knowing what 
 indiscretion she might not commit. It 
 was even suspicious that Sternhold had re- 
 covered. It looked as if he had made up 
 his mind, and had signed a will averse to 
 Lucia's interest and his son's — had settled 
 it and dismissed it. This was a terrible 
 thought, this last. When he suggested the 
 possibility of it to Lucia, you should have 
 seen her. She raved ; her features swelled 
 up and grew inflamed ; her frame dilated ; 
 her blood seemed as if it would burst the 
 veins : till at last she hissed out, " I'll kill 
 him !" and fell fainting. 
 
 AureKan determined one point at once. 
 There must be no more delay ; action was 
 the order. But what? Suppose the worst. 
 Suppose the will already made, and against 
 Lucia's interests, what was the course to be 
 taken? Why, to accumulate evidence to 
 invalidate it. Prove Jiim mad I 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 [HE idea having been once enter- 
 tained, grew and grew, till it 
 overshadowed everything else. The 
 singular circumstance then happened of one 
 man slowly and carefully collecting evidence 
 during another's lifetime to prove him 
 insane the moment he died. 
 
 Aurelian placed his principal reliance 
 upon the violent jealousy Sternhold had ex- 
 hibited. So vehement and irreoulated a 
 passion founded upon mere phantasms of 
 the imagination, was in itself strong pre- 
 sumptive proof of an unsound mind. He 
 had no difficulty in finding witnesses to 
 Sternhold's outrageous conduct. The old 
 man had been seen walking up and down 
 the street, on the opposite side of the pave- 
 
118 WORLD'S END. 
 
 ment to the house in which Lucia lived, for 
 hours and hours at a time, simply watching. 
 He had been heard to use violent and 
 threatening language. He had made him- 
 self ill. The mind was so overwrought by 
 excitement that it reacted upon the body, 
 and it was some time before the balance 
 was restored — if indeed it could ever be 
 restored. 
 
 There were many trifling little things of 
 manner — of fidgetiness — absurd personal 
 habits — which, taken in conjunction v/ith 
 the bad temper he had displayed, went to 
 make up the case. Aurelian added to this 
 the vanity Sternhold had of late openly in- 
 dulged in. This was notorious, and had 
 become a byword. 
 
 But when Aurelian had written all this 
 out upon paper — when he had, as it were, 
 prepared his brief — his shrewd sense told 
 him that in truth it was very weak evidence. 
 Any lawyer employed for the defence could 
 easily find arguments to upset the whole. 
 
FACTS. 119 
 
 Day by day, as he thouglit it over, his 
 reliance upon the insanity resource grew 
 less and less — and yet he could not see what 
 else there was to do. He racked his brain. 
 The man, like others, was in fact fascinated 
 by the enormous property at stake : he 
 could not get it out of his mind. It 
 haunted him day and night. He ransacked 
 his memor}^, called up all his reading, all 
 his observation, all that he had heard — 
 every expedient and plan that had come 
 under his notice for gaining an end. 
 
 For a time, however, it was in vain. It 
 is often the case that when we seek an idea 
 it flies from us, and will not be constrained, 
 not even by weeks of the deeply-pondering 
 state. Often the more we think upon a 
 subject, the less we seem to see our way 
 clear. And so it was with him. 
 
 Sometimes a little change of scene, even 
 a little manual exercise, will stimulate the 
 imagination. So it was with him. 
 
 He had an important and serious case to 
 
120 WOELD'S END. 
 
 attend — a rich patient underwent an opera- 
 tion at his hands, and the physician grew 
 so absorbed with his delicate manipulation 
 and in genuine delight in his own skill, that 
 Lucia and the property passed for a day or 
 two completely out of his memory. This 
 was followed by profound slumber, and next 
 morning he awoke with the answer to the 
 great question staring him in the face. 
 
 If Sternhold was not mad enough now, 
 w^hy not drive him mad ? If he was driven 
 frantic and shut up in an asylum, Lucia's 
 son would to a certainty inherit the pro- 
 perty. Possibly he (Aurelian) might be 
 appointed trustee — he, as uncle, would be a 
 guardian, and probably the only one. He 
 might also have the pleasure of receiving 
 Sternhold into his own retreat for lunatics ; 
 and so, while furthering the interests of his 
 sister and nephew, do himself a good tarn. 
 The idea enraptured him. 
 
 Aurelian possessed the true scientific mind 
 which is incapable of feeling. Some thinkers 
 
FACTS. 121 
 
 believe thafc the true artistic mind, tlie 
 highest artistic mind, is also incapable of 
 feeling. It is so absorbed in its own reali- 
 sation of one idea, that it loses all conscious- 
 ness of possible suffering in others. He 
 never doubted for an instant that it was in 
 his power to attain the proposed object — it 
 was only to let Lucia loose. Let her loose — 
 a little way. Let her loose under strict 
 supervision — under the constant surveillance 
 of himself, his son, a youth of twenty whom 
 he was training up in the right road, and 
 perhaps of other witnesses. 
 
 There w^as such a thing: as divorce — this 
 might not destroy the child's right, but it 
 would place him out of Lucia's hands. 
 There must be no handle for Lucia's enemies 
 to grasp at. She must be manoeuvred so as 
 to make Sternhold frantic without com- 
 mitting herself. 
 
 Lucia was aflame for such a course. She 
 had restrained herself for years. She was 
 burning to be free, on fire for ''life" and 
 
122 WORLD'S END. 
 
 excitement; above all, for admiration, for 
 praise — the intoxicating breath of the mul- 
 titude that cheers to the echo ! The Stage ! 
 the dance — music — the fiery gaze of a 
 thousand eyes following each motion ! 
 There must have been something of the 
 true artist in her. The grandest position, 
 the most unlimited wealth, would not have 
 satisfied her v/ithout the stage. 
 
 She had married Sternhold in the hope 
 of appearing as other women did in 
 the theatres owned by their lovers. She 
 had 'tried to broach the subject to Stern- 
 hold ; he had held up his hands in horror, 
 and she constrained herself and bided her 
 time. 
 
 Nearly four years now — four years ! The 
 coarse jests, the loud laughter, the shouts 
 and screams and cat-calls of the low three- 
 penny gaff or music hall from which she 
 had been snatched — even such a life as 
 that seemed to her far, far superior to 
 this irksome confinement, this slavery 
 
FACTS. 123 
 
 which was not even gilded. Aurelian was 
 right in his conjecture that she could 
 not be much longer held in — she must 
 burst out. 
 
 Half-formed schemes had been working 
 themselves into shape in her mind for 
 months past. She would leave her boy with 
 Aurelian, take her jewels and sables, sell 
 them, borrow money upon the estate which 
 Sternhold had made hers by deed of gift, 
 go to London or Paris, and plunge headlong 
 into " life," paying any price for the one 
 grand ambition of her existence. 
 
 The craving — the fury, it might almost 
 be called — the furious desire for admiration 
 from men which seized upon her at times, 
 would certainly, sooner or later, have 
 hurled her on to a desperate step. 
 
 At this moment Aurelian came with his 
 carefully-considered plan. She met him 
 open-armed. "With one blow she could 
 avenge herself upon Sternhold, with one 
 blow gratify herself and destroy him — 
 
124 WORLD'S END. 
 
 destroy liim body and soul. This moment 
 — this hour ! 
 
 But not so fast. First, Aurelian obtained 
 the money — no small sum. Next, said he, 
 this thing must not be done by halves. 
 It was useless for her to appear on some 
 small stage ; she must at one bound become 
 the talk of all the town. This required 
 care, thought, and organisation. Those 
 great successes that seemed so suddenly 
 attained without an effort, as by a wave of 
 the hand, had really been preceded by months 
 and months of preparation, and depended 
 in great part upon the matured judgment 
 and clever advice of men who had watched 
 the public for years. 
 
 Impatient as she was, Lucia again 
 controlled herself, and did as she was bid. 
 Aurelian made it his business first to dis- 
 cover where she could appear with most 
 effect. He soon selected the place, Paris ; 
 he obtained an interview with the proper 
 authorities, and confided to them a part of 
 
FACTS. 125 
 
 his secret. They saw their way to profit, 
 and agreed. 
 
 The next thing was the character she 
 should take, and the second, the season. 
 This last the manager, or rather owner, 
 who was in rajDtures with the thing, easily 
 decided.. It must be at the height of the 
 Paris season. He was a popular man, 
 who could gather together a mighty crowd 
 of his own acquaintances. 
 
 If poor Sternhold, sitting in his apartment 
 at Dodd's Hotel, could have heard these 
 " fast" young men discussing the approach- 
 ing appearance of his wife, Aurelian would 
 have gone no further. 
 
 The choice of character Aurelian insisted 
 upon deciding, and he chose Lady Godiva. 
 As has been stated, Lucia had extraordinary 
 hair, both for length and abundance, and, 
 unlike long hair generally, it was curly. 
 Had it been fine and delicate hair she could 
 have boasted that few women in Europe 
 could equal her. The coarseness of its 
 
126 WOELD'S END. 
 
 texture would not be visible upon the 
 stage. 
 
 Sbe had really a magnificent figure. The 
 character of Lady Godiva was one exactly 
 fitted for her. It is needless to say that 
 tiiere was little or no acting — no study of' 
 parts, no insight into the meaning required, 
 as in the case of Shakspeare's heroines. 
 The piece was simply a spectacle devised to- 
 bring out one central figure into the boldest 
 relief. 
 
 The greatest dilBBculty the conspirators — 
 for so they may be fairly called — had to 
 contend with was the necessity of keeping 
 Sternhold completely in the dark, and 
 yet at the same time getting together a 
 large audience, which could only be done 
 by advertising. But Aurelian was capable 
 of dealing with more difficult dilemmas 
 than this. His plan was very simple and 
 yet effective. The manager had a piece in 
 his repertoire which, owing to the fame or 
 infamy of a certain fascinating lady, was the 
 
FACTS. 1-27 
 
 rage of the town. Suddenly this creature 
 disappeared — went off to Vienna with a 
 titled gentleman — and after blazing as a 
 meteor of the first water there for a short 
 time, as suddenly dropped out of sight 
 altogether. 
 
 The manager, at Aurelian's suggestion, 
 gave out that this lady had turned up, and 
 was going to again act at his house on a 
 certain night. 
 
 The excitement was intense. It was an 
 awful falsehood, for the poor girl was in 
 reality dead. (She met with her death 
 "under some strange and suspicious circum- 
 stances, which w^ere, by influence, sup- 
 pressed.) Her beauty, great as it was, had 
 lost its charm in the tomb ; yet her name, 
 in flaring letters, was prominent all over 
 Paris. 
 
 The deception was kept up to the very 
 end ; and the company of the theatre, by 
 dint of double pay, were got to carry it out 
 to perfection. An exceptional number of 
 
128 WOELD'S END. 
 
 waiters were, however, hired, and no one 
 but the manager and Aurelian had any idea 
 what the object of this troop of apparently 
 idle fellows could be. 
 
 The house filled to the last seat. The 
 poor dead girl's name was on every lip — her 
 frailties were discussed with horrid flip- 
 pancy; the orchestra began, and Lucia 
 Marese Baskette robed, or rather unrobed, 
 as Lady Godiva. 
 
 The owner of the theatre was there, and 
 with him a whole host of men about town, 
 most of whom were partly in the secret, 
 but not quite. 
 
 Just before the time arrived for the curtain 
 to rise, this troop of idle waiters entered 
 the arena, swarmed into the boxes, into the 
 galleries and pit, distributing to every single 
 individual who had entered a handbill, an- 
 nouncing that, instead of Miss , " Mrs. 
 
 Sternhold Baskette, the beautiful wife of 
 Sternhold Baskette, Esq., the richest man in 
 the world, the owner of twenty millions 
 
FACTS. 129 
 
 sterling worth of property, would appear as 
 Lady Godiva ; a part for whicli her splen- 
 did physique and magnificent hair peculiarly 
 fitted her." At the same moment a large 
 poster was put out in front of the curtain, 
 bearing the same announcement. 
 
 The effect was singular. The house, 
 which had been full of noise before, became 
 as still as death. People were astounded. 
 They could not believe it possible ; yet, at 
 the same time, they knew that the manager 
 dared not play a trick. Theatres had been 
 wrecked before now by indignant audiences. 
 They waited in silence. 
 
 The curtain rose. I cannot pause to de- 
 scribe the gradual enthusiasm which arose, 
 nor to draw a picture of the grand tableau. 
 But there are many living who remember 
 that memorable night, who declare that 
 anything equal to it has never been seen 
 upon the stage. 
 
 Lucia rode on a milk-white palfrey, and 
 looked extraordinarily handsome. The house 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
130 WOELD'S END. 
 
 rose — the audience went mad. Eecalled 
 and recalled, again and again that white 
 palfrey paced to and fro, and the mighty 
 multitude would not allow the scene to pass. 
 
 The mesmeric influence of the excitement 
 filled Lucia with a glowing beauty ; with a 
 brilliance which made her seem a goddess — 
 of lier order. No one remarked whether the 
 piece was properly gone through after this. 
 I think it Vv'as not. From all that I 
 can learn, I believe the audience watched 
 Godiva to and fro till the palfrey or its rider 
 grew exhausted, and then left en masse. 
 
 Paris was aflame next day. The papers 
 said nothing — they were wise. There is, 
 however, something more powerful even 
 than the newspaper — it is conversation. 
 Lucia, had got conversation — her name was 
 heard everywhere. It was not only the 
 acting, or show — it could not be called 
 acting — it was the fact of her position as 
 Sternhold's wife. She stood upon the pin- 
 nacle of his fame for wealth, brazen and 
 
FACTS. 131 
 
 shameless in tlie eyes of the world. Brazen 
 and shameless, yet secure ; for Aurelian 
 never left her. He watched her himself. 
 His son — his paid servants — did the same ; 
 not from fear of her indiscretion, but in 
 order to appear as vritnesses if any proceed- 
 ings should take place. 
 
 Xext nis^ht and next nis^ht, and aci^ain 
 on the third night, this extraordinary spec- 
 tacle was repeated. The crowds that came 
 to the doors could not be admitted. But 
 by this time the leading papers had felt 
 the pulse of the people — not the excit- 
 able populace, but the siesidj people. With 
 one consent they rushed at the exhibition 
 with lance in rest. Improper was the softest 
 insinuation. They were undoubtedly right. 
 The moment they took this tone all the 
 press followed, and before the week was 
 over those who had the power had pro- 
 hibited the performance. 
 
 9—2 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 HE exhibition was stopped, but tbe 
 end bad been attained — Lucia 
 was famous. Tbe manager and 
 Aurelian bad foreseen tbe inevitable official 
 veto, and bad prepared for it. They bad 
 arranged for ber to appear as Cleopatra ; it 
 was a part wbicb could be made to suit ber 
 admirably by leaving Sbakspeare's text out of 
 tbe question, and studying spectacle instead. 
 It is a singular fact tbat Sternbold had 
 no idea of what was going on until tbe 
 fourth or fifth day. He was told that 
 Lucia had left Stirmingham with her 
 brother for a short visit to Paris, and 
 paid little or no attention to it. For the 
 first day or two the papers had been silent. 
 At last the news reached him. 
 
FACTS. 133 
 
 What Dodd had previously feared now 
 happened — he was struck down with a 
 slight attack of paralysis, which affected 
 one side. Some persons said it was a 
 merciful infliction, as it prevented him 
 from witnessing his wife's disgrace with 
 his own eyes. They were wrong. His 
 body was bent, but his mind was torn 
 with contending and frenzied passions. 
 The sense of outrage — of outrage upon 
 bis dignity — was perhaps the strongest. 
 That after all his labour and self-denial^ 
 after long, long years of slowly building 
 up a property such as his, which rendered 
 him in his own estimation not one whit 
 inferior to a king; that he should be in- 
 sulted, his name dragged in the dirt, his 
 wife a spectacle for all Paris ! 
 
 Sternhold had the vaguest ideas of stage 
 proprieties and theatrical morality. He had 
 not a doubt but that Lucia was already an 
 abandoned woman. There were plenty who 
 urged upon him to commence a suit for 
 
134 WOELD'S END. 
 
 divorce, tbougli in reality it was extremely 
 doubtful whether there were sufficient 
 grounds for anything beyond a judicial 
 separation. 
 
 But Sternhold was filled with one con- 
 suming: desire — to see her with his own 
 eyes. Whether it was this passion, or 
 whether it was the natural strength of his 
 constitution, certain it is that in a mar- 
 velloush" short time after the attack, he had 
 himself conveyed to Paris, and sat, a 
 miserable, haggard, broken-down old man, 
 in a box at the theatre the same night, 
 watching his wife upon the stage. He 
 did this night after night. A species of 
 fascination seemed to carry him there to sit 
 silent, brooding over the utter wreck of his 
 great schemes. 
 
 After a while he went suddenly back to 
 Stirmingham without a word, without so 
 much as seeking an interview with Lucia, 
 or issuing any instructions as to what was 
 to be done. He went back to his old 
 
FACTS. 135 
 
 apartments at Dorld's Hotel. He shut him- 
 self up, refusing to see even the wretched 
 parasites who had sown the seed of this 
 mischief. It was an instinctive attempt to 
 return to the old, old habit, the ancient 
 self-concentration, apart from the vv^orld. 
 But it failed. So soon as ever he besran to 
 read his letters, to look into his accounts, 
 every figure, every transaction reminded 
 him of Lucia and her extravagance ; the 
 follies she had been guilty of, and the no 
 less greater folly he had himself yielded to 
 in granting her every wish, thereby in- 
 volving his affairs in the most hopeless 
 confusion. The attempt failed. He rushed 
 again from his retreat to seek her. Then 
 he heard that she was in Vienna performing. 
 He got there, supported by his attendants. 
 Doubtless the physical fatigue of the jour- 
 ney irritated his nerves ; at all events, there 
 seems no doubt that when he reached Vienna 
 he was for the time absolutely mad. 
 
 He went to the theatre. He saw Lucia 
 
136 WORLD'S END. 
 
 as Godiva, just as slie liad been seen 
 in Paris. He was alone in his box. 
 Deliberately lie levelled a pistol, resting 
 the barrel upon the edge of the balustrade. 
 As the incense of praise and adulation rose 
 up, as the pageant moved to and fro, the 
 deadly weapon was aimed at the central 
 figure. He fired, and the house was in 
 commotion. 
 
 Those who know what happens when a 
 full theatre is alarmed and excited will 
 require no description ; those who have not 
 seen it cannot imagine it. 
 
 A second report, and the curling smoke 
 caused a rush to the box, and the occupant 
 was found upon the floor, as was thought, 
 dead. Lucia alone was calm and cool. 
 The bullet had not passed even near her; 
 the distance was great and the aim un- 
 steady; the ball had struck a screen, and 
 did no injury. She dismounted and ad- 
 vanced to the footlights, extended her 
 hands, and in a few words begged the 
 
FACTS. 137 
 
 audience to be calm. Speedily they saw 
 her thus, as it were, in their very arms. 
 
 The theatre rang with acclamation. If 
 it had been a scene prepared it could not 
 have succeeded better. 
 
 There were threats and loud cries of rage 
 against the man who had fired at her. 
 
 " Do not injure him/' she said, at the 
 top of her fall, deep voice ; " he is mad I" 
 For she guessed in a moment who it 
 was. 
 
 In a few minutes the whole things was 
 understood. Continental people are quick at 
 comprehending — an old husband, a young 
 wife — bah ! An attempt first at murder, 
 then at suicide — bah ! What could he 
 have done better calculated to put Lucia 
 upon the pedestal of fame ? 
 
 Sternhold was not dead ; not even injured. 
 The ball he had fired at himself had not 
 touched him. He had fallen exhausted. 
 When he became physically conscious, he 
 was raving mad. 
 
ISS WOKLD'S EXD. 
 
 There was no doubt about it this time. 
 It was a pitiable sight. 
 
 Aurelian insisted upon seeing him : even 
 he shuddered. The old man was muttering 
 gibberish to himself. Half his grey hair 
 was gone, for before he could be stayed he 
 had dragged it out. His arms and limbs 
 were pinioned, but his body shook with a 
 trembling convulsive movement. The deed 
 was done. 
 
 Aurelian braced himself up, and hastened 
 at once to Lucia. He knew he should 
 have a struggle with her, and hoped that in 
 the conflict he should forget the sight he 
 had left. He had determined to at once 
 withdraw her from the stage. The victory 
 was won ; there must be no more risk. 
 
 The conflict between the brother and 
 sister was terrible. She raged, her frame 
 swelled ; she had tasted triumph, and the 
 draught is more intoxicating even than the 
 taste of blood. She would go on. 
 
 But he was resolute, and he won. That 
 
FACTS. 130 
 
 very day lie took her to England — took is 
 the right word, for it was necessary to use 
 physical force at times. He got her to her 
 house at Stirmingham, and never left her 
 till she had grown more composed. 
 
 Sternhold was in an asvlum. Aurelian 
 thought that he would surely die ; but he 
 did not. 
 
 Aurelian then be^^^an to scheme to ^ei 
 him in his own "retreat." Possession was 
 nine points of the law. He went to Vienna 
 at once before any one guessed his object, 
 obtained the proper permit, and in six 
 days deposited the wretched being in his 
 asylum in the suburbs of Stirmingham. 
 Once there, thought Aurelian, let them get 
 him out if they can. 
 
 The fact was soon known ; and there was 
 an excitement. The parasites, disappointed 
 and raq:ingr did their best to inflame the 
 populace. There was a growl, and the 
 police began to prepare for an attack upon 
 the asylum ; but, after all, the moment any 
 
140 WOELD'S END. 
 
 of them reflected, they said, " Why, it's 
 all right ; the poor fellow is mad. He 
 could not be in better hands." The plan of 
 a popular tumult fell through. 
 
 The parasites next tried the law, but 
 found that Aurelian had been before them : 
 he had all the proper documents ; he could 
 not be touched. 
 
 Next the companies began to stir. They 
 were uncertain what to do, and whether it 
 was better for their interests that Sternhold 
 should be in his brother-in-law's custody 
 or not. 
 
 That astute gentleman very soon learnt 
 what was passing in their minds, and he 
 had a very good conception of what could 
 be effected by powerful combination. 
 
 He opened negotiations with them. He 
 pointed out to them privately that the real 
 point at issue was not Sternhold, but the 
 boy — the heir — for no one doubted the 
 legitimacy. Who was to have the custody 
 of the heir? 
 
FACTS. 141 
 
 Clever Aurelian hoped that by making 
 friends with the companies who held the 
 building leases that there would be no 
 opposition to his holding the boy — to his 
 guardianship of the estate. He had strong 
 grounds to go upon. To all intents and 
 purposes he was the nearest relation. If 
 the boy died, and no son of the phantom 
 brother of Eomy turned up, perhaps he 
 might have a claim to the estate. 
 
 He gave the companies to understand 
 that if he had the guardianship of the boy 
 their interests should be most carefully 
 studied. 
 
 They appeared favourable. The step was 
 taken. The boy remained with his mother ; 
 his mother remained in her house, seeing 
 Aurelian daily, and indeed watched by his 
 emjjloyes. 
 
 No change took place. Aurelian con- 
 gratulated himself that all was going on 
 favourably. The boy, who had little or no 
 idea of the meaning of the word '' father," 
 
112 Tv^ORLD'S END. 
 
 was constantly at Aurelian's residence — the 
 asylum where his parent was confined — 
 playing with Aurelian's son, who was care- 
 fully instructed to please him, and indeed 
 was sharp enough already to require little 
 instruction. 
 
 Sternhold lingered in his melancholy 
 state. He was no longer violent — simply 
 dejected. He did not seem able to answer 
 the simplest question. If asked if he was 
 hungry, he would stare, and say something 
 relating to his school- days. 
 
 And this w^as the man who had built 
 Stirmingham. For five years he remained 
 in this state, and then suddenly brightened 
 up ; and it was thought and feared that he 
 would recover the use of his faculties. It 
 lasted but three days. In that short time 
 he wrote three important documents. 
 
 The first was a statement to the effect 
 that he had wronged Lucia. He now saw 
 his folly — he had been led into his persecu- 
 tion of her by designing people, and blamed 
 
FACTS. 143 
 
 liimself for Ms subsequent conduct. He 
 earnestly entreated her forgiveness. The 
 second was a species of family history, short 
 but complete, refuting the claims of the 
 American Baskettes. They were indeed of 
 the same name, he wrote, but not of the 
 same blood. The truth was that the cotters 
 who had lived in the Swamp, nov/ covered 
 with mansions, had no name. They were 
 half gipsies ; they had no registered or bap- 
 tismal name. 
 
 Will Baskette, who had been shot, was 
 the chief man among them, and gradually 
 they came by the country people to be called 
 by his name. They were not blood rela- 
 tions in any sense of the term. This paper 
 also gave the writer's views of his transac- 
 tions with the Sibbolds and the cotters or 
 " Baskettes," and concluded with the firmly 
 expressed conviction — the honest statement 
 of a man near his end — that his title was 
 irrefutable, and he knew of no genuine 
 claim. 
 
144 WOELD'S EISD. 
 
 The third document was his Will. For 
 now it appeared that hitherto he had never 
 made a will at all. It was extremely short, 
 but terse and unmistakable. It left the 
 whole of his property, real and personal 
 (with the single exception of the gift to 
 Lucia), to his son, John Marese Baskette. 
 
 The will Aurelian took care was properly 
 attested, and by independent witnesses 
 whom he sent for. 
 
 On the fourth day old Sternhold died, 
 quietly and without a word. He was 
 buried, and hardly was he in the tomb 
 before the battle began. The companies at 
 once cut off all connection with ^urelian. 
 They had reckoned npon his managing to 
 get their terms at all events extended, as he 
 had promised. The Corporation refused 
 any honours to the dead king, and all 
 eagerly sought about for the means of divid- 
 ing the spoil. 
 
 After all their consultations, not all the 
 subtlety of twenty solicitors could suggest 
 
FACTS. 145 
 
 any feasible plan — the old man had baffled 
 them at last. It was useless to plead that 
 he was insane, and actually in an asylum at 
 the moment of executing the will. What 
 was the good even if such a plea was suc- 
 cessful — if the will was upset, the property 
 would descend to the boy just the same. 
 There seemed no way of getting at it. 
 
 But at last a weak point was found. It 
 was a time when a great deal of commotion 
 was made about the Eoman Catholic ques- 
 tion and the religious education of minors. 
 Now Lucia was certainly half a foreigner, 
 and it was believed she was a Catholic. 
 Aurelian Tas certainly a Catholic. With 
 all his cunning he had not foreseen this, 
 and he had allowed himself to become a 
 somewhat prominent member of the Catholic 
 community in Stirmingham. He had no 
 religion, but it paid him. Catholics are 
 rich people, and when rich people go insane 
 they are profitable. So he was caught in 
 his own trap, 
 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
146 AYOKLD'S END. 
 
 There was an agitation got up amons: the 
 nltra-Protestant community. Funds were 
 started to release the heir from the clasp of 
 Eome. The companies, the Corporation, all 
 joined in the outcr3^ The question was 
 made a national one by the newspapers. 
 But there was one difficulty : the law re- 
 quired that there should be a person to sue. 
 After much trouble this person was selected 
 in one of the Baskettes of American origin, 
 who had settled in Stirmingham, and claimed 
 to be a nearer relation than Aurelian. 
 
 The battle was long and furious, and cost 
 heavy sums. ISTo expense was spared on 
 either side, and the estate got still further 
 encumbered. It promised to be a drawn 
 battle ; but at last, having passed all the 
 tribunals, it began to approach the place 
 of power, and to be discussed in the Minis- 
 terial Cabinet. There was a man there who 
 desired to obtain the Catholic vote of Ire- 
 land, and the Aurelian party began to boast 
 already of success. But this very boasting 
 
FACTS. 147 
 
 spoilt their game. The Ministry lost the 
 confidence of the people, the House followed 
 suit, Li new Ministry came into place, and 
 the final decision was against the Catholic, 
 or, as they termed themselves, legitimate 
 party — for they said the uncle and the 
 mother were the leo:itimate guardians. 
 
 The result was in truth disappointing to 
 all the parties. The hoy w^as made a ward 
 of Chancer}', proper receivers of the estate 
 w^ere appointed, and the companies who had 
 begun to exult were entrapped. The lad 
 was taken from his mother and uncle, and 
 sent to Eton to prepare for college. 
 
 Thus a new element of complexity was 
 added to the already chaotic state of this vast 
 estate. 
 
 10- 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Js^F ever there was a life that illus- 
 § ^ trated the oft-quoted phrase " poor 
 humanity," it was that of Stern - 
 hold Baskette. But this is not the place 
 to moralise — we must hasten on. The 
 orchestra has nearly finished the overture ; 
 the play will soon begin. 
 
 Lucia had now no longer any reason for 
 restraint. Her boy was safe — safe as the 
 laws of a great country could make him — 
 certain to inherit a property which by the 
 time he was forty would be of value sur- 
 passing calculation. She rejoiced in it, 
 gloried in it. To her it was more wel- 
 come than the confirmed guardianship of 
 Aurelian would have been, because it left 
 her free. 
 
FACTS. 149 
 
 The lad was at Eton, and happy — far 
 happier than he could have been elsewhere. 
 His mother immediately commenced a 
 course which led her by a rapid descent to 
 the lowest degradation. 
 
 She returned to Paris. Aurelian felt it 
 was useless now to interfere, neither could 
 he afford more expense. 
 
 She easily got upon the stage again, and 
 became more popular than ever. At the 
 age of forty she was even more hand- 
 some than in her vouth. Her features had 
 l)een refined by the passage of time and 
 by the restraint to which she had been 
 subjected. Her form was more fully 
 developed. 
 
 It is unpleasant to linger on this woman's 
 disorrace. She formed a liaison with a rich 
 foreign gentleman, retired with him from 
 Paris after a time, and the Stirmi/igham 
 Daily Post, which pursued the Baskettes 
 with unmitigated hatred year after year, did 
 not fail to chronicle the birth of a son. 
 
150 WOELD'S END. 
 
 Aurelian, baffled, was not beaten. He 
 was a resolute and j^atient man. Like the 
 famous Carthaginian father, he brought up 
 his son and educated him to consider the 
 Baskette estates as the one object of his 
 attention — only in this case it was not for 
 destruction, but for preservation. 
 
 When young John Marese Baskette, the 
 heir, after distinguishing himself at Eton, 
 was sent higher up the Thames to Oxford, 
 Aurelian immediately placed his son, 
 Theodore Marese, at the same college. 
 
 The result was exactly as he had fore- 
 seen. The heir formed a bond of friend- 
 ship — such as it is in these days — with 
 Theodore. Their one topic of conversation 
 was the estate. 
 
 John was full of the most romantic notions. 
 He was in youth a really exemplary lad — 
 clever, hard-working, winning to himself 
 the good will of all men. Theodore had a 
 genuine liking for his cousin — then, at all 
 events, though probably in after life the 
 
FACTS. 151 
 
 attachment lie professed was chiefly caused 
 by self interest. 
 
 John was full of ambitious dreams. His 
 vivid imagination had been worked upon by 
 the talk among his companions about the 
 famous owner of twenty millions sterling 
 — his father. Upon an old bookstall he 
 obtained a copy of " The Life of Sternhold 
 Baskette," now out of print. It inflamed 
 him to the uttermost. There was good 
 metal in the boy if he had only had 
 friends and parents to put it to proper use. 
 He formed the most extraordinary schemes 
 as to what he would do with this v/ealth 
 wdien he became of age, and stepped at one 
 bound into the full enjoyment cf it, as he 
 supposed he should. 
 
 It was all to be used for the alleviation 
 of the misery of the world, for the relief of 
 the poor, for the succouring of the afflicted, 
 the advancement of all means that could 
 mitigate the penalties attaching to human 
 existence. 
 
152 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 As time wore on, however, these bene- 
 volent intentions received their first 
 check. 
 
 He reached his twenty-first birthday. 
 He claimed his birthright, and was refused. 
 Briefly^ the reason was because the com- 
 panies and the American claimants had 
 entered pleas, and because also the property 
 was terribly encumbered, and would require 
 long years of nursing yet before it could be 
 cleared, and this nursing the higher Courts 
 insisted upon. 
 
 Instead of the magnificent income he 
 expected, the young man received two 
 thousand pounds per annum only. It 
 struck his nature a heavy blow, and did 
 much to pervert it, for he looked upon it in 
 the sense of a shameful injustice. With 
 Theodore he left college ; at all events he was 
 now his own master, and entered " life.'' 
 
 Every one knows what "life'' is to a 
 young man of twenty-one with two thou- 
 sand a year certain — the power of bor- 
 
FACTS. 158 
 
 rowing to a wide margin, and no 
 monitor to check and retard the inevitable 
 course. 
 
 Theodore was much older — fully thirty at 
 this time ; but he was as eager for enjoy- 
 ment, and perhaps more so. 
 
 To make the story short, they ran through 
 every species of extravagance — visited Paris, 
 Vienna, and all the continental centres of 
 dissipation. 
 
 Ten whole years passed away. John 
 Marese Baskette was by this time a thorough 
 man of the world, deeply in debt, brilliant 
 and fascinating in manner, false and selfish 
 to the backbone. He inherited his mother's 
 beauty. A tall, broad, well-made man, 
 dark curling hair, large dark eyes, and large 
 eyelashes, bronzed complexion, which, when 
 he was excited, glowed with almost womanly 
 brilliance ; strong as a lion, gentle in man- 
 ner, and fierce as a tiger under the velvet 
 glove. Polished and plausible, there were 
 those who deemed him shallow and whollv 
 
154 WORLD'S END. 
 
 concerned with the pleasure of the hour; 
 but they were mistaken. 
 
 John Marese Baskette had rubbed off all 
 the soft and good aspirations of his boy- 
 hood ; but the ambition which was ^t the 
 bottom of those schemes remained, and had 
 intensified tenfold. He was burning wjth 
 ambition. The hereditary mind of the 
 Easkettes, their brain power, had descended 
 to him in full vigour (though hitherto he 
 had wasted, it), and he also inherited their 
 thirst for wealth. But his idea of obtain- 
 ing it was totally ojDposed to the family 
 tradition. The family tradition was a pri- 
 vate life devoted with the patience and self- 
 denial of a martyr to the accumulation of 
 gold. 
 
 Marese's one absorbing idea was power. 
 To be a ruler, a statesman, a leader, was 
 his one consuming desire. As a ruler he 
 thought, as a member of the Cabinet, it 
 would be easy for him to affect the market 
 in his favour, for Marese was a gambler 
 
FACTS. 155 
 
 already upon a gigantic scale. The Stock 
 Exchange and the Bourse were his arena. 
 
 The intense vanity of the man, which 
 led him to seriously hope even for the 
 English Premiership, was, doubtless, a frait 
 derived from his mother. " If I had my 
 rights," he was accustomed to say to Theo- 
 dore, " I should be not only the wealthiest 
 man in England, but in Europe and 
 America. My father's property has more 
 than doubled in value. In Eno^land the 
 wealthiest man at once takes a position 
 above crowds of clever people who have 
 nothino^ but their talents. Without any 
 conceit, I can safely say that I am clever. 
 A clever, wealthy man is so great a rarity 
 that my elevation is a certainty. But 
 nothing can be done without money. At 
 present my wealth is a shadow only. The 
 one thing, Theodore, is money. Our Stock 
 Exchange labour is, in a sense, wasted ; our 
 operations are not large enough. What we 
 make is barely sufficient to provide us with 
 
156 WORLD'S E:ND. 
 
 common luxuries (he did not pretend to say 
 necessities) and to keep our creditors quiet. 
 Nothing remains for bolder actions. I am 
 thirty, and I have not yet entered the House." 
 This last remark was always the conclu- 
 sion of his reflections. In a sense, it was 
 like Csesar lamenting upon seeing a statue of 
 Alexander — that he had done nothing at 
 an age when Alexander had conquered the 
 world. He had not even the means to fight 
 the enemies who withheld his birthright 
 from him. The bitterness engendered of 
 these wrongs, the constant brooding over 
 the career that was lost to him, obscured 
 what little moral sense had been left in him 
 after the course of life he had been through ; 
 and the once gentle boy was now ripe for 
 any guilt. The verse so often upon the 
 lips of the tyrant was for ever in his mind, 
 and perpetually escaped him unconsciously — 
 
 Be just, unless a kingdom tempt to break tlie laws, 
 For sovereign power alone can justify the cause. 
 
 Like his father Sternhold, he looked upon 
 
FACTS. 157 
 
 the undisputed possession of such an estate 
 as conferring powers and position nothing 
 inferior to that of a monarch. His dislike 
 to all things American — in consequence of 
 the claims, now more loudly proclaimed 
 than ever, of the Baskettes from the States 
 — grew to be almost a monomania. He 
 wished that the United States people had 
 but one neck, that he might destroy them 
 all at once — applying the Eoman emperor's 
 saying to his own affairs. 
 
 His especially favourite study was " The 
 Prince" of Machiavelli, which he always 
 carried with him. His copy was anno- 
 tated with a scheme for applying the in- 
 structions therein given to modern times — 
 the outline of the original requiring much 
 modification to suit the changes in the con- 
 stitution of society. Some day he hoped 
 to utilise the labours of the man whose 
 name has become the familiar soubriquet of 
 the Devil. 
 
 Theodore, whom Aurelian had made 
 
158 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 qualify as a surgeon, was imbued with an 
 inherited taste for recondite research. He 
 would return from a wild scene of debauchery 
 at early dawn, and drawing the curtains and 
 lighting his lamp to exclude daylight, 
 plunge into the devious paths of forbidden 
 science. Keen and shrewd as he was, he 
 did not disdain even alchemy, bringing to 
 the crude ideas of the ancients all the know- 
 ledge of the moderns. Cruel by nature, he 
 excelled in the manipulation of the dissect^ 
 ing knife, and in the cities upon the Conti- 
 nent where their wanderings led them, lost 
 no opportunity of practising with the resi- 
 dent medical men, or of studying those 
 wonderful museums which are concealed in 
 certain places abroad. Marese was the fiery 
 charger, ready to dash at every obstacle ; 
 Theodore was the charioteer — the head which 
 guided and suggested. Yet all their con- 
 centrated thought couid not devise a method 
 by which Marese might obtain the full 
 enjoyment of his estate. Briefly, this was 
 
FACTS. 15^ 
 
 the condition of Marese's mind and his 
 position, when the death of Aurelian took 
 place, and a letter reached them written by 
 him in his last hours, entreating their re- 
 turn to Stirmingham for reasons connected 
 with the estate. They went, and a woman 
 went with them as far as London — a woman 
 w^hom we must meet hereafter, but who 
 shall be avoided as much as possible. 
 
 They arrived at Stirmingham unannounced, 
 and examined the papers which the deceased 
 had particularly recommended to their study. 
 Aurelian, as has been said, was baffled but 
 not beaten. The fascination of the vast estate 
 held his mind, as it held so many others, in 
 an iron vice. The whole of his life was 
 devoted to it. He had searched and searched 
 back into the past, groping from point to 
 point, and he had accumulated such a mass 
 of evidence as had never been suspected. 
 
 He knew far more even than poor Stern- 
 hold, who had occupied himself exclusively 
 with the future. 
 
160 WOELD'S END. 
 
 Marese and Theodore, living quietly in 
 the residence attached to the asylum for 
 the insane, which Aurelian had continued 
 to keep, carefully studied these papers by 
 the light of the lucid commentary the dead 
 man had left. It is needless to recount the 
 whole of the contents — most of them are 
 known already to the reader. But the sub- 
 stance of it all was that three great dangers 
 menaced the estate. The first was the 
 claims of the Baskettes from America. 
 
 The evidence which Aurelian had collected 
 was clear that the land they had occupied 
 in the Swamp had been practically theirs, 
 since they had paid no rent ; but as to their 
 power of handing it over to Sternhold, it 
 was extremely questionable. The second 
 great danger was the claim of a new tribe 
 that had recently started up — the descen- 
 dants of James Sibbold, who had also ex- 
 patriated themselves. 
 
 It was doubtful if the transfer made by 
 their ancestors could be maintained, and 
 
FACTS. 161 
 
 for this simple reason — it was doubtful 
 whether James Sibbold himself had any 
 right to the property his sons sold to Stern- 
 hold. He was not the eldest son. The 
 eldest son, Arthur, had disappeared for a 
 number of years ; but there was not the 
 slightest proof that he had died childless. 
 Far from it. Aurelian, incessantly search- 
 ing, had found out what no one else yet 
 knew — that Arthur had married, had had 
 children, and that one at least of his de- 
 scendants was living but a short time since. 
 
 When Marese had read thus far his coun- 
 tenance turned livid, and Theodore feared 
 he would have fallen in a fit. The savage 
 passions inherited from his mother surged 
 up in his frame, and overmastered him. 
 He was ill for days, almost unconscious — 
 the shock was so great, his passion so fierce 
 — but presently recovering, read on. 
 
 Aurelian had traced Arthur in his wan- 
 derings, had traced his marriage — but there 
 was one loophole. Do what he might, 
 
 VOL. I. 11 
 
162 WORLD'S END. 
 
 Aurelian could not discover where Arthur 
 had married. It was in London, but a 
 minute search failed to discover the churchy 
 and the register could not be found. 
 
 This fact, and the fact of the long silence, 
 the absence of any claim being put forward, 
 led Aurelian to believe that there reallv 
 v^'as no legal marriage — that it was only 
 reputed. He hoped as much, at all events. 
 
 There was another loophole — the deed 
 which old Sibbold had so treasured in his 
 padlocked oaken chest — the deed which 
 settled the inheritance (on the female as well 
 as the male) — had disappeared. Sternhold 
 had searched for it and failed. It was lost. 
 If the marriage could not be proved, and if 
 the deed was really lost, then there was no 
 danger from Arthur Sibbold's descendants ; 
 but there remained those " ifs." Also, if 
 Arthur's claim was put aside, then the suc- 
 cession would of course belong to his 
 brother James SibbokVs descendants : but 
 then again came in the question — Could 
 
FACTS. 163 
 
 these Sibbolds sign away (to Sternhold) an 
 inheritance which at the time was entailed ? 
 Aurelian finished with several hints and 
 schemes which need not be gone into here, 
 and indeed were never carried out. But his 
 one great point throughout was a warning 
 against the Kving descendant of Arthur 
 Sibbohl, whose name and present address 
 he had discovered and left for Marese, and 
 against the companies who held the leases. 
 " For/' said he, " these companies would 
 foster any and every claim against the 
 estate ; anything to bar the succession of 
 Marese, the heir, in order to obtain a grant 
 or extension of time from the courts of law^ 
 to enable them to hold the property till the 
 succession to the estate was estabUshed.'* 
 These companies were so rich and powerful 
 that it was difficult to contend against 
 them. Their strensrth was monev, their 
 weapons were the various claimants. 
 
 " Therefore," WTote Aurelian, " the first 
 thing is money, and I wish my property ta 
 
 11 — 2 
 
164 WOELD'S END. 
 
 be used freely for this end, convinced that 
 you will do Theodore full justice ; and I 
 bid you, if possible, to take the iveapons of 
 the companies out of their hands. Without 
 the claimants they are powerless." 
 
 These papers, and the facts and reflections 
 they contained, made the deepest impression 
 upon Marese and Theodore. In secret they 
 walked through the city of Stirmingham, 
 and marked its wealth, its vastness, its 
 trade and population. 
 
 '' And nearly all this is mine," whispered 
 Marese, pale as death in his subdued excite- 
 ment. He had to hold Theodore's arm to 
 sustain his body, for, strong as he was, he 
 trembled. 
 
 !Next day they left for London, for Marese 
 could not bear the Tantalus-like view of the 
 wealth which was and was not his. In 
 London they thought and planned as only 
 such men seeking such an end can think 
 and plan. 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 HILE Marese and Theodore are 
 maturing tlieir plans, it will con- 
 duce to the easier comprehension 
 of the horrible, complicated events which 
 followed, if the past history of the estate 
 be briefly summed up in such a manner 
 that this chapter can be used for reference. 
 In the commencement, nearly a century 
 previous to the present time, we have seen 
 old Sibbold, the morose miser, gloating over 
 his money, and studying his title-deeds. 
 These gave him an unquestioned right to 
 the farm he occupied, and to the Swamp, 
 or waste land, which had been squatted on 
 by Will Baskette and his companions. 
 This right mainly depended, though not 
 entirely, upon a certain deed of entail. 
 
166 WORLD'S END. 
 
 "Without that deed Sibbold had still suffi- 
 cient evidence to prove his right to .his 
 farm, but not to the Swamp ; without that 
 deed there was no fixed succession — that is 
 to saj, he could have devised it to any one 
 he chose. 
 
 There was, therefore, just the possi- 
 bility that, hating his eldest son Arthur, 
 he had himself destroyed this deed, in 
 order to prepare the way for his second 
 son, James. But against this supposition 
 there was the known character of the man, 
 which led one to imagine that he would 
 rather have died than give up the smallest 
 fraction of his possessions. At all events, 
 this deed was missing, as were several others 
 of little or no value, such as expired leases 
 of fields to tenants, which had once been 
 kept in Sibbold's oaken press, under padlock 
 and key. 
 
 When Sibbold met w^th his death at the 
 hands of highwaymen, the farm and waste 
 lands, in the natural course of things, would 
 
FACTS. 1G7 
 
 Lave passed to his eldest son, Arthur, but 
 lie liavhig disappeared, and not appearing 
 to make a claim, James Sibbold, the 
 younger son, took the property. The 
 majority of people always thought, from 
 the fact of Arthur's not returninor to claim 
 his birthright, that he had had a hand in 
 the slaughter of old Will Easkette, and 
 that his conscience drove him away. 
 
 James Sibbold, after awhile, married, and 
 had several sons. In time he died, and 
 these sons, though married, still all re- 
 mained living on the farmstead, or in the 
 outhouses ; for as it was known that James' 
 right was doubtful, they could not agree 
 about the succession, and preferred to live 
 like pigs rather than go to law and have it 
 settled, since the result was so uncertain. 
 At the same time the squatters, basket- 
 makers, reed-cutters, clothes-peg makers, 
 '^c, who resided in the Swamp which the 
 rat had caused, had considerably increased 
 in numbers, and were always called, after 
 
168 WORLD'S END. 
 
 their former chief, by the name of Bas- 
 kette. 
 
 This chief at the date of his death had 
 two sons. The eldest went off with his 
 mother, and joined the original gipsy-tribe ; 
 the youngest, whose name or nickname was 
 Eomy, entered the service of the clergyman. 
 The eldest was never heard of more ; but 
 Romy prospered, and in early middle age 
 bought an estate and country mansion, not 
 far from his birthplace. 
 
 It was he who opened up the concealed 
 mineral wealth of coal and iron, and thus, 
 as everything goes by contradiction in this 
 w^orld, it happened that the descendant of 
 gipsies, notorious for their wandering habits 
 and dislike of houses, was the founder of 
 one of the largest cities in the world. 
 
 He married with every legal formality, 
 and his son, Sternhold Baskette, imbued 
 with the firmest convictions that in the 
 future the young city would prosper to an 
 unprecedented extent, employed the whole 
 
FACTS. 169 
 
 of the wealth he inherited in purchasing 
 land and erecting houses. 
 
 In the course of his transactions he de- 
 sired to purchase the Wick Farm, where old 
 Sibbold had dwelt, and the Swamp where 
 the Baskette tribe flourished. Finding the 
 title of the vendors imperfect, he devised 
 the strongest safeguard he could think of, 
 which was to make all the Sibbolds then 
 living or known, to sign one document, and 
 all the reputed Baskettes to sign another. 
 He then transhipped them all to America — 
 first, to get complete possession ; secondly, 
 in the hope that they would never return to 
 trouble him. 
 
 He proceeded to drain the Swamp, and 
 to convert it into the Belgravia of Stirming- 
 ham. But this project required an enor- 
 mous expenditure, and just at that moment 
 the first railway to the place, which he had 
 largely supported, came to a standstill, and 
 ate up all his available capital. AVheu, 
 therefore, a return of commercial prosperity 
 
170 WORLD'S END. 
 
 took place, lie tbnnd it impossible alone to 
 complete the vast scheme of streets, squares, 
 &c., which had been commenced. 
 
 Then the building-lease plan was re- 
 sorted to — the very keystone of all this 
 curious history. First, the Corporation of 
 the city took a large slice of the uncompleted 
 property of him on a building lease for a 
 term of years, on the expiration of which 
 the whole reverted to him or his heirs 
 (practically his heirs, as he was not likely 
 to live to the age of 120 years). 
 
 After they had commenced building some 
 uncertainty arose as to whether or no they 
 had the power to enter into such an agree- 
 ment; they could bind themselves, but 
 could they bind their successors in office? 
 This took place, it must be remembered, 
 long, long before the recent sanitary legis- 
 lation, which gives such extensive powers to 
 local bodies. 
 
 In order to confirm their proceedings 
 they obtained a private Act of Parliament, 
 
FACTS. 171 
 
 which, when it was drawn up, seemed to be 
 worded clearly enough. But every one 
 knows that after the lapse of thirty years or 
 less, words in an inexplicable manner seem 
 to lose their meaning, and to become capable 
 of more than one interpretation. This is 
 perhaps because the persons who read them 
 are influenced unconsciously by a series of 
 circumstances which did not exist at the 
 time the document was composed. 
 
 At any rate, at the date when Marese and 
 Theodore were thinking and scheming, 
 there had already been a great deal of con- 
 tention over the precise scope of several 
 sentences in this Act : a part of which arose 
 over the question of repairs to the buildings, 
 and partly as to whether, by a little straining, 
 the seventy years of the lease might not be 
 construed to mean practicall}^ for ever. 
 
 This little straining was managed in this 
 way. When did the lease commence ? Had 
 not each successive Mayor got the right to 
 say, *' This lease, as interpreted by the Pri- 
 
]72 WORLD'S EXD. 
 
 vate Act, means, not seventy years from the 
 days of my predecessor, but seventy years 
 from tlie commencement of my term of 
 office." By this way of looking at it, so 
 long as there was a Mayor the Corporation 
 would always have seventy years to look 
 forward to. 
 
 Of course all such reasoning was nothing 
 but pure sophistry ; but then most law is 
 sophistry, and sophistry when supported by 
 a rich body of men and called Vested 
 Interest, is often much stronger than the 
 highly belauded and really feeble truth. 
 
 Here was a tough Grordian knot, to add 
 to the already difficult question of original 
 title. But this was only the preface to the 
 complications to follow. There still re- 
 mained, after the Corporation had taken a 
 part, a huge howling wilderness -of streets 
 with walls two feet high. Companies or 
 syndicates were formed (eight companies in 
 all) — perhaps they had better be called in 
 modern parlance building societies — who 
 
FACTS. 173 
 
 took this howling wilderness on the same 
 system of building leases, to fall in at a 
 certain date. 
 
 Apparently in this case it was all plain, 
 straightforward sailing ; but not so. Stern- 
 hold Baskette got into difficulties over 
 Railway No. 2, and had to borrow money. 
 He also had to borrow money to complete 
 portions of the estate which he had kept in 
 his own hands, and to acquire lands just 
 outside the city. Lastl3% he had to borrow 
 money to support the extravagance of his 
 wife. In the aggregate these sums were 
 something enormous. 
 
 At the moment of borrowing he was 
 under the impression that he had dealt with 
 independent persons — with financiers, in 
 fact, of London, being so assured by his 
 solicitors. These solicitors had had a pretty 
 picking out of his railways and estates ; they 
 had grown fat and prosperous upon him, 
 and might, ojie would have thought, have 
 been trusted to serve him honestly. 
 
174 WORLD'S END. 
 
 But no — whenever was there a friendship 
 formed in business? Ostensibly, the finan- 
 ciers who advanced the cash were indepen- 
 dent; in reahtj, they acted for certain of 
 these very aforesaid building societies who 
 had taken the building leases ! Four at 
 least of them had their money thus out 
 upon good security ; and Sternhold, unknow- 
 ingly at first, ovred them a large fortune. 
 
 For their own interest they had proved 
 easy creditors. They had not called in the 
 loans; not a fraction of the original sums 
 borrowed from them to complete Bailway 
 'No. 2, to finish houses, buy fresh lands, to 
 pay for Lucia's extravagance, had been re- 
 paid. Yery little of the interest had been 
 cleared ofi*; none while Sternhold lived. 
 They knew that they were safe. The rail- 
 way was now paying a fair dividend, the 
 houses and lands had trebled in value ; as 
 for Lucia's waste it was small in com- 
 parison — when they chose to call in their 
 money they could seize upon property ta 
 
FACTS. 175 
 
 twice the amount clue, even vritli added 
 interest. 
 
 But they did not choose to call in then- 
 money. The leases were now approaching 
 the day of expiration. They knew that the 
 trustees of Sternhold's estate had not one 
 tithe of the cash required to meet their 
 demands : they would be compelled to 
 submit to one of two things- — first, they 
 must ^deld up a good part of the estate, or 
 thev must g^rant an extension of the leases 
 — either of which would suit the societies 
 exactly. 
 
 They intended to pnsli matters in such 
 a way as to compel the trustees to extend 
 the term, in order to retain both halves, as 
 it were, of the estate under their control. 
 This was Gordian knot Xo. 3. How was 
 the heir to come by his own through all 
 this ? It was impossible, unless he could 
 scrape together suflQcicnt money to pay off 
 the loans whicli had been contracted by 
 his father. He \vould then be in a position 
 
176 WORLD'S END. 
 
 to claim the property held by the trustees 
 at the expiration of the leases, which was 
 now fast approaching. 
 
 The other four companies had got wind 
 of this nice little arrangement, and it upset 
 them extremely. Tliey had not been balf 
 so shrewd as their fellows, and that was a 
 bitter reflection. They foresaw their valu- 
 able properties passing away from them, 
 while the other societies held fast to their 
 share. It was gall and wormwood. 
 
 But they were not to be outdone in the 
 Art of Entanglement. Sternhold was dead ; 
 they could not lend him money. But the 
 heir, our friend Marese, was living, and 
 living "fast;" and not only that, he was 
 speculating heavily upon the Stock Ex- 
 change. Here was a fine opening. With 
 careful and judicious management they 
 bought up all Marese's debts ; they lent 
 him money to a large amount through 
 their agents, keeping themselves in the 
 background out of sight; and they had 
 
FACTS. 177 
 
 gentlemen always on the watch on the 
 Exchange, whose business it was to tempt 
 Marese into apparently good bargains with 
 floating paper. 
 
 Not content with this, they had still 
 further secured themselves. They had 
 allied themselves with a certain powerful 
 and enterprising railway compan3\ This 
 company had hitherto been shut out of 
 Stirminghara, and were extremely desirous 
 of getting access to it. These second four 
 societies combined, and declared that in the 
 interests of the properties committed to their 
 charge (save the mark !) it was essential 
 that there should be more direct railway 
 communication with a certain district which 
 it is immaterial to name, and that there 
 should be a station close to their portion 
 of the estate, the other stations being at 
 some distance. The enterprising railway 
 company would guarantee good terms if 
 the trustees of the estate would enter into 
 as^reement with them. 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
17S WORLD'S END. 
 
 The upsliot was that another Act of Par- 
 liament was obtained by the influence of 
 the said powerful railway company, autho- 
 rising this line, station, and agreement. 
 It was now argued that this Act and 
 a2:reeDieut would override the ori^^inal 
 building leases ; especially as the railway 
 company were prepared to prove that they 
 had not yet reaped any reasonable benefit, 
 and, unless the leases were extended, 
 would be serious losers. As they had im- 
 mense interest in the House, they were 
 likely enough to gain their point. Here 
 were two more Gordian knots, IsTos. 4 
 and 5 ! 
 
 Then there v^as the list of claimants to 
 the estate, which had now been swelled 
 from all parts of the world, and the series 
 of suits and pleas, and Heaven knows Vv'hat 
 other litigation threatened by them, miaking 
 Gordian knot Xo. 6. Finally, the estate 
 was in Chancery. Knot No. 7. 
 
 Here was a pleasant prospect for the 
 
FACTS. 179 
 
 lieir ! To put all the rest on one side, on 
 the day that the buildmg leases expired, 
 and he stepped forward to claim his rights, 
 the building societies would present him 
 w^ith the folio wino^ neat little bill : — 
 
 Societies 1, 2, 3, -4 : — 
 
 To Loans advanced for completion of 
 
 Eaihvay £123,000 
 
 To Interest on same at 4 per cent. . 50,000 
 
 To Loans advanced for completion of 
 
 Houses, and Purchase of Estates 240,000 
 
 To Interest on tlie same at 3 per cent. 38,000 
 
 To Private Loans on Bills [to Stern- 
 hold Baskette] at 5 per cent. . . 20,000 
 
 To Interest on the same 3,000 
 
 Total .... £474,000 
 
 Societies 5, 6, 7, 8 : — 
 
 To Private Loans on Bills [to Marese 
 
 Baskette] at 8 and 10 per cent. . £65,000 
 
 To Interest on the same 11,000 
 
 To Paper Transactions as x)er Bill of 
 
 Particulars, due 80,000 
 
 To Advances on Ptailway Extension, 
 
 as per Parliamentary Act . . . 118,000 
 
 Total .... £304,000 
 
 Total of Bills to meet before taking possession of 
 property on expiration of leases, £778,000. 
 
 1.0 — 2 
 
180 WOELD'S END. 
 
 " After all," said Marese to Theodore, as 
 they planned and schemed, and smoked 
 cigars at 1205. the hundred, "after all, 
 old fellow, this is but one year's income 
 if I could only get possession. And 
 I believe we could finance the thing 
 and raise the money without difficulty, 
 if it were not for those cursed, hateful 
 claimants from America and elsewhere. 
 The Jews fight shy on account of the title 
 difficulty. If we could but get rid of those 
 claimants !" 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 HEEE was once a very wise man 
 who invented what was considered 
 a saying almost inspired, which 
 was afterwards inculcated as a most impor- 
 tant lesson by mighty princes upon their 
 sons, and continues to be constantly quoted 
 in our day with approval — it is, that " Unity 
 is strength." But the strength of the 
 claimants to the Baskette estate consisted 
 in the number of their scattered forces. 
 
 All that Marese, the heir, could have 
 desired was that by some means they could 
 be condensed into one person, and thus 
 destroyed at a blow. They had increased 
 as the years went by in a geometrical ratio, 
 till the total formed a small battalion. 
 
 When the idea of making claims upon 
 
182 AVOELD'S EXD. 
 
 the estate first arose in America, there were 
 ah'eady quite fifty families who in one way 
 or another thought they had "rights." 
 About a dozen visited Stirmingham, and 
 all but drove poor old Sternhold frantic. 
 That vras a generation ago, and the tribe 
 had nearly trebled. Mothers of children 
 who had the remotest possible chance of a 
 share in the prize took care to have them 
 christened Baskette or Sternhold. There 
 were Sternhold Baskette Browns, Baskette 
 Johnsons, Baskette Stirmingham Slicks, 
 English Baskette Yfilliamsons, and every 
 possible combination of Baskette. 
 
 Those who, either by the male or female 
 side, really could show some species of proof 
 that they were descended from the seventeen 
 squatters who were transhipped to the 
 States now numbered no less than one 
 hundred and forty-three individuals — men, 
 women, and children. To distinguish them- 
 selves from other claimants, they called 
 themselves "The True Swampers." 
 
FACTS. 18a 
 
 But in addition to these, there was a 
 host of other Baskettes, who in one way 
 or another foisted in their names. There 
 were Baskets, Bascots, Buscots, Biscuits, 
 Buschcotts, Bosquettes — every conceivable 
 variation of spelling from every State and 
 territory, who declared that they were 
 related to the parent stem of Will Baskette, 
 the squatter, who was shot by old Sibbold. 
 These might be called for distinction the 
 pseudo-Baskettes. 
 
 Then among the True Swampers there 
 was an inner circle, who professed to have 
 prominent '' rights" on account of their pro- 
 genitors having been more nearly related 
 to the original Will Baskette. They argued 
 that the others were not true Baskettes, 
 and had only adopted that name from the 
 chief, while they were real blood Baskettes. 
 
 In addition, there was another host of 
 people who made a virtue of proclaiming 
 that they were not named Baskette. They 
 did not profess to be named Baskette — 
 
184 WOELD'S EXD. 
 
 they did not take a name which was not 
 theirs ! They were Washingtons, Curries, 
 Bolters, Gregorys, Jamesons, and so on. 
 But they had claims because their father's 
 wives were of the Baskette blood. 
 
 Finally, there was another sub-division 
 who loudly maintained that half of the 
 original cotters who landed in New York 
 were not Baskettes, but Gibbs, Webbes, 
 Colborns, and so on, and that they were 
 the descendants of these people. And 
 there were some who went the length 
 of declaring that they were descended from 
 two alleged illegitimate sons of old Eomy 
 Baskette ! 
 
 The Baskette Battalion was therefore 
 made up of — 1 st. The Pure Blood Baskettes ; 
 2nd. The True Swampers; 8rd. Demi- 
 Baskettes, who had that name added to 
 another ; 4th. Nominal Baskettes, whose 
 names had an accidental resemblance ; 
 5th. The Feminine Baskettes, descended 
 from women of Baskette strain ; 6th. Inde - 
 
FACTS. 185 
 
 pendent Squatters, not Easkettes, but com- 
 panions ; 7tb. Illegitimate Baskettes ! 
 
 Then there were the Sibbolds — such a 
 catalogue ! These had been slower to wake 
 up to their " rights" than the Baskettes, but 
 when they did discover them they came in 
 crowds. First, there were the descendants, 
 in a straight line, of the eight sons of James 
 Sibbold, shipped (six with families) to New 
 York. They had multiplied exceedingly, and 
 there was no end to them. The simply 
 Sibbolds, as we may call them, numbered no 
 less than two hundred and eighteen, all told 
 — men, women, and children. Every one of 
 these had some register, some old book — many 
 of these books were worm-eaten copies of 
 Tom Paine's " Eights of Man" — some piece 
 of paper or other to prove that they had 
 the blood of James Sibbold in their veins. 
 
 Then there were all the ramifications, pretty 
 much like the Baskette branches ; innume- 
 rable cadets distantly related, innumerable 
 people whose wife's uncle's mother or 
 
186 "WORLD-S EXD. 
 
 cousin's name was Sibbold; and all the 
 various Sibbolde, Sibboldes, Sibald, Sigbeld, 
 Sybels, Sibils, Sibelus, Sibilsons, ad libitum , 
 Illegitimate Sibbolds were as plentiful as 
 blackberries, and all ready to argue the 
 merits of the case with revolver and bowie. 
 If the Baskettes made up a battaliou, the 
 Sibbolds formed an army ! 
 
 Between these two great divisions there 
 was the bitterest enmity. The Baskettes 
 derided the claims of the Sibbolds \ the 
 Sibbolds derided those of the Baskettes. 
 The Sibbolds told the Baskettes that they 
 were an ill-conditioned lot; if they had 
 been respectable people, and really his re- 
 lations, old Sternhold would never have 
 shipped them to America out of his sight. 
 The Baskettes retorted that the Sibbolds 
 were ashamed to stay in England, for they 
 were the sons of a murderer; they w^ere 
 the descendants of a dastardly cow^ard, who 
 shot a man through a window. The Sib- 
 bolds snarled, and pointed out that the 
 
FACTS. 187 
 
 great chief of the Baskettes vvas nothing 
 but a thief, caught in the act and de- 
 servedly 2^^^i*^^^j ^ lot of semi-gipsies, 
 rogues, and vagabonds. Their very name 
 showed that thev were but basket-makers ; 
 they were not even pure gip^y blood — 
 miserable squatters on another man's 
 property. 
 
 Blows were not nnfrequently exchanged 
 in the saloons and drinking- stores over 
 these quarrels. The result was the forma- 
 tion of two distinct societies, each deter- 
 mined to prosecute its own claim .and 
 to oust the other at all hazards. The 
 Baskette battalion relied upon the admitted 
 non-payment of rent by their foref?ithers 
 to upset all subsequent agreements, and 
 they agreed also that this agreement which 
 their forefathers had signed was not binding 
 on the remote descendants. The document 
 was obtained by trickerj^, and the land was 
 not put to the use the vendors had under- 
 stood it was to be put, as the representatives 
 
188 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 now alleged, to simple agricultural purposes. 
 Further, each of those who signed the docu- 
 ment only gave up his cottage and the small 
 plot of garden round it ; they did not sell 
 the waste land between the islands. 
 
 The Sibbolds principal argument was 
 that their forefathers could not sign away 
 an entailed estate without previously cutting 
 off the entail, and it was acknowledged that 
 this had not been done. But, said the 
 Baskettes, there was a qjiestion if the land 
 ever w^as entailed ; let the Sibbolds produce 
 the deed, and if it was not entailed, where 
 was their claim ? 
 
 Each of these divisions formed itself into 
 a society, with a regular committee and 
 place of meeting, a minute-book to record 
 accumulated evidence, legal gentlemen to 
 advise, corresponding secretaries, and Heaven 
 knows what. They actually issued gazettes 
 — printed sheets of intelligence. There was 
 the Baskette Gazette and the Sibbold Gazette, 
 which papers carefully recorded all deaths, 
 
FACTS. 189 
 
 marriages, and new claims. There was a 
 complete organisation, and a fine thing it 
 was for the lawyers and some few sharp 
 young men. 
 
 Of late these societies had received more 
 or less cordial overtures from the eisrht 
 building societies at Stirmingham who held 
 the leases. The first four societies en- 
 couraged the Baskette battalion, the second 
 held out hopes to the Sibbolds. The 
 cunning building societies, without com- 
 mitting themselves, desired nothing better 
 than protracted litigation between these 
 claimants and the heir, in the certainty 
 that meantime they should reap the benefit. 
 
 Among the American corps of claimants 
 there were men of all classes — from common 
 labourers, saloon-keepers, &c., up to judges, 
 editors, financiers, merchants ; and many of 
 them were clever, far-seeing persons, who, 
 without putting any weight upon the some- 
 what strained "rights" they professed to 
 believe in, still thought tliat there was 
 
190 WOELD'S EXD. 
 
 " something in it, you know/' and money 
 might be got by persistent agitation, if it 
 was only hush-money. 
 
 Throughout many turbulent States there 
 was at one time quite a feeling aroused 
 against England (which added its venom 
 to the unfortunate Alabama business), as 
 having unjustly kept what w^as due to 
 American citizens. These societies had 
 their resfular asrents in Stirminc^ham and 
 London, whose duty it was to report every 
 change that took place, every variation of 
 the case, and to accumulate evidence and 
 transmit it. These bulletins were received 
 by the " caucuses," and sometimes printed 
 in the Gazettes. 
 
 Besides these regular organisations, who 
 had money at disposal and were really 
 formidable, there were several free lances 
 careering over the country, representing 
 themselves as the sons of the elder brother 
 of Eomy Baskette, the brother who had 
 disappeared Vvnth the gipsies. These were 
 
FACTS. 191 
 
 downriglit impostors, and yet got a living 
 out of the case. Several lecturers also 
 promenaded the States, who made a good 
 thing of it by giving a popular version of 
 the story, illustrated by a diorama of inci- 
 dents in the lives of the principal actors, 
 from the shooting of Will Baskette to the 
 appearance of Lucia Marese as Lady Godiva. 
 It was singular that no one presented him- 
 self as a descendant of Arthur Sibbold ; he 
 seemed to have been c[uite forgotten. So 
 much for America. 
 
 From Australia there came, time after 
 time, the most startling reports, as is usual 
 when any cause celebre is proceeding in the 
 Old World. ISTovr, it was a miner at the 
 diggings who had made extraordinary dis- 
 closures; now, some shepherd on a sheep- 
 run, after a fit of illness, found his memory 
 returned, and recollected where important 
 deeds were deposited. 
 
 Nothing, however, came of it. The 
 principal seats of disturbance were America 
 
192 WORLD'S END. 
 
 and England ; for England produced a 
 crop of what we may call Provisional, or 
 Partial Claimants. Here and there, scat- 
 tered all over the country — from Kent to 
 Cornwall, from Hampshire to Northumber- 
 land — were people of the name of Baskette, 
 which is a very ancient English cognomen, 
 and to be found in every collection of sur- 
 names. 
 
 Most of these were of little or no con- 
 sequence, but one or two held good posi- 
 tions as gentlemen or merchants. None of 
 these latter made the shadow of a pretence 
 to the estate, but they were fond of specu- 
 lating as to their possible remote connection 
 with the now famous Baskette stock ; and 
 some said that if anything did turn up, if 
 any practical results followed the American 
 attempt, it would be as well to be prepared 
 to take a share in the spoil. 
 
 There were also at least three impostors — 
 utter scoundrels, who obtained a profusion 
 of drink and some sustenance from credu- 
 
FACTS. 193 
 
 lous fools in tap-rooras by pretending that 
 they were descendants of the elder brother of 
 Romy Baskette. They had not the shadow 
 of a proof, and ought to have been treated to 
 a dose of " cell." 
 
 A gipsy-tribe, a travelling clan which 
 went about the country with shooting gal- 
 leries, merry-go-rounds, peep-shows, and so 
 on, were in the habit of proclaiming that 
 they were the very identical tribe from 
 whom oifshoots settled in the historical 
 swamp at Wolf's Glow, in order to attract 
 custom. 
 
 Certain persons in and around Stirming- 
 ham, whose fathers or ancestors had sold 
 lands to Sternhold Baskette — lands now 
 worth ten, and in some cases a thousand, 
 times the price he had given for them — 
 had a fallacious idea that if the title of the 
 heir was upset, . they would have a chance 
 of regaining possession, or at least of an 
 additional payment for the property. 
 
 They formed themselves into a loosely- 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 WOELD'S END. 
 
 compacted society to protect their interest. 
 It was remarkable that in Ens^land, as in 
 America, no one set np a claim to be the 
 descendant of Arthur Sibbold. The real 
 danger was from America, the land of 
 organisation. 
 
 But in England there was a class of per- 
 sons w^ho, without possessing any personal 
 interest in the matter, made it their especial 
 business to collect all the *' ana " that could 
 be discovered, and gained a livelihood out 
 of their study of the case. More than one 
 private inquir}^ office in London received 
 large fees from New York clients to make 
 special investigations. The credulity of 
 mankind is exhibited in a striking manner 
 in the support given to these offices. How 
 should they be supposed to be so devotedly 
 attached to the cause of one client? Wliat 
 is to prevent them having fifty, all with the 
 same end, and from selling the information 
 gained from one to the other? 
 
 There were men who made it a speciality 
 
FACTS. 195 
 
 of their trade to collect all books, pamphlets, 
 pictures, lectures, genealogies, deeds, docu- 
 ments, letters, papers, . souvenirs — anything 
 and everything, from Sternhold Baskette's 
 old hat upwards, that could be twisted into 
 relation with the case. 
 
 Those who have never had any leaning 
 towards antiquarian research have no idea 
 of the enormous business done in this way — 
 not only in reference to great cases of this 
 kind, but in reference to matters that would 
 appear to an outsider as absolutely not 
 worth a thought. There is scarcely a scrap 
 of wTitten or printed paper of the last 
 century, or up to within fifty years of the 
 present date, which has not got its value 
 to such a collector, for he knows there 
 will be fools to buy them. Sometimes it 
 happens that an apparently worthless piece 
 of paper or parchment, bought as waste, 
 turns out, under his sharp eye, to be a 
 really awkward thing for some owner of 
 property unless he purchases it. 
 
 13—2 
 
196 AVOELD'S END. 
 
 There were lawyers in a peculiar way of 
 business who did not disdain this species of 
 work, and presently they may cross our path. 
 Such men were in constant communication 
 with people on the other side of the Atlantic, 
 where there is, year by year, an increasing 
 desire manifested to trace out genealogies. 
 
 The year in which, in the ordinary course 
 of events, the building societies and the 
 Corporation must relinquish their expired 
 leases was now fast approaching. Some 
 such person as has been described was 
 seized with a brilliant idea, and made haste 
 to advertise it. Why should not all the 
 claimants to the estate meet on the dis- 
 puted spot at this critical moment ? Why 
 should there not be a regular family 
 council, the largest and most important 
 that had ever taken place ? The idea was 
 a good one, and spread like wildfire. The 
 newspapers took it up ; the American socie- 
 ties thought highly of it. Nothing like a 
 grand demonstration. 
 
FACTS. 197 
 
 The upshot was that Stirmingham began 
 to look forward to the assembling of these 
 would-be monarch s of the city, which was 
 finally, after much discussion, fixed for the 
 next New Year's Day. 
 
 This New Year's Day was fast approach- 
 ing, while Marese and Theodore planned. 
 
CHAPTEE XIIL 
 
 HE grand family council was to be 
 held at Stirmingliam on the coming 
 'New Yearns Day. How difi&cult it 
 is to trace the genesis of an. idea ! It does 
 not seem to have any regular growth — to 
 begin with a seed and cast out roots, a 
 stem, branches, leaves ; it shoots now one 
 way, now this, like those curious creatures 
 revealed by the microscope, or like the 
 germs of fungi. Upon the original thought 
 odd branches are engrafted, accidental cir- 
 cumstances suggest new developments, till 
 at last the full completed idea bears no sort 
 of resemblance to what might have been 
 expected from the embryo. 
 
 How the idea was first started neither 
 Marese nor Theodore could tell, nor how it 
 
FACTS. 199 
 
 was communicated from one to the other. 
 There is a method of communication which 
 is not dependent upon direct speech ; there 
 is a way of talking at a subject without 
 mentioning it. "When two clever men's 
 minds are full of one absorbing topic it 
 does not require formal sentences to convey 
 their conceptions. They did not seem even 
 to actually talk of it, and yet it grew and 
 grew, till it overshadowed them like a vast 
 gloomy mountain. 
 
 It would not be just to so much as hint 
 at a latent insanity in these men's minds, 
 for it would partly absolve them from 
 responsibility, and would dispose their 
 judges to regard their crimes leniently. 
 Certainly no one, if asked to do so, could 
 have pointed out two keener men of the 
 world than these. Yet, somehow, despite 
 one's reluctance to afford them the shadow 
 of an excuse, there does creep in the con- 
 viction that such a ghastly conception 
 could only be formed in a brain lacking 
 
200 WORLD'S END. 
 
 the moral organs, if such an expression 
 may be used, in a brain unbalanced with 
 natural human sympathy. 
 
 Marese's father, old Sternhold, had cer- 
 tainly been mad at one period of his career. 
 His mother, Lucia, had exhibited a vanity 
 so overweening, and a temper so intense, 
 that at times it resembled lunacy. It may 
 have been that, along with the mental 
 powers of calculation and invention which 
 distinguished old Eomy and Sternhold, 
 Marese had also inherited the mental weak- 
 ness of Sternhold and Lucia. 
 
 Theodore had shown a taste for ex- 
 traordinary studies usually avoided by 
 healthy-minded men. His father, Aurelian,, 
 had passed the whole of his time with in- 
 sane patients, and it is said that too much 
 contact with mad people reacts upon the 
 sane. He had early initiated his son into 
 the mysteries of that sad science of the 
 mind which deals with its deficiences. The 
 son's youth had been passed in constant 
 
FACTS. 201 
 
 intercourse with those harmless and, so to 
 say, reasonable lunatics who are to be met 
 with in the homes and at the dinner-tables 
 of medical men, and whose partial sanity 
 and occasional singular flashes of unnatural 
 intelligence are perhaps more calculated to 
 affect the minds of others than the vagaries 
 of the downright mad. 
 
 In one short sentence, this terrible crime, 
 which was looming over Marese and Theo- 
 dore, was nothing less than the deliberate 
 intention to destroy the whole of the 
 claimants to the estate at once. How it 
 originated it is difficult to imagine, but it 
 did. It might perhaps be partly traced to 
 the injunction in Aurelian's papers to take 
 the weapons out of the hands of the com- 
 panies ; or partly to the oft-expressed wish 
 of Marese's, after the Eoman emperor, that 
 all the claimants had but one neck, so that 
 he might cut it. The said emperor has 
 much to answer for. 
 
 The announced gathering of the claimants 
 
202 WORLD'S END. 
 
 at Stirmingliam certainly seemed to bring 
 them all within the reach of the fowler's 
 net, if he could but cast it aright. Marese 
 and Theodore had half-formed ideas of 
 blowing the whole company into the air as 
 they sat at council in the Sternhold Hall 
 on New Year's Bay, something after the 
 fashion of Guy Fawkes, but with a deadlier 
 compound than he had at his disposal — 
 nitro-glycerine or dynamite ; especially the 
 first might be trusted to do the work much 
 more effectually than gunpowder, which was 
 also more difficult to conceal on account of 
 its bulk. 
 
 It will barely be believed that these two 
 men, in the height of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury, calmly examined the vault under that 
 famous hall, in order to see if it was fitted 
 for the purpose. This hall or assembly- 
 room had been finished about the time 
 that the agitation commenced over the heir 
 to the estate, just before Sternhold had 
 married, w^hen the Corporation heaped 
 
FACTS. 203 
 
 flattery upon liim. It had been named 
 after liim. 
 
 It was a fine room, not too large, and yet 
 of sufficient size to seat an audience. The 
 object was to afford a concert-room for 
 dramatic and theatrical performances, and 
 also for balls. As the site was valuable, 
 and every particle of space had to be 
 utilised in the centre of this mighty city, 
 it had been built over vaults, w^hich were 
 intended for bonded warehouses; but partly 
 on account of the high rent asked, and 
 partly because of the dampness of the 
 cellars — the site was the very centre of 
 the old Swamp — had never been occupied. 
 The access was bad, and there was no place 
 for a display or advertisement, which was 
 another reason why the cellars had not let. 
 There was a certain amount of propriety in 
 holding: what was to be called " The Grand 
 Centennial Family Council" in this hall, 
 built upon the centre of the ancient Swamp, 
 and named after the founder of the city. 
 
204 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 Marese and Theodore, in disguise, ex- 
 amined the vaults, under the pretence of 
 being agents for London merchants desirous 
 of opening business in Stirmingham. There 
 was hardly any necessity for this precaution, 
 for it was so many years since they had 
 openly resided in the place that few would 
 have recognised them. 
 
 To their great surprise, these vaults, 
 whose gloomy darkness they explored by 
 the light of lanterns, extended in one vast 
 cavern, under the whole of the hall. In- 
 stead of a series of cellars, there was one 
 huge cavern. This was occasioned by the 
 flooring not being supported upon brick 
 arches, as would have been arcliitecturally 
 preferable, but upon timber posts, or pillars. 
 The place had, in fact, been put up hastily, 
 and the vaults were never completed. The 
 timber pillars were placed in regular order, 
 and it had been intended to build brick 
 partitions; but as no one seemed to care 
 to occupy the cellars, this had never been 
 
FACTS. 205 
 
 done. The floor was extremely damp, and 
 the whole appearance of the place repulsive. 
 Snails, toads, and slimy reptiles crawled 
 about, and this under the very stage above, 
 upon which music, song, and dance were 
 wont to enliven the gay hearts of the 
 audiences. 
 
 One great obstacle to the idea of blowing 
 up the place was the height of these timber 
 posts, which was full eighteen feet, so that 
 the roof of the vault was high over head, 
 and any explosives, to produce the full 
 effect, would have to be piled up on casks 
 or stands. Then the hall was larger than 
 they had supposed, and it was apparent that 
 the coming council would occupy but a 
 portion of it, and perhaps change that 
 portion now and then, so that it would 
 be uncertain where to place the nitro- 
 glycerine. 
 
 The idea, looked at from a distance and 
 in the abstract, seemed feasible enough ; but 
 when they came to face the physical difficul- 
 
206 WOELD'S END. 
 
 ties, it was found to be hard of realisation. 
 There was the danger of getting the explo- 
 sives into the place, the danger of detec- 
 tion, and, finally, the chance of an accident 
 hoisting the engineer with his own petard, 
 especially at that time of the year when 
 nitro-glycerine was notoriously dangerous 
 on account of the crystals which cold 
 formed upon its surface, and the least jar 
 or shake was sufficient to cause an explosion. 
 Obviously, the plan was a cumbrous one, 
 and without hesitation it was abandoned. 
 
 But the main idea, that of getting rid 
 of the claimants at one blow, was not 
 abandoned ; it grew and grew, and occu- 
 pied their minds day and night. At last 
 the thought of transferring the Guy Fawkes 
 expedient from the land to the ocean, which, 
 once the deed was successfully accomplished, 
 would tell no tale, occurred to them. 
 
 The claimants must come over on ship- 
 board, if only they could be got into one 
 or even two ships ; and if these vessels sank 
 
FACTS. 207 
 
 upon tlie voyage suddenly without a warn- 
 ing ! This was certainly much safer for 
 the conspirators, as no trace would be left, 
 and it w^as surer of success, because in the 
 hall some of the victims might escape 
 — at sea they could scarcely do so. They 
 ran over in their minds the various methods 
 of scuttling ships which have been invented 
 from time to time. 
 
 There was the good old simple plan of 
 boring holes in the bottom with augurs. 
 There was the devilish coal-shell. A box 
 painted to resemble coal, but really con- 
 taining powder, was thrown among the 
 coal, and when placed in the furnace blew 
 up the boiler, and destroyed the ship. 
 There was the ship-rat — a contrivance by 
 which the very motion of the vessel caused 
 an augur in a box to bore its way through, 
 and so cause a leak. Some benevolent 
 socialists, anxious for the welfare of man, 
 had also promulgated a notion of exploding 
 nitro-glycerine by clockwork, arranged to 
 
208 WOKLD'S END. 
 
 go SO long, and set to act just as the vessel 
 was farthest from land. 
 
 But all these seemed to Marese and 
 Theodore clumsy, risky, and, what was 
 worse, uncertain of operation. It was 
 reserved for Marese to suggest the deadliest 
 of all destructive engines, and he arrived 
 at its conception in this way. He had, as 
 it were, a double mind. He was liable to 
 flashes of inspiration — such as it was — 
 to sudden ideas which shot through him 
 without endeavour. He had also the power 
 of concentrating his thoughts, and bringing 
 the regular forms of logic to his assistance. 
 But this latter method he could only 
 practise with the aid of pen and ink ; and 
 it was his constant habit, whenever con- 
 templating an important step, such as a 
 coup upon the Exchange, to write out his 
 plans in a regular sequence, just as he 
 wished them to take place. 
 
 This written guide he corrected and 
 enlarged until it seemed beyond any further 
 
FACTS. 209 
 
 improvement -, and then shutting his eyes 
 to all consequences, resolutely avoiding 
 those secret promptings which suggest that 
 something has been left undone, he was 
 accustomed to rush at the matter in hand, 
 and dispose of it with bold, unhesitating 
 strokes. This method certainly had its 
 advantaores, but it had also the disadvantagce 
 that if by any accident his notes fell into 
 other hands, he was lost. 
 
 Nevertheless, after thinking and think- 
 ing in vain over this great problem, and 
 failing of any very brilliant flash of intelli- 
 gence, Marese at last resorted to his favourite 
 system, and sought the solution by the aid 
 of pen and ink. First he wrote at the top 
 of his rough draft — 
 
 " What is it that I desire ? Define it. 
 Definition : to destroy the claimants. Who 
 are the claimants ? A body of men. How 
 is a body of men to be destroyed ? In the 
 same way as a single person. How is man 
 destroyed? By the knife, by bullets, by 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
210 WOELD'S END. 
 
 explosives, by garotting, by fire, by water, 
 by poison, narcotics." 
 
 Sucli were bis rongh premises. Then he 
 laid the pen down and thought. Why not 
 set the vessels these men were coming over 
 in on fire ? That at first seemed to him a 
 most feasible plan, fiir superior to the un- 
 certain action of explosives. It required 
 some arrangement, which he felt confident 
 the scientific knovvledge of Theodore could 
 easily supply, to cause the flames to break 
 out at the proper moment. 
 
 He began to grow enraptured with it. 
 It seemed so easy and sure. Then, pic- 
 turing in his mind the vessel sinking, the 
 thouofht occurred to him that if the risk 
 was to be run, something might as well be 
 got out of it. Why not put a cargo on 
 board insured far beyond its value, and so 
 kiU two birds with one stone ? 
 
 At one blow to destroy his enemies and 
 fill his own pockets was superb triumph ! 
 He called Theodore and explained the idea 
 
FACTS. 211 
 
 to him. Theodore was struck with it — 
 especially with the notion of making a 
 profit out of the risk. He was, however, 
 considerably opposed to the insurance dodge, 
 on the ground that it had been tried so 
 often, and people had got so keen that it 
 was ten to one if some suspicion did not 
 arise, especially when it was seen what an 
 object it would be to Marese to secure 
 the destruction of the passengers. Some 
 other plan must be adopted. Suppose, for 
 instance, they took Marese's yacht and 
 followed the vessel, and after its partial 
 destruction, if they could secure only partial 
 destruction, put in a claim for salvage 
 To do this they must encounter, serious 
 difficulties, but it would be far less risky. 
 
 Marese wished to know what substances 
 they could employ to produce a fire which 
 could not be extinguished without some 
 special chemical composition. Theodore 
 produced a series of manuscript volumes 
 containing the notes which he had accumu- 
 
 14—2 
 
212 WOELD'S END. 
 
 lated during his long and curious studies. 
 He turned them over one by one, ex- 
 tracting such information as appeared 
 applicable to their purpose, while Marese, 
 waiting for his friend's reply, amused him- 
 self by reading pieces here and there. It 
 was while thus employed that the devilish 
 means by which their end could be obtained 
 occurred to him. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 Ll 
 
 E happened to light on a volume of 
 notes made upon the remarkable 
 properties of gases. They began 
 with a description of those curious caves 
 and even meadows abroad wherein no animal 
 can live, and the place is strewn with the 
 bones of birds and beasts who have incau- 
 tiously entered the infected circle. This 
 effect was proved to proceed from a vapour 
 which rose up from the earth, and was no 
 sooner breathed than it produced asphyxia- 
 tion. Animals who inhaled it fell as if 
 shot, so sudden was the action. 
 
 Gases as deleterious were often generated 
 in wells, caves, and confined places, such as 
 the huge tuns or casks used by brewers to 
 keep their beer in, and which had often 
 
2U WOKLD'S END. 
 
 proved fatal to the men who attempted to 
 scour them out. 
 
 Theodore believed that the cold shiver 
 which some persons affected to feel upon 
 entering a churchyard and passing over the 
 graves of the dead, was caused by the pre- 
 sence of a gas in small quantities, evolved 
 from the decaying remains beneath the feet. 
 Then there w ere gases which upon inhalation 
 caused a profound slumber; others which 
 had precisely an opposite result, and made 
 the patient lively and brisk ; and others 
 which rendered the person who took them 
 perfectly insensible to surgical operations. 
 
 Marese, a man who had never paid the 
 least regard to science, was deeply struck 
 with these facts, with which the veriest tyro 
 in chemistry is well acquainted. But he 
 did what no tyro or even advanced student 
 would perhaps have done — he applied his 
 discovery — for so it was to him — to his own 
 circumstances. 
 
 There are, says Bacon, three modes of 
 
FACTS. 216 
 
 reading — one to pass away an idle hour, 
 one to acquire a knowledge of a subject, and 
 the third and the most advantageous method 
 is always to keep your own ends in view, 
 and to apply everything to your object. 
 
 In these gases Marese found his deside- 
 ratum. His engine of destruction burst 
 upon his mind, as it were, complete in a 
 moment. Some such poisonous gas should 
 be shipped on board these vessels, closely 
 confined in a box or other receptacle, and at 
 the proper moment liberated, to spread 
 throughout the steamer a subtle vapour 
 which no man could see coming, and against 
 w4iich strength, skill, and discipline would 
 be perfectly powerless. 
 
 Theodore, looking up, saw a change upon 
 Marese's countenance, and immediately knew 
 that something had occurred to him. The 
 heir w^as pale as death ; his own conception, 
 so ghastly and treacherous, filled him with 
 a nameless horror at the same moment that 
 he never hesitated in his purpose. 
 
216 WOELD'S END. 
 
 After awhile he took up a pen and added 
 to his already written premises the conclusion 
 — his idea in a few brief sentences — and 
 handed it to Theodore. He left it to 
 Theodore to select the gas, and to arrange 
 the mechanical details. He had sown the 
 seed, the other must patiently tend it. 
 And the other did patiently tend it; and 
 this is what it grew to. 
 
 The name of the gas which Theodore at 
 last, after much thought, fixed upon shall 
 not be here disclosed ; for although it is well- 
 known to chemists, and any one who can 
 read could easily find it, there is no knowing 
 what imitations might not spring up if they 
 were aware of the means being so ready at 
 hand. 
 
 Though suicide is such a simple and 
 obvious expedient in difficulties, yet there 
 are scores who do not commit it because 
 they never think of it. If some kind friend 
 suggested the pistol or the knife they would 
 at once employ it. 
 
FACTS. 217 
 
 Gas had one property which rendered it 
 peculiarly fitted for the purpose in view. 
 Being elastic, it could be compressed to a 
 great extent, and thus an immense volume 
 might be contained in a small compass. 
 Therefore the case or receptacle to hold 
 the vapour poison need not be of large 
 dimensions ; and this was a matter of some 
 importance. 
 
 The gas chosen was not in any way ex- 
 plosive ; on the contrary, it had the pro- 
 perty of extinguishing any light which was 
 placed in it — there was thus no danger of 
 any accidental circumstance causing an ex- 
 plosion at an awkward moment. It was 
 absolutely safe — the operator ran no risk, 
 provided always that he did not inhale the 
 vapour. 
 
 Theodore sketched out a case about three 
 feet square, which was to be formed of an 
 outer box of deal, and an inner skin of thin 
 iron. Into this case, which would be tolerably 
 strong, he proposed to pump a vast volume 
 
218 WORLD'S END. 
 
 of gas, taking care that the pressure should 
 not exceed the power of the box to with- 
 stand. The aperture through which it had 
 been pumped was then to be hermetically 
 sealed with molten lead. 
 
 The greatest difficulty was to provide for 
 the escape of the devilish vapour at the 
 proper moment ; and this caused the projec- 
 tors much reflection. Clockwork was ob- 
 jectionable ; it was liable to injury from jars 
 and shakes. Cases of this character, which 
 looked strong and substantial, and would be 
 placed in the hold, would be certain to re- 
 ceive the roughest of usage. 
 
 At one time he conceived the idea of re- 
 lying upon the cupidity of the seamen. It 
 was suspected that many of the accidents 
 which had taken place at sea, and caused the 
 destruction of hundreds by fire, had arisen 
 through dishonest seamen or ewjjloyes on 
 board going at night with a candle into the 
 compartment where valuable goods were 
 stowed, and dropping sparks. 
 
FACTS. 219 
 
 Why not utilise tliis propensity ? Mark 
 the case " watches," "jewellery/' or "bul- 
 lion," cause it to be surrounded with a 
 certain amount of mystery and precaution 
 enough to engender suspicion ; and leave the 
 rest to the chisel and drill of the would-be 
 thief. 
 
 But this, though clever, was too uncertain. 
 Another idea which occurred to him was 
 to have a wooden case only, but a strong 
 one, and to confine in a small hole prepared 
 for the purpose one of the boring insects, 
 which in a certain time would be sure to 
 eat its way through and leave an aperture. 
 
 This, too, was more ingenious than prac- 
 ticable. He was delayed for a time. 
 Accident solved the difficulty. Passing 
 through the streets, he was stopped by a 
 crowd which had collected around a quack 
 doctor. 
 
 " See," cried the vendor of patent vege- 
 table pills, "here is the horrid stuff the 
 allopathists, the doctors and physicians sell 
 
220 WORLD'S END. 
 
 to you at high prices. Here is a common 
 drug used by them in this phial. I will 
 pour some of the liquid upon the hard 
 stone pavement — ^just see how it acts upon 
 the granite, and then guess how your 
 wretched stomachs must be abused.'^ 
 
 He poured it on the stone — the crowd 
 pressed forward, and saw it eat a hole. 
 "Aquafortis," thought Theodore, and the 
 idea was his — aquafortis was the agent he 
 wanted. 
 
 He passed on, and left the crowd 
 thoroughly convinced of the tricks played 
 by the medical faculty, and purchasing 
 largely of the vegetable pills. Theodore 
 had found a substance which would eat 
 through his iron and wood cases, and leave an 
 aperture — a substance, too, whose action was 
 equal, and could be regulated to a sufficiently 
 accurate extent. 
 
 Upon reflection, however, and after 
 making several experiments, he did not 
 employ ordinary aquafortis, but another 
 
FACTS. 221 
 
 acid eqally powerful, and which was still 
 more regular in its action. He tried the 
 experiment time after time^ till at last he 
 obtained the proper strength, and fixed the 
 requisite amount of acid to eat through a 
 given thickness of iron and wood in a cer- 
 tain time. He repeated the experiment 
 till he was absolutely certain of the result. 
 
 The plan had now grown delightfully 
 clear and well-defined — the infernal machine 
 became of the simplest construction. All 
 that had to be done was to place the acid 
 in the case confined in a small and very 
 thin copper vessel (lined with an enamel to 
 resist it), which was to be screwed to one 
 side of the case, then pump the gas in, 
 hermetically seal it, heave the whole thing 
 on board the steamer, and leave it to work 
 its way. Delightfully simple ! 
 
 He called Marese to look over his draw- 
 ings, and to witness his experiments with 
 the acid. Marese was enchanted ; his con- 
 fidence in Theodore's scientific resources 
 
222 WORLD'S END. 
 
 was confirmed. There was, however, one 
 question he asked — Was the gas so strong 
 and so poisonous that the small quantity 
 confined in a case three feet square would 
 destroy a whole ship's company ? Would 
 not the gas escape, rise up, and dissipate 
 itself through the port-holes, up the hatch- 
 ways, and be further weakened by the 
 breezes that blew and caused draught in 
 various places between decks ? These ocean 
 steamers were very roomy. 
 
 Theodore was delighted to have an op- 
 portunity of explaining the properties and 
 nature of the vapour to his friend. The 
 peculiarity of this gas was that, although 
 an invisible fluid, it was extremely heavy 
 — it was heavier far than atmospheric air. 
 He easily proved that a gas might be 
 heavier than air by a well-known experiment 
 with a vapour (not the one to be used in 
 this case) which he poured out of a glass 
 phial over a candle. The invisible gas 
 descended and extinguished the candle. 
 
 
FACTS. 223 
 
 There was not the slightest chance of the 
 poison- vapour escaping quickly through 
 ports or up hatchways. It would, as it 
 were, cling to the vessel. The pressure 
 inside the case w^ouJd cause it to issue 
 rapidly from the aperture eaten out by 
 the acid. It would then diffuse itself 
 laterally, and gradually penetrate into every 
 crevice and corner of the ship. The effect 
 would be that one by one every person on 
 board would inhale it, and in an instant, 
 let the quantity breathed be never so small, 
 down he would drop, or grow rigid as he 
 sat — unconscious was the word Theodore 
 nsed as an euphuism for death. He did not 
 mention another effect it would have, lest 
 the horror of it should cause even Marese 
 to falter. 
 
 Theodore traced out the probable course 
 of events on board the flited vessel. First, 
 the persons working or living in the cabins 
 and places nearest the case would feel the 
 effect and succumb. Then there would be 
 
224 WORLD'S END. 
 
 alarm and excitement — others would rusli 
 to the spot, and they would immediately 
 fall, just as the birds and beast did who 
 entered those fatal caves abroad. One man 
 on board, perhaps, might detect the cause 
 — the surgeon, or any doctor who chanced 
 to be a passenger — and might cry out to 
 man the boats and escape ; but who, in the 
 hurry and excitement, would heed him ? — 
 he would not have time to escape himself, 
 much less to explain the danger to others. 
 It was doubtful whether even so much as 
 a signal of distress would be hoisted. The 
 crew, the oflBcers, the passengers would be 
 so completely puzzled, so utterly at their 
 wit's end, that no course would suggest 
 itself to them before it was too late. 
 
 In this respect the gas had an immense ad- 
 vantage over any apparatus which would set 
 the ship on fire. Let the fire be never so 
 rapid, one boat at least might get away, and 
 on that boat the very person whom it was 
 most desirable should seek the floor of the 
 
FACTS. 225 
 
 ocean. Moreover, fire could be seen from a 
 vast distance, and might attract attention 
 from other vessels, who by day would ob- 
 serve the smoke, and by night the glare of 
 the flames. 
 
 But in this case probably not so much as 
 a flag would be hoisted. One by one the 
 • seamen and passengers, the captain and 
 officers, would succumb to the invisible 
 vapour, first becoming weak and helpless, 
 and next " unconscious." The steersman 
 would fall at the wheel. The engineer 
 would drop at his engine ; the stoker as he 
 shovelled up the coal ; the passenger would 
 lie in his berth. And the steamer, so long 
 as the fuel in the furnace lasted, would 
 pursue her way unguided over the waves; 
 finally, after a few hours, to float a derelict 
 at the mercy of the wind. 
 
 There was a completeness, a finish, an 
 elaboration of detail about this scheme 
 which fascinated the conspirators. It was 
 so novel, daring, and yet safe, it enchanted 
 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
226 WORLD'S END. 
 
 them. When at last the great horror was 
 discovered, what risk would there be ? No- 
 thing on board would excite suspicion. The 
 gas had actually no smell; besides, long 
 before anything was discovered, it would 
 have dissipated itself. 
 
 Even if the whole of the cargo was 
 examined, the case itself would offer no 
 handle to an inquirer. The powerful acid 
 would have eaten its way out, and nothing 
 would be left but a small empty case with a 
 hole in it. Nothing need show who con- 
 signed the case. Better still : Marese's 
 yacht would follow the doomed steamer, 
 keeping close on pretence of the safety of 
 having company in a voyage across the 
 Atlantic. 
 
 They would easily know when the desired 
 result was obtained by the view of the 
 steamer rolling helplessly in the trough of 
 the waves. By the time that was the case 
 some hours would have elapsed after the 
 catastrophe, and various pretences could be 
 
FACTS. 237 
 
 arranged to avoid immediately proceeding 
 on board — especially as from a distance no- 
 thing would look the matter — and by then 
 the poisonous vapour would have dissipated 
 itself, or so mixed with the air as to have 
 lost its fatal power. They would then take 
 charge of the vessel and bring it into port, 
 and claini the salvage. 
 
 If they contrived to select a vessel which 
 carried a valuable cargo, that salvage money 
 would be something extremely large in 
 amount, added to the value of the steamer 
 itself. They might manoeuvre to get such 
 a cargo stored. This would be far superior 
 to the clumsy dodge of sinking the ship and 
 claiming the insurance money. 
 
 As to getting the case on board, it was as 
 eas}' as could be. Having proceeded to New 
 York in Marese's yachfc, taking with them 
 the necessary apparatus for producing the 
 gas (which was very simple), and pumping 
 it into the case, they could ascertain the 
 hour of the steamer's departure, fill the case, 
 
 15 — 2 
 
228 WORLD'S END. 
 
 regulate the acid for say four, or perhaps 
 three days, and send it on board only a little 
 while before she started. They would then, 
 on board the yacht, proceed to sea on a cruise 
 and keep the steamer in sight. 
 
 Delightfully simple ! Perfectly complete 
 and scientific in every detail ! 
 
 Marese once again asked if the gas was 
 really so powerful? Theodore referred to 
 his note-books, and showed him an extract 
 from a newspaper not of so very remote a 
 date, wherein it was stated that at a con- 
 ference of the various leading European 
 Powers it had been resolved not to employ 
 certain implements in warfare, such as ex- 
 plosive shells or bullets under a certain size, 
 and poisonous gases or vapours which could 
 be thrown into a fortress or town in shells. 
 Marese was convinced, and regarded the 
 engine as perfect. 
 
 Thus did two men deliberately plan out 
 the destruction of several hundreds of their 
 fellow-beings without one single thought or 
 
FACTS. 229 
 
 reflection upon the misery and suffering 
 they would cause, or upon the intrinsic 
 villany of the act. 
 
 Well was it suggested by a French 
 thinker that certain natures are incapable of 
 feeling, incapable of remorse so long as they 
 remain " faithful to the logic of their 
 type" — i.e., faithful to their own selfish in- 
 terests and passions. 
 
CHAPTER XY. 
 
 ITH his own hands Theodore con- 
 structed the infernal machine and 
 prepared the materials for gene- 
 rating the deadly vapour at the shortest 
 notice. This, the first part of the scheme, 
 having been settled, there remained two 
 great difficulties to overcome. The first was 
 to get the claimants on board one vessel — 
 travelling in a body; and the second was 
 to secure their passage by a steauier carry- 
 ing a valuable cargo, so as to increase the 
 gain of salvage money to the utmost. 
 
 It was not easy to manage the first 
 matter ; the latter Marese thought he saw 
 his way through. It happened just then 
 that the payment of the war indemnity to 
 Germany caused a great drain of gold from 
 
FACTS. 231 
 
 tliis coantry; the value of the precious metals 
 consequently rose, and the imports increased 
 to meet the demand. Gold and silver came 
 in large quantities from New York, both in 
 coin and bullion — especially silver. 
 
 Marese intended to take advantage of 
 this fact. By means of certain Stock 
 Exchange operations, with which he was 
 perfectly familiar, having employed them 
 previously on several occasions, he arranged 
 that a very large amount of bullion should 
 be transmitted to London from New York 
 by the splendid steamer Lucca, due to start 
 on December 3rd. 
 
 It must be understood that this bullion 
 was not to be despatched to Marese, and 
 that he did not appear in the transaction as 
 having any direct connection with it. He 
 had, in fact, arranged to lose a small sum 
 of money, in order to render the importation 
 of bullion particularly profitable in the week 
 ending December 17th — profitable not to 
 him, but to those speculators who deal in 
 
232 WORLD'S END. 
 
 precious metal just as others do in corn 
 or calico. Marese omitted no precaution, 
 spared no pains, and used the whole of his 
 natural and acquired cunning to render this 
 operation a certainty. 
 
 The next thing was to tempt the claimants 
 to travel by the steamer Lucca. After 
 considerable hesitation, Marese at last 
 determined to open negotiations with the 
 leading men amongst them. He did not 
 do this in his own person, but through 
 his solicitors. Tt was represented to the 
 managers of the Baskette and Sibbold Lodges 
 that really their claims and the interests of 
 the heir — i.e.^ Marese — were not so divergent 
 as had been supposed. The heir was quite 
 as much excluded from the enjoyment of 
 the property as they were, and finding the 
 building societies determined, by every 
 means in their power, to put off the day 
 when they must yield up possession, he 
 wished to make common cause against 
 these companies. 
 
PACTS. 233 
 
 Nor was this statement altogether ficti- 
 tious. The idea of strengthening the liands 
 of the claimants, and making common cause 
 with them, had often occurred to Marese, for 
 the sole purpose of taking the weapons of 
 the companies out of their hands, as Aure- 
 lian had advised. 
 
 No sooner was this overture on the part 
 of the heir received in America than both 
 Lodges at once responded, and without a 
 moment's hesitation fell into the snare laid 
 for them. To us, who are acquainted with 
 the infamous designs of Marese, such con- 
 duct seems almost senile; but it must be 
 remembered that these men on the other 
 side of the Atlantic had not the slio:htest 
 suspicion of the deadly engine which had 
 been preparing. 
 
 To some extent the sudden overture of 
 the heir caused a cessation of hostilities 
 between the two Lodges, and when Marese's 
 second offer arrived they held a species of 
 jubilee. This offer was nothing less than 
 
234 WOELD'S END. 
 
 to convey the whole of the claimants at his 
 own expense, and added that he had already 
 notified to the owners of the Lucca that he 
 might require the entire passage accommo- 
 dation, or nearly, of that vessel. To the 
 Americans this came as an immense boon. 
 There were many of them comparatively 
 poor men, to whom the cost of the voyage 
 was a serious matter, and who had already 
 begun to hesitate at the prospect before 
 them. 
 
 The diabolical foresight of Marese and 
 Theodore had guessed as much. They said 
 to each other, " Half the claimants will not 
 come — only those who are tolerably well 
 off. Then what will be the use of our 
 scheme ? We shall destroy only a few, and 
 from the remaining individuals a new crop 
 ^vill spring up to vex us. We must get 
 them all — all !" 
 
 This offer was accepted with 2ifanfaronnade 
 of gratitude. It had one inestimable ad- 
 vantage — it secured the passage of the 
 
FACTS. 235 
 
 claimants by tlie vessel Marese had chosen. 
 The enthusiasm on the other side of the 
 Atlantic was raised to its highest pitch 
 when the heir announced his intention of 
 coming to New York in his yacht, to see 
 that the arrangements for his friends were 
 properly carried out. 
 
 Preparations were at once made to give 
 him an ovation. The authorities of New 
 York city gave orders to do him honour. 
 The papers published biographies of " this 
 distinguished man, upon whom the eyes 
 of all the world were fixed," and who had 
 lately "covered himself with glory by dis- 
 playing a grand generosity towards the 
 offshoots of the parent stem." 
 
 It often happens that in America the 
 descendants of particular families are 
 gathered in and around certain districts, 
 where they form the main part of the 
 population. This was the case with tlie 
 Baskettes and Sibbolds. The Baskettes 
 chiefly inhabited Caben, a small township 
 
236 WORLD'S END. 
 
 west of Philadelphia, and the Sibbolds 
 were mostly to be found at Tandanap, 
 near the shores of Lake Michigan. Num- 
 bers of both tribes of course were scattered 
 over the whole country, but these were the 
 strongholds. To suit both parties, and to 
 tend to remove the jealousies which had so 
 long raged, it was arranged that all should 
 meet at Imola, a place about midway and 
 within a hundred and twenty miles of 
 New York, about a week previous to the 
 embarkation. 
 
 At Imola (named after a Continental 
 town) there resided perhaps the wealthiest 
 member of the Baskette and Sibbold tribes, 
 for he could claim relationship with both — 
 he offered hospitality to them all; and 
 in return it was agreed that this Eeginald 
 Bunker Sibbold Baskette, Esq., should be 
 instituted the leader or president of the 
 expedition. After the mobilization of the 
 forces at Imola, the army was to move on 
 New York on the 2nd December, and 
 
FACTS. 237 
 
 embark the same eveninor on board the 
 Lucca steamship. 
 
 The whole scheme was now complete, 
 and extremely promising it looked ; every- 
 thing had turned out well. Marese had 
 ascertained by secret inquiries that the 
 bullion had been ordered, and that the 
 owners of the Lucca had contracted, under 
 a heavy bond, to deliver it at a certain 
 date. The Lodges had, for a time at 
 least, fused their differences. The eno-ine 
 of destruction was finished, together with 
 a duplicate in case of accident. How ex- 
 tremely simple it looked ! Nothing in the 
 world but a strong deal box, apparently 
 nailed together in the usual manner, about 
 a yard square, or a little less. Just such a 
 box as a seaman or passenger, if it chanced 
 to lie about, would choose to sit down on 
 and smoke a pipe. The rough deal planks 
 of which it was made were not even 
 planed smooth — simply a strong packing- 
 case. The conspirators congratulated them- 
 
238 WORLD'S END. 
 
 selves upon the approaching execution of 
 their schemes, and the success which seemed 
 certain to attend them. 
 
 But now Theodore discovered a serious 
 oversight. Eeading through Aurelian's 
 papers a second time, he came upon that 
 passage which detailed all that could be 
 learnt of the descendants of Arthur Sib- 
 bold. This Arthur, Aurelian wrote, or his 
 descendants, was the most dangerous of all. 
 He was the man who ought to have suc- 
 ceeded to the fcirtn which James Sibbold 
 took possession of. James, or James's sons, 
 had not the slightest right to dispose of 
 the farm to Sternhold Baskette; they were 
 selling what did not belong to them. 
 Arthur was of course dead, but Arthur's 
 heirs still lived; and then followed the 
 address and further particulars. 
 
 These heirs were at present quiet; but 
 if they discovei^ed the register of Arthur's 
 marriage, Aurelian could not see what was 
 to prevent them from putting in a claim 
 
FACTS. 239 
 
 far superior eitlier to ]\Iarese's or to tliat of 
 any other person. Even if they could not 
 get possession, the Courts would certainly 
 order an immense sum to be paid to them 
 as compensation ; and Aurelian thought 
 himself that nothing in the world could 
 prevent them taking the property which 
 stood on the site of the farm, if not the 
 Swamp. The property on the site of the 
 farm, he thought, must go. 
 
 " Now," said Theodore, '' what is the use 
 of destroying the American claimants en 
 masse if this even greater danger is to be 
 allowed to remain close at home, within 
 easy reach of the estate, ready at any 
 moment to burst upon us and render 
 nugatory all our risk and labour ?" 
 
 Marese was thunderstruck. For a time 
 it seemed that their enemies were hydra- 
 headed — no sooner was one head cut off 
 than three sprouted up in the place. But 
 the man was not one to be daunted. This 
 also must be done, he said. They had not 
 
240 WOELD'S END. 
 
 mucli time now to lose. It was already the 
 middle of September, and a fortnight must 
 he reckoned for the passage of the yacht 
 to New York. They spent anxious days 
 and nights considering a variety of plans. 
 There is not time to unravel the strange 
 mazes of the mind and trace the genesis 
 of the idea which at last suggested itself 
 to Theodore. It was only one degree less 
 ingenious, and if anything still more 
 horrible, than the infernal machine of 
 Marese. 
 
 Theodore still continued the asylum at 
 Stirmingham. It was an important source 
 of income, in fact. In that asylum there 
 were confined lunatics of all degrees of 
 insanity, most of them having wealthy 
 friends, and some the representatives of 
 large properties. Among these was one 
 more remarkable than the rest. He was 
 the representative of a long line of lunatics, 
 or semi-lunatics. Popular tradition accused 
 a progenitor living two centuries before of 
 
FACTS. 241 
 
 a crime too dark to be mentioned, and be- 
 lieved that the lunacy of his descendants 
 was a special punishment from heaven. 
 This particular individual had seemed 
 tolerably sane till he was permitted to 
 marry — a cruel thing. He then rapidly 
 developed his inherited tendencies, living as 
 a married man, left more free from restraint 
 by friends and others. 
 
 Thousrh the owner of broad acres and 
 lovely woodlands, he delighted in the society 
 of tinkers, and was himself a clever hand 
 at mending pots and kettles. He had such 
 a fancy for tinkering that he actually 
 promenaded the country for miles in com- 
 pany with gipsies, calling at the farmhouses 
 — on his own tenants — asking for things to 
 mend. 
 
 He was also absurdly fond of dogs, and 
 filled the house with them — especially the 
 large mastiff breed, of which he was par- 
 ticularly enraptured, till no one could 
 approach it, and his poor wife was frightened 
 
 VOL. I. 16 
 
242 WORLD'S END. 
 
 out of her senses. Tinkering, fondling 
 these dogs, and playing the tin whistle 
 occupied his time. His money he scattered 
 far and wide among the gipsies, pedlars, 
 and tinkers, and gave enormous sums for 
 the pure-bred mastiffs. 
 
 The countenance of the man expressed 
 the most intense melancholy — that hopeless 
 incurable vacancy of look which is seen on 
 the features of some monkeys while in cap- 
 tivity. His face, and the shape of his head, 
 in fact, much resembled a monkey's ; and 
 the ears protruding from the side of the 
 skull, very large and ill-formed, completed 
 the resemblance. He had a favourite resort 
 in one of the woods surrounding the family 
 mansion. Through this wood there ran a 
 stream, and a tree had fallen across it, 
 making a natural bridge. 
 
 On this tree, over the stream, he would 
 perch himself astride, his feet nearly in the 
 •water, and play for hours upon the tin 
 •whistle, while his troop of dogs disported 
 
FACTS. 243 
 
 in the woods around. He liad a wonderful 
 instinct of music, and really played in a 
 marvellous manner upon this simple instru- 
 ment, exhibiting skill even in the choice of 
 the whistle — for it is difficult to find one 
 that has a mellow tone. 
 
 The spectacle of this being, sitting on 
 the tree trunk in the gloom of the woods, his 
 long legs danghng down to the water, with 
 his melancholy baboon face, performing 
 extraordinary fantasias upon a tin whistle, 
 could hardly be matched. 
 
 But he was as cunning as he was mad. 
 Probably from his companions, the gipsies, 
 he had learnt that his ancestors had all 
 been confined in the madhouse. He had 
 sufficient sense to foresee that the moment 
 a son was born to his wife he would himself 
 be confined. But, with the inherent in- 
 sanity of his nature, he thought that by 
 killing the wife or the son he should escape 
 this danger. 
 
 So soon as ever the wretched wife's con- 
 
 IG— 2 
 
244, AVOELD'S END. 
 
 finement approached he slew her — and slew 
 her in true fantastic fashion. With his 
 tinker's hammer he drove a nail into her 
 head as she slept. He fled from the place, 
 but was captured ; and tliat was the last 
 time Odo Lechester used his tinker's ham- 
 mer for some time to come. The dreadful 
 deed, the sight of blood, had developed in 
 him the homicidal tendency — he tried hard 
 to stab his captors. In Aurelian's asylum 
 at Stirmingham he desperately wounded a 
 warder. 
 
 This was the being Theodore selected 
 for his purpose. The man had made many 
 violent attempts to escape — he was like a 
 wild beast in a cage, pacing to and fro. 
 
 Theodore went down to Stirmingham to 
 his private residence, which adjoined the 
 asylum, to prepare his tool for the deed. It 
 was easy for him, as a physician and the 
 owner of the establishment, to have full and 
 private access to Odo Lechester. He had a 
 fortnight for his task. In that time he sue- 
 
FACTS. 245 
 
 ceeded in impressing upon Odo's mind that 
 the persons whose name and address he gav^e 
 him were those who were responsible for his 
 confinement. 
 
 It was not his (Theodore's) fault that he 
 was confined — it was the fault of these per- 
 sons, and upon them the punishment should 
 fall. The man imbibed the idea thoroughly : 
 he brooded over revenge if ever he should 
 get free. His one-sided mind became ab- 
 sorbed in two great overmastering passions 
 — to revenge his captivity, and to recover 
 his favourite dogs. 
 
 Theodore assured him that if ever these 
 persons were out of the way he would be at 
 once reinstalled in his position, and might 
 wander at his sweet will, tinkering and 
 playing his whistle. 
 
 Theodore's plan was to let this irrespon- 
 sible murderer out at large upon the world. 
 The obnoxious persons would be removed, 
 and no one could be punished. He arranged 
 for the escape of Odo Lechester at about the 
 
246 WOELD'S END. 
 
 date he and Marese would start for New 
 York. 
 
 Their plans were now complete. Theo- 
 dore, in order to obtain the lunatic's good- 
 will, had restored to him his whistle ; and 
 he roamed to and fro in the court of the 
 asylum, examining the high walls, stone by 
 stone, for a crevice of escape, while his rapid 
 fingers manipulated interminable airs of the^ 
 
 merriest kind. 
 
 ***** 
 
 "When the engineer approached the ancient 
 Swamp with his level and theodolite, and 
 was followed by an army of workmen in 
 short corduroys and slops, who cleared away 
 the rushes and bull-polls, swept off the 
 willow-beds and watercress, drove the water- 
 fowl away and plucked up the reeds and: 
 sedges, then the water-rat knew that his 
 time was come. The teeth that had nibbled 
 away at the willow-tree root till it fell and 
 blocked up the stream, would nibble no 
 more. The nimble feet and black eyes 
 
FACTS. 247 
 
 would be seen no more hiding among the 
 flags, or plunging out of sight into the water 
 as a footstep was heard. 
 
 The lake which the water-rat had made, 
 with its islands and its cotters, was in its 
 way useful, and not altogether despicable. 
 The poor basket-makers, humble as they 
 were, made good and useful baskets, mended 
 pots and pans, split good clothes-pegs, and 
 injured no man till Sibbold fired that fatal 
 shot. 
 
 From that hour a curse seemed to hang- 
 over the place. A vast city, full of seething 
 human life, had taken the place of the 
 swamp and the bullrushes ; the hearths of 
 the poor cotters were gone, and huge hotels, 
 club-houses, theatres, were there instead. 
 Progress and development — yes ; but with 
 development came crime. 
 
 Under that overgrown city there extended 
 a system of tunnels, sewers — some large 
 enough to drive a horse and cart down thera^ 
 others hardly large enough to admit the 
 
"248 WORLD'S E]N^D. 
 
 liand. But they extended everywhere. 
 Under the busy street, under the quiet office 
 where the only sound was the scratching of 
 the pen, or the buzz of a fly " in th' pane ;" 
 under the gay theatre and the gossiping 
 club-house there was not a spot that was 
 not undermined. 
 
 And in these subterranean catacombs 
 there dwelt a race nearly as numerous as 
 the human hive above, who worked and 
 gnawed in the dark ; they were the domains 
 of the sticcessors of the little furred creatures 
 which nibbled down the ancient willow-tree. 
 The grey sewer-rat worked and multiplied 
 exceedingly beneath this mighty city. The 
 grey rat was worse than the water-rat. 
 
 He had his human prototypes. What 
 were Marese and Theodore but sewer-rats 
 working in secret, in the dark underground, 
 out of sight, whose presence could hardly be 
 detected by a faint occasional scratching or 
 rustle ? 
 
 Beside these there were a numerous com- 
 
FACTS. 249 
 
 pany of lesser men and masculine brutes, 
 and female fiends, burrowing, fighting in the 
 dark places of this mighty city, whose pre- 
 sence was made known at times by faint 
 sounds of shrieking or devilish glee which 
 rose Tip, as it were, from the bowels of the 
 earth. The reign of the harmless water-rat 
 was over. The rule of the sewer-rat was 
 now in full force. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
LOITDOIT: 
 
 •SiVILL, EDWAEDS AND CO., PSINTEES, CHAXDOS STfiEEl. 
 
 COVEKT GAEDEN. 
 
^^1 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 
 
 CO 
 
 
 
 
 •o 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 
 u 
 
 
 
 
 
 C/3 
 
 
 
 
 
 0) 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 <L) 
 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 U 
 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 *? 
 
 <D 
 
 
 
 
 
 Ui 
 
 
 
 
 T 
 
 <-[ 
 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 -M 
 
 
 
 
 
 bjo 
 
 
 
 
 T 
 
 U 
 
 
 
 
 ,y 
 
 <—< 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 
 (— < 
 
 
 
 00 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 a 
 
 JIJ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 
 >. 
 
 •i^ 
 
 
 4> 
 
 
 o 
 
 Ui 
 
 
 C! 
 
 
 -4-> 
 
 o 
 
 
 4-> 
 O 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 .M 
 
 CO 
 
 
 CO 
 
 
 .'^ 
 
 
 u 
 
 
 *+-( 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 • »-( 
 
 o 
 
 rt 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 Oi 
 
 
 O 
 
 hH 
 
 § 
 
 5-r 
 
 o 
 
 
 CO 
 
 CO 
 
 
 13 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^A 
 
 
 
 
 
 <L) 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 O. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CO 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 bx) 
 
 
 
 <u 
 
 
 r^ 
 
 G 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 ■a 
 
 • « 
 
 'a, 
 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 Ui 
 
 rt 
 
 • t-H 
 
 
 C 
 
 +-> \ 
 
 . A^ 
 
 CO 
 
 fl.) 
 
 fc^ 
 
 o 
 
 4-> 
 
 • 1-H 
 
 
 o 
 
 J3 
 
 rt 
 
 \JN) 
 
 J^ 
 
 JO 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 CO 
 
 
 CO 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 u 
 
 
 o 
 
 'O 
 
 :3 
 
 CO 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 ^3 
 
 o 
 
 
 o 
 
 a; 
 r3 
 
 < 
 
 < 
 
 U 
 
 U 
 
 w 
 
 fe 
 
 fe 
 
 
 CO 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • »H 
 
 • w^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 jc 
 
 'U 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 h