Bradley put the purse in his pocket, grasped his left wrist with his right hand, and sat rigidly contemplating the fire.
“She couldn’t live more handy to you than she does,” said Riderhood, “and when I goes home with you (as of course I am a going), I recommend you to clean her out without loss of time. You can marry her, arter you and me have come to a settlement. She’s nice-looking, and I know you can’t be keeping company with no one else, having been so lately disapinted in another quarter.”
Not one other word did Bradley utter all that night. Not once did he change his attitude, or loosen his hold upon his wrist. Rigid before the fire, as if it were a charmed flame that was turning him old, he sat, with the dark lines deepening in his face, its stare becoming more and more haggard, its surface turning whiter and whiter as if it were being overspread with ashes, and the very texture and colour of his hair degenerating.
Not until the late daylight made the window transparent, did this decaying statue move. Then it slowly arose, and sat in the window looking out.
Riderhood had kept his chair all night. In the earlier part of the night he had muttered twice or thrice that it was bitter cold; or that the fire burnt fast, when he got up to mend it; but, as he could elicit from his companion neither sound nor movement, he had afterwards held his peace. He was making some disorderly preparations for coffee, when Bradley came from the window and put on his outer coat and hat.
“Hadn’t us better have a bit o’ breakfast afore we start?” said Riderhood. “It ain’t good to freeze a empty stomach, Master.”
Without a sign to show that he heard, Bradley walked out of the lock-house. Catching up from the table a piece of bread, and taking his bargeman’s bundle under his arm, Riderhood immediately followed him. Bradley turned towards London. Riderhood caught him up, and walked at his side.
The two men trudged on, side by side, in silence, full three miles. Suddenly, Bradley turned to retrace his course. Instantly, Riderhood turned likewise, and they went back side by side.
Bradley reentered the lock-house. So did Riderhood. Bradley sat down in the window. Riderhood warmed himself at the fire. After an hour or more, Bradley abruptly got up again, and again went out, but this time turned the other way. Riderhood was close after him, caught him up in a few paces, and walked at his side.
This time, as before, when he found his attendant not to be shaken off, Bradley suddenly turned back. This time, as before, Riderhood turned back along with him. But, not this time, as before, did they go into the lock-house, for Bradley came to a stand on the snow-covered turf by the lock, looking up the river and down the river. Navigation was impeded by the frost, and the scene was a mere white and yellow desert.
“Come, come, Master,” urged Riderhood, at his side. “This is a dry game. And where’s the good of it? You can’t get rid of me, except by coming to a settlement. I am a going along with you wherever you go.”
Without a word of reply, Bradley passed quickly from him over the wooden bridge on the lock gates. “Why, there’s even less sense in this move than t’other,” said Riderhood, following. “The weir’s there, and you’ll have to come back, you know.”
Without taking the least notice, Bradley leaned his body against a post, in a resting attitude, and there rested with his eyes cast down. “Being brought here,” said Riderhood, gruffly, “I’ll turn it to some use by changing my gates.” With a rattle and a rush of water, he then swung-to the lock gates that were standing open, before opening the others. So, both sets of gates were, for the moment, closed.
“You’d better by far be reasonable, Bradley Headstone, Master,” said Riderhood, passing him, “or I’ll drain you all the dryer for it, when we do settle.—Ah! Would you!”
Bradley had caught him round the body. He seemed to be girdled with an iron ring. They were on the brink of the lock, about midway between the two sets of gates.
“Let go!” said Riderhood, “or I’ll get my knife out and slash you wherever I can cut you. Let go!”
Bradley was drawing to the lock-edge. Riderhood was drawing away from it. It was a strong grapple, and a fierce struggle, arm and leg. Bradley got him round, with his back to the Lock, and still worked him backward.
“Let go!” said Riderhood. “Stop! What are you trying at? You can’t drown Me. Ain’t I told you that the man as has come through drowning can never be drowned? I can’t be drowned.”
“I can be!” returned Bradley, in a desperate, clenched voice. “I am resolved to be. I’ll hold you living, and I’ll hold you dead. Come down!”
Riderhood went over into the smooth pit, backward, and Bradley Headstone upon him. When the two were found, lying under the ooze and scum behind one of the rotting gates, Riderhood’s hold had relaxed, probably in falling, and his eyes were staring upward. But, he was girdled still with Bradley’s iron ring, and the rivets of the iron ring held tight.
XVI
Persons and Things in General
Mr. and Mrs. John Harmon’s first delightful occupation was, to set all matters right that had strayed in any way wrong, or that might, could, would, or should, have strayed in any way wrong, while their name was in abeyance. In tracing out affairs for which John’s fictitious death was to be considered in any way responsible, they used a very broad and free construction; regarding,
