The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 86: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. 88 As he spoke, Morton darted forward with the hope of seizing the fellow; but it would appear as if he had had a remote sus- picion that such might be the termination of the conference, for he eluded the captain, and made his way into the inner room in an instant, closing the door of communication so quickly and so adroitly, that he struck Morton on the face with it, and caused him to recoil a step or two. It was only for a moment, however, that Morton was thus foiled, and darting forward again, he quickly had the door open: but when he entered the room, he saw by the wide open window that such must have been the way by which the fellow had es- caped, and to conclude which way he had gone was a matter of impossibility. he first thought of the captain was to alarm the servants, and endeavor to find the fellow before he left the grounds; but, upon second consideration, he made up his mind to let him go, considering it probable, that now he was disappointed, he should hear of him ‘no more. CHAPTER XVII. THE county magistrates, after being convinced of the inno- cence of Jem the hostler, and having discharged him, in con- seguence of feeling very dissatisfied with the state of the case, and the useless efforts of their own rural police in tracing the mur- derer, bad resolved upon sending a report of the case to the head police-office, London, with a request that they would send down some instruction as to how they had better proceed, and also for some one who was well qualified to act under such emergencies, This application was answered promptly by the chief magistrate sending down an Officer on whom they could rely, and whose reputation for sagacity was great, with orders to act as he should see occasion in the affair. Mr. Samuel Lewis. more familiarly as he was wont to be called at the office, Sam Lewis, was an artful card in his way. Sa- gacity or cunning sat beneath his hat when he had it on, and no raven looking into a gutter, could look with greater gravity and silence than Mr. Samuel Lewis. He was very stout—he had been a strong-made man, about the middle height, but now he had grown fat, and his scarlet waistcoat served ‘as a sort of shel- ter beneath which his broad ribbed smalls took refuge, and were seldom seen by their owner, save when he had occasion to dust his top- boots. Mr. Sam Lewis was a cunning and a clever one in his opinion. He could scarce say or do more than other people, and by way of attaining a character for cunning sagacity, which he had dis- cernment enough to see that he could never earn, he said less, and did less than other people. This was one way of obtaining a character, and few could have succeeded in it; but Sam Lewis looked grave, screwed up his mouth, cocked his eye, and looked so earnest, that it made a deep impression upon everybody. Good fortune often attends those who may certainly be de- serving it, yet who would never have achieved anything by their comicbooks. com