Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 225: what you’re looking at

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

= eee SPRING-HEEL D JACK: the ruffan whom he had marked out for her gaoler. Once in the dwelling of Bill Jackson, he eared not whether she became again sane, although his dearest hope was that the strange fit would last for a long time, as it would the better suit his villanous purpose, and the easier administer to his revenge—a revenge he had long plotted, long panted for. . The course of the vehicle was, indeed, a swift - one; but to the impatient Grasper it seemed to crawl, snail-like, on its way, and once or twice he nearly gave expression to his feelings, and only stifled his muttered curse upon his lips. At length the vehicle was stopped, and the driver desired to know the exact spot he wished to alight. : : To drive direct to the door of Bill Jackson’s dwelling Grasper felt would cause an amount of curiosity among the neighbours, which it would be better not to incur, so he replied ~ “We'll get out here.’ Then, turning to Jane, he added, “ We will walk the rest of the way. Shall we, dearest ?” To this Jane gave a willing assent, and, handing her from the coach, he placed half-a- SORSTEIED in_the driver's hand, and hurried her ong. The man looked at the coin, placed it between his teeth, knitted his brows, and looked after him. “T know you both, somewhere,” he muttered, ‘and I shall know you again. I don’t like the look of things, if it is no business of mine.”’ And, mounting his box, he drove leisurely along in the same direction as Grasper had taken, , Tn the course of a few minutes the merchant and the maniac stood before the dirty door with the greasy cord in the centre, and, in answer to a kick upon it, Bill Jackson flung it open, and stood glaring in surprise upon his visitors. A look—a motion—and the ruffian drew back to suffer Grasper to enter the passage with his charge, which he did quickly, and the next moment the door was closed behind them. A whispered and hurried conversation en- sued between Grasper and the pigeon-fancier, while meaning looks were ever and anon cast upon the pale and expressionless face of Jane ‘Slater, who, apparently lost to everything sur- rounding, stood with her hand resting on Grasper’s arm. | “Tll keep her safe, never fear. My old woman will be a mother toher. We'll put her in the room that that work-girl had, and she’ll be all right.”’ ‘When will you come, did you say, sir?” “Shortly after midnight,” was the whis- pered reply. ‘‘Guard her as you would your life, and your reward shall be princely. Allow her to escape me, and a prison door closes upon your form.” , And leaving her in the care of the pigeon- fancier, Grasper left the house, to return at midnight. And the vehicle which rolled through the silent city at that solemn hour bore him thither again. THE TERROR OF LONDON. 227 - CHAPTER LXXVIITI. WATCHED AND FOLLOWED. THE driver of the coach, whose curiosity had been somewhat excited by his confused notion of having met before, and under somewhat unusual circumstances, with both Grasper and his imbe- cile companion, having slowly followed in the same direction they had taken, drove his vehicle past the house of Bill Jackson, which he had seen them enter, and took a careful survey of that dirty tenement, fixing it indelibly upon his memory by the large pigeon-dormer that still disgraced the roof, albeit the birds had long since disappeared, not only from their old home but from sight entirely. Bill had disposed of them the day after the fright he had received from Jack to a fellow fancier, who, after some day’s confinement ina loft,. let them out for a fly, and, as a natural circumstance, instead of returning, they winged their way back to their old domicile at the top . of Bill’s house, where that worthy was not slow in discovering them. Bill knew well enough that if he took them back to their purchaser that the birds would again return at the first opportunity, so he resolved to at once put an end to all chance of their doing so, and furnish a meal for his wife and children. So, bidding his wife send for a half-a-quartern of flour, he quietly twisted their necks, and had them cooked in a pie, which was creatly enjoyed by the whole family, even including Bill himself, who vowed he had never eaten a better or cheaper dinner in his life. Of course the utmost secrecy was observed as to the fate of the birds, and a great many lies were told to their anxious and inquiring owner ; but as no trace of the birds could be found—for Bill had burnt all the feathers—little more was said about them, and in a few days they were for- gotten. Bill had not again used his dormer, which was fast falling to decay ; and its ruinous appearance did much to fix in the mind of the coachman the exact house into which his fare had gone. Although the worthy Jehu kept muttering to himself that if things did look strange it was no business of his, he was unable to curb his curiosity. So, after having taken a good observa- tion of the house, he turned his horse’s head round and drew up at the ‘‘ Pigeon Flyers,” which he entered, and called for a glass of ale. He did not immediately swallow the beverage, but stood thoughifully toying with the glass and looking through the open door of the beershop, at the one with the greasy cord in the centre of the dirty panels, which suddenly opened to permit of the exit of Ralph Grasper. Then the driver hastily swallowed his ale, and: remounting his box urged his horse after the merchant, who, at a quick nace, hurried down the street. The driver could soon have overtaken him certainly, had he desired to do so; but he had no such wish. In fact, had anyone asked him what his intentions were, he could not himself have told them. In truth, he did not know. Something seemed to urge him to act as he did; but what that | OOO) (COMMAMLCG <S co