Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

226 something was seemed beyond his coneeption. He slowly walked his horse along for some dis- tance, keeping his glance rivetted upon the merchant, who had no sooner turned out of the street in which Bill Jackson lived, than he hailed another coach and got in. The vehicle in which he had taken his seat dashed off at a grand rattling pace, and the driver who had been watching him now urged his horse forward, and followed it. Over the stones went the two vehicles with a rattle and a clatter, keeping a good distance between them ; the foremost driver conveying Grasper to -his house, the hindermost swearing at himself for being a fool to be urged on by a curiosity, for which he could not account, to follow it. . On they went, till gravelled roads took the place of stone ones, and fields and hedgerows occupied sites where bricks and mortar now stand—on, till the first vehicle drew up before the villa in which the merchant resided, and then the second dashed past it along the road, the driver cursing himself for losing his time and making a fool of himself. ‘*Hi! coach!” cried a loud voice, as the man drove along, muttering imprecations, deep if not loud, upon his curiosity. ‘“ Are you engaged ?” “No, sir,’ he replied, quickly drawing up be- side a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, from whose shoulders a long cloak fell in graceful folds. “No, sir, ’m not engaged—at least Pve not got a fare inside,” ‘“‘T asked you were you engaged. on your way to pick up a fare?” “No, sir. J was only engaged by my own foolery,” was the reply. “I might have had a fare, I daresay, if I'd looked out for one, in- stead of looking after other people’s business.” “You should always mind your own, and leave others to attend to theirs,” said the gentle- man. ‘‘T know that, sir,’ said the driver, “and I can’t account for whyI have acted asI have. I took up a fare this morning close to the cross roads, where they buried a chap that committed suicide. There was nothing strange in that, cer- tainly ; but I’ve driven ’em both before and not together, and there’s something about them that I can’t make out. I feel it’s notall right. Well, sir, I drove them to a dirty-looking house in Bethnal-green, where the old chap left the young woman; and I’ve been following the coach he hailed right down to those houses there.”’ And the man pointed with his finger to the row of villa residences, about a quarter of a mile down the road. The man in the cloak had paid little or no heed to what the garrulous driver was talking about, till he mentioned the houses, and then he turned his gaze in the direction indicated by the man’s finger. “What! what!” he said, hurriedly. ‘ You took up a fare at the cross roads, where the suicide was buried last night? drove to Bethnal-green and back again to those houses ?” ‘Yes, sir.” ‘What fare did you take up ?” Are you ‘“A wiry-headed chap about fifty, as had SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: THE TERROR OF LONDON. been a little bit mauled about the face, and a young woman, as seemed to me as if she had lost her senses. Why, lor’ bless you!” added the man, quickly, “of course I know the chap now, well enough. Why it’s the same manas I brought home one night that had been knocked down near the City, and had to go nextday for my fare; and that woman is the very one I gave a ride back for nothing. Certainly, I recollect now. What a fool I am. Where shall I drive you to, sir 2?” . But Jack—for he it was in the cloak—did not reply. The words of the driver had set his mind at work, and his thoughts were busy. He had leaped to the conclusion that the man was Ralph Grasper. But the woman, who was she ? | He had been to the house of the suicide, but could obtain no admittance to his summons,—a circumstance which had puzzled him much. Had Grasper been there before him, and carried off Jane ? The thought struck him that such a thing was probable, and he turned to the driver to inquire what sort of a person was the woman who had been his fare. The man described her particularly — her height, her dress ; and Jack felt a strange pang as the man concluded. “€ Did she speak ?” he asked. ‘“* Not a word,” was the reply. “ Would you know this house again, where you . set them down 2’’ he asked, after a pause. ‘Know it among a thousand,” said the man. And then he went on to describe it in every particular, even to the pigeon-dormer. Jack recognised the house where the seam- stress had lived, and he became more and more interested and perplexed, and instead of getting into the coach, he stood in the roadway with his hand upon the door of the vehicle, looking down at his feet, and knitting his brows. The longer he thought, the more convinced he became that the fare the man had spoken of was Grasper and Jane Slater. But how came she in his company? Why did they go to Jackson’s ? He was still puzzling his brains, when the vehicle which had brought Grasper home was driven by, and the driver called out— — “ Ain’t you got rid of your fare, mate? You kept pretty close behind me all along, didn’t you? But you couldn’t pass me, old boy.” This was addressed to the driver of the vehicle against which Jack stood, and caused Jack to start suddenly round and look at the speaker. “You've got rid of yours, ain't you?” was the retort, half-sullenly. ‘“‘ Yes, for the present.” ‘¢ Oh, don’t he live there ?” “Yes. But I got to pick him up at half-past eleven to-night, and drive him back from where he engaged me. There’s a house a little lower down just open. If you like to come down when you've done weh that gent, I'll stand a class.”” ~ And with this, the man drove off. “Hark you, «my good fellow,’ said Jack, quickly, and getting into the coach as he spoke, “T want you to drive me to Hyde Park- —_— — -— | ICO EGOMmMIGc <S;€O