Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

: l om - SPRING-HEEL'D JACK: THE TERROR OF LONDON. cle 3) gl a Sg “ You did indeed, Mr. Jackson.” Ds Gol ‘Well, I mean to extinguish you as well, unless you dub up the money you owe me,” said Bill, ferociously. - % “te. © “Mr. Jackson, I’m very sorry "—— = — ! “ Blow your sorrows! Are you going to pay me my. rent?” said*Bill, raising’ his voice to a pitel sufficient to be heard in thé bar of the igeon Flyers, on the opposite side of the road. ‘‘T assure you” ——._—_ = : re? “TI don’t want. that, I want my rent,’ inter- rupted Bill, ) me Pe 44 3 ‘““For goodness sake, Mr. Jackson, don’t talk so loud,” pleaded Ellen. 2 y aiND “What have I got to be ashamed of? ” said Bill, steadying himself’ by placing’-his hands against the wall.’ “I ain’t a-going to rob any- body. I’m only asking for my own.”’ ; Don’t holler, Bill—don’t holler,” said his wife. “‘ You shut up, and mind your own business, or I'll make you holler,” he replied, brutally. The poor woman was silent. She understood the threat, and trembled for her safety. | aa | “Believe me, Mr. Jackson, I am extremely sorry that I am unable to comply with your demands to-night,” said Ellen, in a low, choking voice. ‘‘T have not been able to go to the ware- house, but will work all night to get the shirts finished and take them in to-morrow, and I. pro- mise you I will then give you some.” ‘‘T don’t want some, I want all,” growled Bill, “and what’s more, I want it all, and will have it before you go upstairs.” “But I’ve not got it. The last halfpenny 1 had in the world I laid out for the rushlight to WHATKIUVAG) mee y ec ee “You've no right ‘to buy rushlights with my money,’ cried Bill...“ You ain’t paid meno rent for three weeks, and there’s five owing, and I want it, and will have it, that’s flat.” - ‘You cannot have what I have-not got.” “Then I'll take what you have,” growled ‘Bill. “T won't wait any longer, if I do 'm"’—— And the drunken ruthan thrust the poor seam+ stress violently aside and staggered stairs. s+ oe a : “Oh! Mr. Jackson, to-morrow you shall ”—— “ To-night I will have some money—l can get it at the dolly shop for some of the stuff you're working on, and you must find out how to get them back. I’m not going to be put off any longer. Light that candle, d’ye hear, you lazy varmint?” he added, addressing his wife, “ and let’s see what she’s got upstairs.” With a half shriek Ellen Folder sprang to the foot of the stairs and seized the arm of the in- toxicated man. “For heaven’s sake do not touch the work entrusted to me.~ The property is not mine.” — “You ain’t paid no rent, and it’s mine,” said , _ Bill, shaking off her hold, “and I'll-do as-1 like |, withit. You’d better bring me a light, missus, or I’l] knock one out of your eyes to see My way upstairs with.” Knowing from experience the brutal nature of her husband, and. dreading the putting into practice his threats, Mrs, Jackson went into the towards’ the | little back room, and procuring a light from a |small cinder fire in the grate, returned to the pisos, and searched for the candlestick, by the ight of a piece of paper she held in her hand. This she had little difficulty in finding; but as to the rushlight, that had been broken and flattened against the wall, and to ignite its battered wick became a work of impossibility “Look alive!” yelled the enraged and im- patient Bill, swaying to and fro by the handrails of the banisters. ee : “ Tt’s broke to pieces and won't light,” said his wife. ‘* Wait till the morning, Bill—wait till the morning.” | ‘You won't light it, won’t you?” yelled Bill, leaving go his hold of the handrail, and leaping towards her. cs I can’t.” ‘Then take that, you.obstinate varmint!” he exclaimed, striking his wife a blow on the cheek, and causing her to let fall the candlestick. “You drunken wretch! you beast! you brute !” cried his wife, bursting into tears, and retreating to the back room. “What do you say?” yelled Bill, rushing after her, with his unmanly fists closed. But as he reached the door of the room, the affrighted woman shut it quickly in his face ; and the drunken bully, dashing against it, fell across the passage. | The poor girl, who, in the meantime, had stood wringing her hands in agony and fear, now sprang quickly over the prostrate body of Bull, and scarce touching the rickety stairs, flew up them two at a time, reached her own room, closed the door behind her and locked it, then with a sob sank down upon the single chair— the rush bottom of which was fast disappear- ing—and burrying her face in her hands, listened with a beating heart for the sound of the drunkard’s footsteps. ‘‘ Oh, heaven’s!”” she gasped, ‘‘ what shall I do!—what shallI do? If he takes my work, I am ruined ! They will drag me to a prison—my character will be blasted—my bread gone, and the ‘workhouse alone: open to me! Oh, that I had the moriey to pay him! But now not even a part shall I be able to get to-morrow, for I have nod light to work by. Poverty—poverty, what a curse thou art! What indignities, insults, and outrages are not heaped upon thee! Merciful heavens! he is coming up-stairs! He will break the door, and take my work. Oh! what shall I do ?7—what shall I do?” She sprang from her seat, and wrung her hands in agony. At this moment there was a Doisy commotion among the pigeons in the dormer above her head, and had the door of her room been open, she might have seen a frightful looking-face mm the centre of a small trap in the ceiling of the little landing outside. | CHAPTER Ix. THE WORKGIRL’S STRATAGEM—THE STRANGE AP- PEARANCE—THE BULLY COWED—THE AGREE- MENT: AND DISAPPEARANCE. Tur heavy footfall of the drunken man as he staggered up the stairs, rolling from handrail to of eres OM GOOOKSIGOhr i ee #