Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

SPRING-HEEL D JACK! THE TERROR OF LONDON. “ What duty ?”’ 63 Never did he feel so good tempered since he ‘What duty, Pegsy? Can you look me in | had been in the force. the face and ask the question ?” “T don’t know what you mean.” “You don’t ?” SIND.” “J do.” “ What is it ?” Bristles placed his hand beneath his belt, and heayed a deep sigh. “Don’t you tumble?” he asked. NOS” “Then you is green.” “What do you mean, Mr. Bristles?” asked the girl, in surprise. : “Mean? Oh! dull of comprehesion ?” “T know I am.” * You are.” But ’tain’t my fault.” “Not yours; no, no, not all, but part—but part,” said Bristles, shaking his head sadly. _ ‘‘Oh! do explain,” said the girl, in a pleading and half-terrified tone. “ What canI do? What do you want me todo? What do you ask?” “Grub—yes, grub. There’s plenty in the kitchen. My bowels cry out aloud for wengeance on that lez of mutton bone,” exclaimed Bristles. “ Ah me!” “Why that groan?” ‘“Missus knows it’s there.’ * But you keep a cat.” ¢'Yes—we do.” “ And cats like mutton: cats will steal. Why, Peggy, dear, what’s more natural ?” , ‘But she might see me give it you, you know. But, stop. I tell you what I'll do,” said Peggy, quickly. “I shall have to come out again for my half-a-pint of beer which missus allows me for supper, and I’ll bring it with me.” “You will?” “Twill. But where can [ give it you without being seen, for I should lose my place if they knowed it.” “Tet me see. Why, I'll be just imside the churchyard. The gate is open. Nobody will see you there. Make haste and bring it me, for I've had no grub since my tea. There, give me another kiss. Now, look alive, and [Il await you there in bliss.” Bristles kissed the girl, and she hurried away from his side, and soon disappeared through the gate of the academy. Johnny grinned a broad erin, and with his measured step walked to- wards the churchyard. ee CHAPTER XXIV. THE THIEF AND THE RECEIVER—BRISTLES AND | THE SPECTRE. Provup ty erect walked Johnny Bristles, the model police-officer, towards the church. His mind had no room for any other thought than the supper which he believed was in store for him. He had completely forgotten all about the voice he had heard while in conversation with the girl he loved for what he could induce her to steal from her mistress’s larder. J a Had an old tormentor crossed his path, it is doubtful if he would have requested him to move on, so elated was he by the promise of the silly little Peggy Mittern. Nothing but the vision of a leo of mutton bone could he see as he continued his measured tread along the half-gravelled pathway. No eye had he for the numerous gateways he passed to reach the appointed spot—not one glance did he deign to cast upon the lighted kitchen windows. If Johnny Bristles had a love greater than another it was for mutton, and the nearer the bone the sweeter the meat he considered, always providing there was a good quantity of meat on it. Besides, Johnny preferred the bone to a slice, as he took good care to make a halfpenny out of what he could not eat. | So, with the vision of the mutton bone before his eyes, he walked slowly but stately on till he reached the churchyard, and paused before the closed but not fastened gate. Then he looked around him. Up and down the street went his glance in search of any person who might be curious enough to observe his movements. But no one was near, and placing his back against the gate he pushed it open and swung his body into the ahr chisited: permitting the gate to close to by its own weight. It shut with a loud clang, which made Johnny start, for the place was awe-inspiring enough by itself, without requiring any sudden and unexpected noise to add to its terror. Johnny Bristles had always been a coward before he joined the police, and if he had shown a greater amount of bravery since, it must have been that he imagined the blue coat and metal buttons to possess a charm which shielded the wearer from all possible danger or annoyance. While he was a cobbler, he never could fancy walking along a dark street late at night, and felt constrained to whistle to keep up his spirits. But once he donned the uniform, these ideas and terrors evaporated, and he would penetrate the darkest garden or lane, without any feeling akin to uneasiness. But there was one place in which he never felt easy. That was a churchyard. ) The silence, the tall white stones, like so many ghosts, reared up on the tops of their own graves, struck a chill to his heart. There is always a strange feeling even with the bravest, when business or otherwise may lead them among the homes of the dead. It may not be fear, but still there is a sensa- tion of awe which strikes to the heart. If, therefore, brave, educated men feel this, we may perhaps excuse poor Johnny Bristles for experiencing the feeling in a greater degree, even though he believed the coat and buttons to be an invulnerable armour. Certainly he started when the gate clanged to, and broke the almost oppressive silence. Certainly he looked nervously around the dreary place, and shuddered. He had no right there, and that may have a 00 00 OO LR | OOO) (El) AMJLICe “S (El)