The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 282: what you’re looking at

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

‘‘ Dic, indeed 1!” ejaculated the ruffian, in a con- temptuous tone. “Why, Lord bless you—l’ve stayed here for three veeks at a time, afore now— without over budging out. Not be ablo to linger, as you call it, in this comfortable crib—smoke and drink all day long—or drink only, if you don’t like smoking—and sleep in one of thom Windsor-cheors as cozie as a bug in a rug! Besides, won’t you have mo for a companion——” “No—no: Ican not—will not ondure it!” ex- claimed Torrens, starting up from his chair,—his countenance hideous with its workings—his nerves strung to the most painful state of tonsion—and a thousand frightful thoughts rushing in, with tho speed and fury of a torrent, upon his appalled goril. “Hold your cursed jaw, you fool!’’ growled Vitriol Bob, in a tone of sudden rage: “you will be heard in tho street—and——”’ “T caro not!’ screamed Torrens, louder than before. “Give moe my share of the money—let me depart-——” “Be quict, J say!” spoke tho ruffian, in a still moro irritated voice, while he sprang from his seat on the barrel; “ or J shall do you a mischiof.” “T caro not!” again cried Torrens—and again his tone grew still more piercing and shriekingly hysterical; for ho was wrought up to a state of utter despair. “Give me my money, I say—give me %) “Fool—be still!’ exclaimed Vitriol Bob, rushing round the table, and grasping the old man by the threat. But Torrens, inspired with a sudden strength that astonished the ruffian, broke away from his gripe, and rushed towards the door, crying “ Murder ~—murder !” ‘Damnation!’ thundored Bob; and bounding after him, he sprang upon the old man with the fury and the force of a tigor. ‘‘Murder!” again yelled the affrighted, desperate Torrens: but in another instant he was dashed violently against the wall. A moan succeeded his agonising cry—and he fell heavily upon tho floor. Vitriol Bob then jumped upon him— and the attenuated form of tho wrotched old man writhed beneath the heavy feet of the murderous ruffian. There was a faint and stifling appeal for “ Mercy! mercy !”—but the miscreant silenced it with a ferocious stamp of his heel on tho mouth of tho dying man ;—and in a fow momonts all was over ! Vitriol Bob was now alone, in the gloomy, cheerless place, with the crushed and disfigured corpse of him whom he had literally trampled to death, But scarcely was the deed accomplished, when a noise, as of gravel thrown from tho street against the kitchen window, fell upon the ears of the murderer, whose countonance instantly expanded into an expression of grim delight at the well- known signal, “Here’s Pig-faced Poll!” ho exclaimed hastily: and then he paused to listen again. At the expiration of about a minute the signal was repeated; and Vitriol Bob, no longer harbour- ing the slightest doubt, hurried up the stairs to open the street-door J THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. ne CHAPTER CLXXVI. SCENES IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE. AT five-and-twenty minutes past ten, on this eventful night, Mrs. Mortimer entered the narrow lane loading from the Blackfriars Road into Colling- wood Street. We have already stated that she had persuaded herself into a belief of Jack Rily’s fidelity towards his partner or palin any enterprise: nevertheless, she could not help wishing that the business in hand was over—and shoe mentally oxclaimed more than onco, as she threaded the lane, “ Would that to-morrow morning were comol” But she had such a powerful inducement to proceed in the affair at any risk, that the idea of retreating was dis- carded each time it faintly suggested itself; and when Jack Rily made his appearance, punctually to an instant, sho felt her courage worked up to such a pitch that it was difficult to decide whother it arose from entire confidence or utter desperation. “So, here you are, my fine old tiger-cat,” said the doctor, grasping her hand, with a force that might have been vory friendly, but was not the less painful on that account, “I thought you would not flinch: indeed, [ made sure you’d come to tlio scratch,” “What have I to be afraid of—since you are 50 sure of being able to overpower the wretch whom you call Vitriol Bob!” demanded Mrs. Mortimer, in afirm tone. “I haye already told you that I will undertake to manage the villain Torrens.” “YF long to sec you grapple with him,” returned the doctor. “ But wo must not waste timo in idlo observations. Listen, my good lady, to our plan of proceeding. Vitriol Bob has a fomalo acquaintance called Molly Calvert—or, in moro familiar terms, Pig-faced Poll. This youug woman knows his haunt—kuows also thesignals necessary to isduce him to open tho door. Besides, whenever he's miss- ing, she goes straight therc, with a basket of pro» visions and what not—because she naturally suspects that he has done something queer and has found it convenient to make himself scarce. Well—you must be Pig-faced Poll for the nonce ——”’ “YT undorstand you,” interrupted Mrs, Mortimer, “Itis for me to give the signal and obtain admis- sion -—-—” ‘‘ Just so, my dear madam—and for us botli—be- cause if over Molly Calyert and I go thero together, it’s always the young woman herself who whispers a word of assurance to Vitriol Bob when he opens the door,” ‘ But supposo that the young woman you speak of, has already repaired to the robber’s haunt— suppose that she is already with him —-—~—” “Now don’t take Jack Rily for an arrant fool !” said tho ruffian; and, dark though it were in the narrow lane where this colloquy took place, Mrs, Mortimer could see the huge white tecth of her companion gleaming through tho oponing of his horrid hare-lip. “I know what I am about,” ho con- tinued. “ Lord bless you ! do you think I have been idle since I saw you this morning? No such thing! I went straight away to Molly Calvert, and mado her sond out fora bottle of gin. Sie is uncommonly fond of blue ruin—particulariy when she drinks at another person’s expense; and as she drank this afternoon aut mine, she did not spare it, Ina word, I left ker in such a nolpless stato of intoxication, that if she meves off her bed before two or throe o’clock in the (C(O) (C DOO <S LL (SO)