The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

"8 you know ;—and there you'll meet a young woman dressed in black, She wont speak to you first: but you must go up to her and ask whether she’s wait- mg for any body. She'll reply that she has found bomething and is looking for the owner. Then you may tell her that you're the person she’s expecting; and when you pat fifty guineas into her hand—mind, fifty golden shiners, and no flimsies—she’ll give you .ap your poeket-book. “Can't it be done before to-morrow night” de- manded Page, who was. most anxious to call upon his employers in the morning. “ No :—you must bide my time,” was the rough and decisive answer. “ And now let me give you a little bit of advice—which is, not to try any plant upon the young woman, or get constables to lurk for the purpose of grabbing her: because she'll aave friends watching at no great distance—and 2% certain as sho is’ to be rescued, so sure are you to have a bullet through your head. Do you under- stand me” “It would be difficult to mistake your meaning,” responded Page. “So much the better,” observed the robber. “And now I shall say ‘good night.” But I may as well give you alittle bit of information, though, before we part,” he added, as an idea struck him. “ The fact is, my dear sir,” be continued, assuming s familiar tone, “ I'm a very usefo) man in my way, and not particular to a point w two. I'm pretty well-known to a good many swe fish coves at the West End—although they don’t recognise me if we happen to meet in Bond Street. Our intimacy is all private, and only lasts while I've any business in hand for them. But what I was going to ob- serve is, that if you ever get into any trouble and want a clever chap to get you out of it—or if you THE MYSTERIES. eee eee Ee may happen to require anything of a delicate nature to be done neat anu clean—you may apply to me. There’s a flash crib in Horslydown, known as the Beggar's Stoff; and a message left at the ber for Joe the Magsman will in due course be delivered to me, So now good night!” Having thus delivered himself, the huge ruffian turned and proceeded at a rapid rate dowe the lane—flourishing his club in a manner indicating as significantly as possible that it would be danger- ous to follow him. But Mr. Page had not the least idea of making the attempt. Indeed, he was so astounded by the strange tirade with which the thief closed the in- terview that he could not reply, even if he had wished, to the parting salutation. At length, recalling his scattered ideas, he began to deplore most bitter) the wild-goore chase which he had that night undertaken and which had brought him into his present unenviable predica- ment; and thga he bethought himself of the two constables whom he had left in the hackney-coach. “The lazy scoundrels!” he ejaculated aloud : “if they had only followed me as Ienjoined them, this misfortune could not have occurred. On the contrary, we might have captured the thief who has pluudered me. By heaven, ‘tis provoking— very provoking! Purse, watch, ring—all gone; and fifty guineas to pay to-morrow night for the pocket- book.” While thus giving way to his vexation, Mr. Paze rapidly retraced his steps; aud in a short time he | Bhe secretly reproached herself with being the canso re.ched the main road, where he vainly !vok:d' of the disgrace into which he had fallen in respect °° a ee ] about for the hackney-coach. The driver had be- come tired of waiting; and the constables were so. compelled to undertake the settlemeng of the fare—in pursuance of which agreement, the vehicle carried them back to Holborn. It was one o'clock in the morning when the com- mercial traveller,—exhausted with fatigue, half dead with cold, and bitterly repenting of his folly in meddling with matters that did not immediately concern the George and Blue Boar where he lost no time in seeking the repose of which he stood so much in nead. Buf even this he was not permitted to enjoy se long as he could have wished: for scarcely had the thousand churches of the mighty metropolis pro- claimed the hour of-seven, when he was aroused by a violent shaking through the medium of a rough hand applied to the shoulder ;—and, starting up, he beheld, by the dim light of the cold wizttry morning, the forms of Grint and Sneesby by his bed-side. These worthies came to dun him for the hackney- coach fare which they had been forced to make urs between them ;— and the wretched man was compelled to borrow the money of the landlord to satisfy their rapacity. eeeerr err eee aeceercc area aceee reer eeceeeee eee eee ee a a aT Sian, CHAPTER IIL TRE BEAUTIFUL SISTERS. ES TE a A TO I: ac Fo aS We must now return to the gentleman in the cloak who was the object of the wild-goose chase whiek: terminated in so deplorable a manner for Mr. Page. . The reader will remember that there was a row of | houses with gardens in front of them, at that part of ' the Edgeware Road where the fugitive had suddenly | and wnaccountably disappeared. ings ; were emall, but neat externally and comfortable | within; and they were dignified with the name | “Villas.” The speculator who had built them, in | herited from his father the not very euphonious name of Gubbins; and, though his ambition prompted | him to bestow immortality on the appellation by | calling the range of houses “ Gubbins’ Terrace,” | his friends had wisely interfered to rescue the “sweet | little cottages” from such an ugly nomenclature. The result was that the title of “ Paradise Villas” was fixed upon as a more pleasing substitute, and was | conferred accordingly. : The villa that stood last in the row and at the ' angle of the lane in which Mr. Page was eased of his | property, was occupied by a widower and his two | daughters. Mr. Clarendon wasa gentleman of smal] —very small income, allowed by g wealthy and titleé ; relative. He had been unfortunate—some said im provident—in early life, and had married the beaut. ful but penniless daughter of a poor clergyman. This match gave great umbrage to the proud and aristocratic famnily to which he himself belonged ; when his own means were exhausted, all that « could obtain from: the bounty of his cousin, Lord Marchmont, was an allowance of a hundred an fifty pounds a-year, just to keep him from actus) nury. Mrs. Clarendon was a woman of fine feeling, gene- }' rous sympathies, and keen sezsibility: and ber hus- | band's misfortanes preyed deepcy upon her mind, | CORNICE OOO G S}n(GO)