The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

‘A 96 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. *And also try and find out whether he enter- tains any suspicion about me, Jack,” continued the Hangman. “I don’t think he does—indeed, I’m almost certain he doesn’t: but still it’s just as well to ascertain the exact truth.” “Depend upon it, Mr. Coffin,” responded the Foundling, “I'll suck him as far as such a leary cove can be sucked at all.” “ Andif he wants you to stay any longer with him than the two days, don’t refuse, Jack,’ said the Hangman: “I can very well spare you for such a purpose—and if you succeed in getting any useful information out of Larry, I'll give you five guineas for yourself and a week’s holiday to spend ’em in.”’ “J'lldomy best, Mr. Coffian—I'll do my est,” exclaimed the Foundling, as he completed his hur- ried toilet, “And now I'll just say good bye to Dick and Sally~and then I'll be off with the thief- eatcher.” In the meantime Latry Sampson had been left alone in the shop for a few minutes,—the costermon- ger having taken his departure the moment he was shaven. While brushing his hair, the officer looked leisurely and ateadily round the place, his eyes seem- ing to penetrate into every nook, corner, and crevice. The piece of paper on which the Hangman had wiped the soap off his razor, had been tossed into the grate: Larry’s keen look observed writing upon it—and he picked it up. A hasty glance over it was sufficient to induce him to keep it: he accord- ingly folded it up and consigned it to his waistcoat pocket. Presently Jack the Foundling re-sppeared, dressed somewhat flashily, and with the bundle in his hand; and Larry, having taken his leave of the Hangman, departed in company with the youthful assistant In Farringdon Street they entered a hackney coach, and were thence driven to Mr. Sampson’s houss in Long Acre. The Bow Street functionary was unmarried, and possessed a neat bachelor residence. He had his dining-room and breakfast-parlour — his drawing- room and bed-chamber—and in addition thereto, a private apartment into which no one save himself and housekeeper ever en He was well off, his avovations having proved most lucrative; and if he now continued them, it was from habit and also from an aversion to idleness rather than from a positive love of gain. His housekeeper was an elderly female of the highest respectability, and who was generally called Dame Margery by Sampson and his friends, or Mra, Margery by the servaut-of-ail-work and the tradespeople. When Sampeon introduced Jack the Foundling to the Dame, and quietly observed that he was one of Daniel Coffin’s assistants who had come to passa day or two with him, the worthy woman neither manifested surprise nor displeasure that her’ master should bring home such queer company: for she knew full well that Larry must have some deep design or powerful motive of his own in adopting such a course. She therefore welcomed the Found- ling kindly, and at once showed him to the chamber which was to be his own while he remained at the house. _Having unpacked his little bundle of necessaries, given hie hair another brush, and satisfied himself by a good long stare in the mirror that “he was quite the thing,” the Foundling returned to the parlour where a copious breakfast had been put on the table during his temporary absence. The eyes of the young man were regaled and his appetite sharpened by the view of cold veal pie, a fine ham, rashers of bacon and eggs, and all the usual accessories to the morning's repast. * Now,” said Larry, in a plain and unvstentatious manner, “you are going to make yourself quite at home during your visit to me; aud on my side, I do not intend to treat you as a stranger. So please to sit down and partake of jast what you like. If you don’t fancy chocolate or coffee, which are both on the table, you can have wine, spirits, or malt liquor. Only say the word, and your wishes shall be complied with.” The Foundling thanked Mr. Sampson for his kindness, but assured him that he required no- thing beyogd what was now before him. Having been called away from his own breakfast in Fleet Lane to operate upon the costermonger's beard, the young man found plenty of appetite for the present banquet, as the repast really was in his eyes. He accordingly fell to work in good earnest, and made considerable havoc upon the various viands that appeared upon the board. .When he had eaten as much as he could and had disposed of his third cup of chocolate, his hospitable enter- tainer poured him out a glass of some rich French cordial; and the young man already began to think to himself how agreeable it would be to dwell ia such comfortable quarters for the re- mainder of his days. “ And now, my young friend,” said Mr. Sampson, when the breakfast table was cleared, “ you will permit me to have a little conversation with you ; —for I must tell you candidly that I have taken an interest in your welfare, which is not the leas sincere on account of its being so suddenly in- spired. Tell me, then, any particulars concerning yourself which you may choose to mention.” “In the first place, sir,” answered the younz man, whose heart was warmed towards his enter- tainer by the good cheer so hospitably provided and so copiously partaken of, “ I must tell you that {I have no other name, to my knowledge, except Jack the Foundling.” “Did you never know your parents?” inquired Sampson. ® “ Never, sir. 1 was brought up in a place which you must know very well by name—the Kinchia- Ken* in Grub Street,” “J do know it well,” observed the Bow Street officer. “ And now you ne€d not mind telling me anything you choose about yourself or any mis- deeds that you have committed: for I would sooner render you a service than do you an injury—and I have some scheme in my head regarding you—a scheme which you will perhaps be glad to hear ex- plained. Bat all depends upen your frankness and candour towards me. Ina single word, I will be your friend, if you prove yourself deserving of my friendship. Come — take another glass of this cordial : it will give you courage to enter into par- ticulars that are not perhaps the most pleasant for your feelings or your recollections.” “Depend upon it I will deal candidly with you, sir,” replied the Foundling: then, having tossed off the tqueur, he felt the warmth of his heart in- @ Literally “children's house: really a placc for juve- nile thieves of both sexes. = RE ee es gs eee oe eee oe —7 ecommicoooks