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.

| § | 1 eee ES ee oS Sr ee | ee PE SS US eet -_ SS we - THE MYSTERIES. want: because I have seen enough to convince me that he is fayourably inclined towards the baronet— and there’s no saying how he may find means of sending him notice of what’s going on, should we fail in capturing the villain to-night.” “ All right,” returned the officers: and away they went in company with Page, whose sense of duty towards society was wonderfully sharpened by the reward offered for the apprehension of Sir Richard Stamford. Close by there was ahackney-coach stand; and the commercial traveller walked straight up to the waterman, and put a crown into his hand, saying, “My good fellow, a gentleman ina cloak took 3 vehicle here a few minutes ago—I am sure he did: now, where did he order the driver to take him ?” “All right, sir—Edgeware Road,” replied the waterman, joyfully pocketting the welcome gift. “Twas a yaller jarvey ——” “Look alive, then!” interrupted the active Mr. as he sprang into a coach the door of which red himself and the constables hav- ing he sly pene aren him, he exclaimed, “ Edgeware Road—and a guinea for the jarvey if he catches up the other vehicle,” This exciting promise was instantaneously com- municated to the driver by the waterman, who in Squally succinct terms gave such information as en- abled that functionary to comprehend which coach it was that was now to be pursued; and away went the equipage at a rattling pace. “Tt wasn't a bad dodge of mine to commence ine quiries at the coach-stand,” observed Mr. Page to the constables, as they rolled along towards Oxford Street : “for may I be hanged if I knew which direc- tion the fugitive took when he quitted the hotel.” “Oh! then he was at the George—eh?” ex- claimed one of the constables; and turning to his comrade, he said, “So you see our information was right, Bill, arter all, But how was it, sir,” he con- tinued, again addressing himself to Page, “that you didn’t collar him, if so be you twigged him there?” “I can assure you that my palms itched to clutch him,” replied the commercia traveller; “ but I wasn’t certain that he was really the man, and I was fearful of getting m into a scrape by seizing the wrong one. battery, false imprisonment, defama- tion, and all that sort of thing, you know, kept rising up nny maind and restraining my arm.” bless ye, sir, if we was to be on’y half so gartickler as that, we should never do no bisness,” esid the canstable: “should us, Bill Sneesby ?” “You're about night, Mr. Grint,” responded the individual thus blandly appealed to. “ Our vay is to knock folks down fust and take ’em up arterwards. If so be we’ve nailed the right uns, then there’s no harm done: but if so be we've got the wrong sow by the ear, we apologises—and there’s an end on’t.” “And suppose that in this last case,” observed Mr. Page, “ the innocent persons whom you’ve treated 90 roughly, don’t choose to be satisfied with an ex- cuse ?” “Then we locks 'em up for r interfering with us in the execution of our dooty,” was Grint’s prompt 7 I understand,” exclaimed the commercial traveller, whose opinion of the morality of the twe constables was not improved by this avowal: wish- ing, therefore, to change the conversation,—which, we should observe, he had himself frequently inter- rupted by thrusting his head forth from the windea | to see if the yellow coach was in sight,—he satd, “} | suppose you are constables from Aylesbury ? ”’ * Just so, sir,” replied Grint: “and on coming up to town just now, we happened to meet a friend of our’n wot lives at Aylesbury and héd been in Lon- | don for the last week or 90. Well, we got into talk together—and then we had summinut to drink—and it was nat’ral enough that me and my partner here should tell him all about Sir Richatd, ’eos he hadn’t heard a word on it afore: as how ehduld he? secing that it on’y happened last night, and a matter of forty mile away fromtown. Well, sir, after he'd recovered his-self a bit—for he was strack quite stupid, as one may say—he says, says he, ‘ Mr. Grint, £f ever I see Sir Richard Stamford in all my life, 1 saw him on’y a few minutes before I met you. He was tn his cloak 3 and he turned into the George and Blue Boar, Hol- born.’—This was quite enough for Bill Sneeby and me; and it was fortunate we hadn't told our Ayles- bury friend about the reward—or else he’d have wanted to go sheers ———” “Here we are at the Edgeware Road!” suddenly cried Page: then, thrusting his head out of the win- dow, he exclaimed to the driver, “Push along, my man—don’t spare your horse-flesh! Do you see anything of the yellow coach yet?” “ Nothink, sir,” was the reply. Page still kept his head out of the window; and he strained his eyes to the utmost as he looked up the road. The night was moon-lit, the atmosphere was of silvery clearness, and all was bright with the sheen of the frost—so that he could distinguish objects at a considerable distance. Suddenly the coachman uttered an ojaculation; and at the same instant the commercial traveller caught sight of a vehicle a quarter of a mile a-head. “ That’s it, sir !* exclaimed the driver. “There—~ it’s crossing over from one side of the road to the tother — most likely on acoount of the flint. stones——”" “1 see—I seo!” interrupted Page, who at thet moment got a glimpse of the yellow side and wheels of the coach. * Push along, my fine fellow! You'll earn your guinea yet !” “And us the hundred peund reward, sir,” added Mr. Grint, in a tone of satisfaction as lively as it was in his stolid nature to render it. “ Why—they’re a stopping, sir!” ejaculated the driver. “I spose they're a-waiting for us to come up with ‘em——” “Wo such thing! cried Page, who was hanging half-way out of the window, and straining his eyes to the full extent of their vienal powers: “the villain has just jumped out of tha coach-—yr3— ‘tis he, by heaven !” “A tall man in a cloak, sir?” exclaimed ths driver, without turning bie hoad, but whipping his horses furiously. “'Yes—to be sure!” cried Page. “I saw him as plain as possible: he eut across the road-—te those houses on the left, there——” “ And now the (Yallor jarvey is turning round te come back again,” said Mr. Grint, who wes ganing from the other window. This last piece of information was perfectly true: and in acouple of minutes the two vehicles met The one containing the constables and Page puiled up—and the yellow coach foHowed the example Out sprang the commercial traveller from th! i | bole COMmiGe S COMM