The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 36: what you’re looking at

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Ce THE MYSTERI£S 19 lend a helping hand in exterminating such dread- ful miscreants as these of whom you have been speaking.” “ Well—if so be Mr. Page has pluck enough to ter into the business, we can manage it, I've no loubt,” said Grumley, swinging one of his legs back- ward and forward, and surveying the movement with infinite complacency. “Be you agreeable, sir?” he asked, suddenly raising his head and fixing his small grey eyes inquiringly on the commercial tra- veller, “ Certainly he is,” hastily exclaimed the merchant, witbout allowing the principal party concerned to speak for himself. “ Are you not, Mr. Page?” “Oh! decidedly, sir,” responded this individual, summoning to his aid as much courage as he could command: although, in the secret recesses of his soul, he did not at all admire the prospect of placing himself in collision with Joe the Magaman and the Gallows’ Widow. “There’s a hundred pound reward offered for the apprehension of the Magsman,” observed Mr. Grum- ley, deliberately unrolling a bundle of bills printed in ominously large type, and displaying the one which related to a certain Joseph Warren. “A hundred pound to be got,” he repeated ; “ and there- fore me and Mr. Page will go sheers.” “That's business-like!” exclaimed the commer- cial traveller, his countenance brightening up at the prospect of a recompense for the risk he was about to encounter. “ Well, then?’ resumed Mr. Grumley, “ you must keep the appintment punctual this evening; and when you meet the Gallows’ Widow, you must tell her that you want to see Joe the Magsman about some partickler business, and that you're going on as far as the Beggar’s Staff in Horslydown. If so be the Magsman is in the neighbourhood at the time, watching your interview with his woman, she'll most likely take you to him. If not, she'll say that you can go with her to the flash boozing-ken But in any case you must go on to the Beggar's Staff; and then leave all the rest to me.” “Am I to go alone?” inquired Page, with some degree of surprise and dissatisfaction at the arrange- ments proposed. , “To be sure” answered the officer. “ Why— what a fool’s trick it would be to make your appear- ance with a troop of constables at your back. The rascals would take the alarm, and in a few minutes they’d be no-where. Don’t be afraid, sir: assistance will be pretty nigh, I can tell you.” “Very good,” remarked Page. “And supposing that I am introduced into the presence of this Mags- man, as he calls himself—what excuse had I better make for wanting to see him?” “Why, you'll tell him that you're in the employ of @ very rich firm im the city, and that having made a mull of your accounts, you’re grown desperate and don’t mind helping to rob’em,” said the officer. “ The Magzsman will snap at the bait; and so, if we don’t suoceed in grabbing him to-night, we shal] be pre- paring a plant to catch him in Wood Street. But you must mind and do it properly—or else the whole ing "ll fil, and he'll grow cunninger than ever.” understand,” observed Page; “and you may depend upon it that when I do enter into a thing, it is with a determination to go on boldly.” “So much the better,” exclaimed Gramley. “And new, genemen, as my time is precious and I’ve got certain little arrangements to make for to-night, I'll say good bye for the present.” Mr. Hodaon slipped afew guineas into the officer's hand ; and then took his departure, accompanied by Page. CHAPTER VIL EVENING IN LONDON.—THE GALLOWS WIDOW. It was nine o'clock in the evening; and a misty rain was falling. The lamps shone dimly as if through a fog: the streets were covered with a slimy mud ;—and Father Thames rolled through the arches of London bridge with a moaning sound. The wayfarers in the streets hurried along in a manner which showed that they would not be abroad unless business or necessity compelled them: those who had umbrellas were a trifle less sullen in tooks than those who had none;—and these latter appeared as miserable as scanty clothing, inclement weather. and the jostling of crowds on the filthy slippery pavement could possibly render them. Young seamstresses taking home the work which they had toiled hard to accomplish by a certain time,—milliner-girls returning to their poor lodg- ings,—women of pleasure in their flaunting garbs, contrasting so strangely with the aspect of the even- ing,—poor men’s wives going to purchase the frugal supper at some cheap shop,—and old crones shuffling along to the public-house,—these were al! mingled pell-mell in the myriad thoroughfares of the mighty metropolis—and the eye of the acute observer might single out each and assign her to the particular class to which she belonged. Of the male sex there were the ill-paid and hal f- starved clerk—the artizan, wearied with his hard day's labour—the needy adventurer in his shabby- genteel suit—the smal) tradesman, runuing about to collect in a few debts for the purpose of meeting a payment on the morrow—the old libertine whom no weather could keep out of the streets when the frais sisterhood walked alroad—the young rake puffing his cigar and nodding familiarly to the loose females whom he passed—the drunkard reeling home from the tavern—and the shivering beggar gazing wistfully at the windows of the bakers’ shops and the eating- houses. Then, too, might be observed the pauper-woman with an infant in her arms and a little family of shoeless and stockingless children trooping along miserabiy behind her :—here a ballad-singer, stand- ing in the gutter, had collected asmall knot of idlers; —and there a costermonger was pushing along his barrow, reckless of whose shins he might bruise or break at the crossings. Amidst the people thus passing to and fro in all directions might be observed the juvenile pickpocket, with rapid walk as if intent upon gaining some par- ticular destination, although in reality having no settled point in view; while the older thief sauntered more leisurely along, with his hands in his own pockets as if he had not the slightest intention of dipping them into the pockets of others. The shop-windows were all rendered dim by the rain that settled upon them: the coloured waters in the chemists’ dispensaries reflected a sinister light upon the countenances of the passers-by ;—and the COMGROO S COMM