The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

80 TRE MYSTERIES. Page was tolerably well convinced: because that individual had spoken of Julia as his “ungrateful daughter”—and Julia’s name was mentioned in the document. In fact, the intimation therein contained, was addressed to her: and to what could it allude, save a treasure? Page had it all cut and dried in his imagination. The old man must have been a miser—and Julia would become an heiress! It was evident, by the existence of the note itself, that this Julia was un- aware of the locality where her father kept his —even if she knew that he had any money at all. Therefore, if Page could succeed in possessing himself of the treasure without her knowledge, so much the better: if not, then he could but propose to marry her—and he should become a rich man in either case. Such was the castle-building in which the com- mercial traveller indulged, as he sate by the fire in his chamber; and to such a pitch of sanguine en- thusiasm did his fertile and active imagination carry him, that he came to a conclusion of how silly it would be to permit the least unnecessary delay to occur ere he set about looking after the treasure. Accordingly, he resolved to issue forth at once in search of that miserable court which had been the scene of the previous night's adventures. The rheu- +matism had pretty nearly left him—and, even if it had not, what cared he so long as he could drag one leg after another? But, then, was he not about to venture into the very jaws of danger? Might he not encounter the Magsman or some of that formidable fellow’s adherents who knew him and who would thrust him back into the dungeon whence he had escaped with so much difficulty? All this was per- fectly true: but were not the risks worth running? Page thought so: his avarice was excited—and his courage rose in proportion. The clocks were striking six in the evening,—that same evening which Lord Florimel passed with Pauline, and on which Mrs. Brace took Caroline Walters to the midwife’s house in Lambeth,—es Mr. Page, enveloped in his cloak, stepped into a hackney- coach in Holborn, and ordered himself to be driven to the East London Dock. At this point he alighted ; and having dismissed the vebicle, began to take as well as he could possibly remember the same route which he had traversed in a contrary direction on the previous night. Plunging into the maze of dark, dirty, and danger- ous streets, he found that it was no easy task to trace a particular course in such a wilderness of brick and mortar, without the knowledge of even the names of the various thoroughfares. But Page was not readily baffled: he had a grand object in view—and never had he felt so bold and so enter- prising. By dint of perseverance, he began to dis- cover certain salient features which he remembered to have noticed on the former occasion: here, for instance, was a tavern with a flag-staff on the roof— there was the local round-house, or cage, with the watchman’s box at the side,—here was a carrier's establishment, with two or three vans standing in the street—there was a blacksmith’s forge where the heavy hammers rang and the glowing furnace blazed all night long,—here, again, was a public house with another remarkable sign that could not fail to be re- ee ee tee oad there was 8 low ing-ken, oor of which being always open, afforded the passers-by a view of the loathsome in- terior, the aspect of which would not be very readily forgotten. Thus picking his way, and ever and anon recog- nising points or features which might be termed the land-marks of the district, Mr. Page at last succeeded in discovering the court whereof he was in search. For a moment his heart failed him as he plunged his looks up the low entrance-archway and thought of the noisome dungeon at the end: but when he be- held lights gleaming from many windows, his revived—for he thought within himself, “ All the in- habitants of this court cannot be thieves or mur- derers; and as neither the Magsman nor his ad- herents should capture me without a resistance on my part, assistance would surely arrive from some quarter or another in answer to my cries.’’ r As this reflection passed through his mind, the commercial traveller mechanically placed his hands upon his coat-pockets to feel whether his pistols were safe; and at the same time he turned boldly into the court. Not a soul was to be seen—all the doors were shut —but shouts of revelry and boisterous mirth came from some of the dwellings, while shrieks and oaths bore unmistakable testimony to the violent quarrels that were going on in others. Page knocked at the house which was the object of his visit to this quarter of the metropolis: and he was just thinking what course he should adopt in case his summons remained unanswered, when the door was opened by a young female holding a light in her hand. She was poorly dressed,—but by uo means bad-looking; for her features were regular, and her figure was good; but the dark circles round the eyes, the peculiar redness of the lips, and the ex- treme paleness of the cheeks gave her a dissipated air—while the boldness of her looks at once pro- claimed the unblushing courtezan. “Who are yout” she demanded abruptly—al- most msolently, upon opening the door. “If your name is Julia,” said Page hastily,—for he did not admire the circumstance of being kept standing in the court,—“ it is of the utmost import- ance that I should have a private conversation with you as soon as possible.” “ But who are you, I again ask,” cried the young woman, hesitating whether to admit the visitor, or not—indeed, uncertain whether to regard him as friend or foe. “J was present at your father’s death last night!” returned Page, in a solemn and impressive manner. “Then walk in,” said Julia, standing back to allow him room to enter the narrow passage: and when he had complied with her invitation, she closed and fastened the door. Leading the way into an empty room opening from the passage, she placed the candle on the mantel-piece, observing in a compara- tively civil tone, “I am sorry, sir, that I cannot ask you up-stairs to the only chamber where there is any furniture,—but, as you may suppose, my father is laid out there—and f can’t endure to look on a dead body.” “ No apology is necessary,” said Page. “An ac- cident brought me into this house last night—and hearing moans up-stairs, I went to see if I could render any assistance——”’ “And you found my father dying?” interrupted the girl, her voice indicating some degree of emotion. “ I didn’t know that he was so bad—or I wouldn't COMNGBOOKS COMM