The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 295: what you’re looking at

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

LLL LLL LLL 280 most moral young women in the world, as your lordships may suppose. They have both got their fancy-men—reglar rum ’uns. Biddy Burley, the eldest, is the blowen of Mat the Cadger; and Polly “urley, the youngest, has Spider Bill for her flash man. These chaps are the greatest thieves in Lon- ion, and have been a many times on the everlasting staircase that means the treadmill.” While the police-constable was thus running on with the details of his information relative to the Burley family, he had conducted the two noblemen away from Covent Garden, into a dark, narrow, sinister-looking street leading out of Drury Lane. As they passed along, they suddenly came upon an individual who was leaning with his back against the closed gateway of a wheelwright’s workshop, as appeared by the white letters painted on the doors, and on which a light from the window ot the oppo- site house was streaming full. The man leaning there was respectably dressed, and was smoking a cigar. The policeman stopped short, and said to him, “ Well, Harry—watching this place still—eh ?” “Yes: and likely to watch it too,” was the re- sponse. ‘Uncommon tedious work, I can tell you. Bat stay—the door’s opening!” As he thus spoke he kept his eyes fixed on the tpposite house whence the light was streaming. The constable and the two noblemen looked in the same direction. The light now disappeared from the ‘vindow: the sound of bolts drawing baek and a chain let down continued to be heard for a tew mo- ments: then the d»vr opened—and an old man of very sordid and s‘nister appearance came forth. He tirew a glance ucross the narrow street at the group assembled opposite his door, and gave a low rocking iaugh -vhich sounded horrible as a death- rattle. Closing the door, the old man _ proceeded along the street; and the individual who had been «ddressed by the name of Harry, at once followed him. “ What’s all this mean?” asked Lord Saxondale of the constable-guide after a few moments’ silence. “That place,” answered the police-officer, pointing to the dwelling whence the old man had issued, “is a receiving-house for stolen goods; and that old feller is the receiver himself. We call him a fence; and he’s one of the sharpest in London. The man Harry that I spoke to and that’s gone after him, is an officer of the Detective Force; and he will follow the old fence wherever he goes, no matter how long he may be absent. There’s three of the Detectives that’s appointed for this special service— to keep watch night and day; and they take their turns. This has been going on for the last five months, and will cost the county a precious sum of money.” “‘ But can’t they bring anything positive home to the old man, so as to get him punished at once?” asked Staunton. “No. Since he’s been watched he takes too good care of that,” replied the constable. Besides, that’s not so much the object—although of course if there was a cause he would very soon be took up. The chief object is to force him out of the neigh- bourhood, and make him break up his establish- ment.” “JT was not aware that the Police Commissioners possessed such power,” observed Lord Harold. “ Power?f” echoed the constable. “ Bless your THE MYSTERIES OP THE COURT. lordship, the Commissioners can do anything. And so can us constables too for that matter,” added the officer, with a laugh: “for we know very well that the magistrates are sure to take our part, unless it’s something very outrageous indeed. But even then there’s generally a loop-hole found for us to creep out of. This way, my lords—and here we are.” While thus speaking, the constable had led the two noblemen round a turning into another street of even a more sinister appearance than the one they had just quitted; and they had halted at the 'door of one of the blackened cut-throat-looking ‘houses that formed the street. The constable knocked at the door: but some minutes elapsed ere it was opened; and durins this interval the sounds of numerous juvenile voices reached their ears from within, resembling the uproarious mirth of a school that is breaking up for the holidays. At length the door was opened by an ill-looking bloated young woman, of about five-and-twenty. | Her hair seemed in as much disorder as if she had _ been creeping through a hedge: a dirty faded cotton- gown hung loosely upon her; and being open in front, left her coarse bosom indecently exposed. She evidently had no stays on, and indeed appeared to have no under-garments of any kind. Her dirtx stockings were dangling down; and her feet wers | thrust into an old pair of shoes trodden at the heels, so that they pattered on the floor like clog: when she walked. She held a candle in her hand—- and had a half-tipsy look, as if she had been dis- | turbed in the midst of a revel. She however imme- diately recognized the policeman: but not the least abashed nor troubled—on the contrary, with im- mense effrontery—she asked him, with a horrible imprecation, what he wanted ? “Just to show these gentlemen your place, Biddy,” replied the constable. “That’s all gammon,” answered the woman. “ You’re arter some of the kinchins——” “**Pon my honour I’m not,” reioined the officer then in a whisper asiae to the noblemen, he said, “You had better give Biddy Burley a tip, my lords.” Saxondale, who was always ready to flash his money ostentatiously, drew out his purse and gave the woman a sovereign, at sight of which her coun- tenance cheered up wondrously; and she said ** My eyes! you ave swell coves, and no mistake, Come in, and you shall see the ken.” The two noblemen anda the police-constable passed into the house, and found themselves in a narrow passage that went perceptibly sloping down towards a staircase at the end. All this time the sounds of voices had continued to be heard in unabating upreariousness. Shouting, screaming, laughing, swearing, singing, and quarrelling, seemed to be going on in every part of the house, as if it were a veritable pandemonium of little demons. Biddy Burley shut the street-door, and throwing open one leading into the ground floor front room, said, ““ Here’s some swell coves come to see,the place. But they doesn’t belong to the ’Ligidéus Track Siety, cus they’re smoking cigars and doesn’t wear white chokers.” “So much the better. I can’t abear them sneaking, snivelling, canting chaps which only comes to see the young gals in bed, and makes a pertence of ’stributing their papers.” CORMICOOOKSLe@)