The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

— - —— —- --e— - - -+ ~ ~<a eee we _ os —— -_— — “ And what are these measures ?” inquired the lady, anxiously. ; “T will explain myself, ma’am,” returned the officer. “ But first tell me at what o’clock your household usually retires for the night ?” “ On a Sunday evening at half-past ten or eleven at the latest,” was the answer. “Very good, ma’am. Now, this evening please to make it half-past ten,” continued Sampson; “and of course the footman will retire to his own chamber at the same time. ‘This he will naturally do to avoid suspicion. But at eleven o’clock you must be kind enough to steal down from your apartment and open the door — either front or back, whichever there is the least chance of the fellow’s overhearing——” “The front let it be,’ said Mrs. Owen. sleeps at the back of the house.” “Well and good, ma’am: and then I and my men will creep into the dwelling—and you must hide us in some convenient place as near the pantry as possible. Let it be the cellar, if you like ? “T understand,” interrupted Mrs. Owen; “and everything you suggest shall be duly attended to.” “Then I have nothing more to say at present, ma’am,” observed the Bow Street Officer. They now separated—and Mrs. Owen went and called upon a female friend whom she was certain of finding at home, the lady being an invalid. In her company Mrs. Owen whiled away the time until she saw the people returning home from church; and then she retraced her way to her own dwelling. By this little stratagem on her part, the footman could entertain no suspicion that she her- self had been otherwise employed than in the usual manner on the Sunday morning. The hours passed— evening came: and the nearer the momentous period approached, the more nervous did Mrs. Owen feel. But she veiled her excited feelings under a look of perfect com- posure; and John the footman suspected nothing. At half-past ten o’clock she rang the parlour- bell and ordered her maid to attend upon her. his was the signal for the retirement of the household to rest; and as Mrs. Owen was always in the habit of assuring herself that the doors were properly secured—especially since the royal plate had been entrusted to her care—she was always the last to withdraw for the night. She therefore had an opportunity of seeing that the footman as- cended to his room as usual; and in order to lull him the more completely into a false security, she observed as he passed her in the hall, that she should require the carriage to be in readiness im- mediately after breakfast in the morning. The footman made a suitable answer, and con- tinued his way up-stairs, chuckling in his sleeve at what he supposed to be a proof of the utter ab- sence of any suspicion on the part of his mistress. The coachman—tkhe cook—the housemaid, aiso went up to their rooms; and then Mrs. Owen pro- ceeded to her chamber, followed by her abigail. This dependant she however speedily dismissed for the night: and then, enveloping herself in a wrapper, she sate down to wait until eleven o’elock. A train of no very pleasurable reflections now began to pass through her mind. She was beneath the same roof with a consuminate villain who was Ge He THE MYSTERIES OF TILE COURT. 141 already meditating one crime, and who probably would not scruple to commit a deed more heinous still if he had any reason to fancy that he was sus- pected or that his safety was endangered. Her own murder might even enter into the compass of his designs: the hour for the burglary might be earlier than Sampson imagined—it might have been altered by the conspirators—and while de- scending the stairs to admit the officers, she might meet the villains and become their victim. All these reflections traversed her imagination, till her very chamber appeared to be peopled with the ob- jects of terror which she thus conjured up, and which thrust forth their phantom faces from every nook and corner, and from behind every curtain and article of furniture. But all was still throughout the dwelling: and presently her watch informed her that it was eleven o'clock. Holding the taper in one hand and her shoes in another, she issued noiselessly forth from her chamber, and crept as silently down the stairs. The shadow upon the wall terrified her: every in- stant she looked shudderingly round, fearful of being struck by some murderous hand from be- hind her back. But her apprehensions were groundless: and opening the street door, she gave admission to Mr. Lawrence Sampson, who was closely followed by half-a-dozen of his subordinate constables. An immense load was now suddenly lifted from Mrs. Owen’s miud; and she felt as if she had all in a moment been transferred from a predicament of appalling peril to a state of complete security. The front-door was closed as noiselessly as it had been opened; and she conducted the officers down into the lower premises, where they ensconced themselves in a large closet underneath the kitchen-stairs, and used for keeping fire-wood. Mrs. Owen then retraced her stends with the utmost caution to her own chamber, which she succeeded in reaching unmolested : and, locking the door, she sat down to await the result of the adventure. We will now direct the reader’s attention to the footman, who was also sitting up and waiting in his own room at the top of the house. He had pro- vided himself with a bottle of his mistress’s wine, which he was drinking at his ease, little suspecting the trap that had been set to ensnare him. So noiselessly had Mrs. Owen’s proceedings been con- ducted, and so carefully had the constables entered the mansion, that not the slightest sound of an un- usual character reached the ears of Jolin as he sate discussing the fine old Port in his attic. Lulled into complete security, he thus passed the time until within a few minutes of twelve o’clock. He then rose from his seat—assured himself that he had the duplicate key sate in his pocket—and, earrying his shoes in his hand, gently stole down stairs. Pausing to listen at Mrs. Owen’s door, he found that all was still: and, chuckling with the hope of arich booty, he continued his way to the premises below. Lighting a candle,—for he had left his own in his room,—he put on his shoes and at once opened the door of the back kitchen. The Hangman immediately entered the place: the door was closed again ;—and the two villains passed into the pantry adjvining. “You don’t think the old woman suspects any- thing ?” inquired Coffin, in a subdued whisper. “Not a bit of it, Dan’cl,” was the answer, given t \ epee a tebe —EOnnie oOooKSse