The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 156: what you’re looking at

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142 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. in an equally low tone. “She told me as she went up to bed, that the carriage was to be ready im- mediately after breakfast to-morrow morning, But I fancy she'll be in no humour to go out riding —unless it is to Bow Street to lodge an infor- mation.” “Does she look every morning to see that the plate is safe, then?” asked Cofiin. “ Very often—and generally at the beginning of the week. But come along—we won't waste time in chattering. Have you got the bag?” ‘‘ Yes—here it is,’ replied the Hangman, pro- ducing a sack from under his thick coat. “I’ve spoke to Old Jeremy, too—and he’s to have his furnace blazing and his melting-pot ready at five in the morning: but I shall be with him long be. fore that, [ hope. ‘Three hours are enough 4 «“ Are you going to pad it, then?” inquired John, as he put the key into the lock of the iron safe. “TG be sure—all across the fields,” answered the Hangman. “You don’t think Id have a ve- hicle loitering about to excite suspicion. NotI indeed! But come—open that door—and let us catch a glimpse of the pretty things inside.” The footman accordingly opened the safe: but no sooner had the massive door grated on its | hinges, when there was a sudden rush of several | men through the back kitchen—and in the twink- | ling of an eye the pantry was invaded by the con- stables. A terrible imprecation burst from the lips of the Hangman as he recognised Larry Sampson and his official posse: while a groan of horror indi- cated the feelings of the guilty footman. “Take that, you scoundrel!” ejaculated Daniel Coffin, levelling a pistol at Sampson as this re- doubtable officer seized upon the livery-servant. But the ball, missing him for whom it was in- tended, shot the wretched footman through the heart: and with one wild cry, he sprang up and then fell dead at Sampson’s feet. Quick as lightning, and with the desperate strength of a giant, the Hangman burst away from the constables who seized upon him: and rushing forth from the pantry, he bounded through the back kitchen. ‘The officers were at his heels in a moment: but he had just time to bang the door in their face and draw the bolt. Then darting up the stairs, he reached the front door of the house; and as he unchained it, he heard the officers break open the one which he had bolted down below. It was neck or nothing: but he threw open the front door—seized the key—locked it outside—and fled precipitately. The three or four constables who had pursued hin, hearing him lock the front door, rushed into _ the dining-room, tore open the shutters, raised the ' window, and dashed through it in chase of the | fugitive. The night was clear: and they caught a _ glimpse of him as he turned out of the main road into the fields at a little distance. On they sped: again they beheld him—and two or three pistols were instantaneously discharged at him as he ran madly on. But his speed relaxed not: and the balls had evidently taken no effect. Another pistol was fired—then another : and still the Hang- man pursued his desperate way, unhurt and un- scathed by the winged bullets. The pursuit now lay across a wide open field, shelving slightly towards the Thames; and a high hedge bounded it at the extremity in the di- rection of which the Hangman was flying. The constables were advancing diagonally across the field—so that if the fugitive should find the hedge impassable, his retreat would be effectually cut off. Another minute would, to all appearances, decide the matter. With unrelaxing speed, but fearful pantings, | Daniel Coffin skimmed over the meadow: and now the hedge was reached. He glanced behind him for an instant—and his pursuers were still fifty yards distant. He sprang upon the bank where the hedge grew—he looked over the thick barrier —and on the other side was a black ditch, evidently choked with mud, and too wide to enable him toe leap it. “ Better be drowned than suffocated!” was the rapid thought which darted through the brain of the desperate man: and furiously he dashed to- wards the river. | The constables were almost instantaneously at | his heels: that delay at the hedge had diminished the interval between the pursuers and the pur- sued, “We have got him now!” cried one of the officers. | “ No such thing—he’s making for the Thames !” said another : then, raising his voice, he exclaimed, *‘ Dan’el you fool, you'll be drowned !” But scarcely was the terrible warning uttered— and while it was still ringing in the cold, crisp night-air—the Hangman plunged desperately into the river. The next moment the constables were upon the bank of the Thames: but the tide was running strong with the ebb—and Daniel Coffin was already out of sight. *There’s an end of Jack Ketch!” exclaimed one of the constables, as they ail fruitlessly strained their eyes to see if they could catcha glimpse of him appearing anywhere upon the surface of the river: for the hedge and the black ditch prevented them from hastening any farther along the bank. “Yes—he’s done for,” observed another of the officers: and they then retraced their way to Mrs. Owen’s mansion to report the catastrophe. Meantime the entire household had been alarmed by the report of a pistol—the violent banging of the street-door—and the rush of the constables through the hall into the dining-room. Mrs. Owen was the first to descend: and in a few moments the coachman and the female domestics, all half. dressed, were hastening from their rooms to learn what had happened. The tale was soon told: an attempt at robbery—the flight of the burglar— and the death of his accomplice, John the foot- man ! The guilty wretch was indeed no more: it was _ evidently useless to summon medical assistance— | for he was stone dead. ‘There was some hysterical — demonstration amongst the females — especially Mrs. Owen’s lady’s-maid, whom John had courted; but their terrors were dissipated when they found that all danger from the criminals was past, and that the Bow Street officers were in the house. Soon afterwards the constables who had been in pursuit of Daniel Coffin, returned with an ac- count of the result: and the impression naturally was that the villain had met his doom in the depths —— eee ee Ce DN eEEO—eeeeeEEeEeEeEeEE—_EEEEEEEEEEEeEeEEeEeEEEE = ee ——_ < of the Thames, GOMIIGDOOKS