The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 343: what you’re looking at

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

LIGHTS AND his usual rounds. The culprits hastily fled, nor drew breath till they reached Faddle’s lodgings, of which he always kept the latch-key. “ Brandy,” groaned Willmott; “brandy, to steady my reeling brain. There is a sea of bloed before my eyes; his last groans will echo through eternity in my ears. God! what have I done!” His companion hastily filled a tumbler with spirit from the sideboard and held it to him, The wretched man approached it to his lips, then suddenly dashed it from him, declaring that the glass was filled with blood, and that he could not drink it. A cold shiver- ing seized him, and, overcome by his feelings, he fainted—the trial was too much for nature to bear eer. “ Fool,” said Faddle, contemptuously spurning the _| body ; “ with ne more courage than a sick girl—not so | much wit as a hound, for that, at least, has the in- | stinct of self-preservation. Would I were fairly rid | of thee!” | The idea of the necessity of disembarrassing himself _ | of one whom, henceforth, he could regard in no other | light than as a clog upon his movements, suddenly struck him, Coolly walking from the dining into the _ | bed-room, he steeped a large towel in water, and, in- stantly returning, held it firmly for a few seconds over the mouth and nostrils of the insensible man, so a3 to stop his respiration. A few minutes and a second murder would have | been accomplished, but the villain suddenly remem- } bered that he had no means of disposing of the body ; _} the Thames was no longer at hand, and changing his | design, he removed the cloth to the brew of his dupe, } and applied brandy to his lips. | Thanks, thanks!” murmured Wilmott, as recol- ) lection returned; “where em 1? with you! Oh! | Faddle,” he added, “I have had such a fearful dream !” ‘| “Jt was no dream; rouse yourself, and be a man— | remember Rose!” | That name seemed to recal his fleeting courage. The thought of her dishonour and despair nerved him, | and after a few desperate efforts and a violent fleod | of tears he rallied to something like composure ‘| Their first care was to change their blood-stained | linen, which was quickly consumed in the fire in the } dining-room, and the remaining marks carefully | sponged from their clothes. By this time it was | nearly daylight. «tay ‘| “Now that you are once mere yourself,” said his | friend, “ let us examine the pocket-book.” They drew towards the table, and spread its con- tents before them. Of the three thousand pounds | whieh the young stranger that night had won, fifteen }) bundred alone remained. Some smaller notes, to the } amount of five hundred pounds, which he had evi- | dently been speculating upon, were most of them | endorsed with the name of Hawk. } © Damn bim for a rascal!” exclaimed Faddle, his } eyes glistening with fury as he saw the name. “ It } is as I expected—the old piant, dressed and feathered ; } the decoy bird has been plumed te deceive us, Stay, there are sume letters. Perhaps we shall learn who the gay spark really was.” ' Several of the letters were in a delicate female hi nd, and breathed the deep devotion of a woman’s | heart when she really loves—loves against hope and | reason. They were replies to promises of a speedy | amendment, and contained passionate protestations of | attachment; they were signed “ Marian.” i 0 look upon them; “ they may betray us.” ; ¢ @ .*~ ee eee . = = . en or as SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE. 341 “ The first seasible word I have heard you utter to- nig*t.” Thrusting them into the fire, he coolly stood by and = them till the last fragment was con- sumed, “* Now, then, for the pocket-book,” he added ; “ that, toe, might tell a tale to hang us.” Before consigning it to the flames, he onee more searched it narrowly, and discovered a secret pocket, carefully hid by the lining. Hastily tearing it open, he found a lock of bright chestnut hair, and a note in the well-known hand-writing of bis dear friend Hawk, The latter was carefully read, while the former was cast contemptuously into the flames, “Right,” said Faddle; “I could have sworn that I was right, and that Hawk was in the plot. See here, the scheming rascal warns him to assume his most aristocratic airs—to play coolly—show mo eagerness-— and above all, not to play a single game on credit; concluding by adding that the game was nearly up, and the pigeons plucked. “ That I should have been so duped !” he continued ; “T that knew the utter worthlessness of the man— knew that in France he escaped from the galleys, and dared not show his face in a single watering-plece in Germany. No matter, we will bave a sure revenge.” “Not by a second murder,” cbserved Wilmott, shuddering; “1 have bad enough of blood already.” “Pshaw! youarea milksop. But in this case set your mind at rest: the law shall be our executioner and avenger.” * What mean you?” “To let Hawk suffer for this night’s work.” “Bat how,—what chance—what hope—what like- lihood—to give a colour to the charge?” The finished man of the world eyed the speaker with ill-disguised contempt. The blind folly with which he had permitted himself to be ruined by his artifices had given him so mean an opinion of his under-tanding, that it almost destroyed the pleasure of his triumph. “Nothing more easy. We left the house nearly an hour before the dead man.” “ Well?” “Hawk was seen, on his quitting the house shortly afterwards, to follow him.” “ By whom ?” demanded the astonished Wilmott. * By Dick.” . “By your servant? why you have not seen him since our return,” “ But I shall see him,” replied Faddle, coolly. “The fellow was waiting for us with my cab. Beiag warm and excited with play, we walked home. Now do you understand ?” “ Imperfectly,” replied the bewildered man. “ But how will that account for his delay ?” “Oh, the rascal remained chatting with some nymph ofthe pave. We shall not fail for want of reasons.” “But will Dick swear to this?” “ Dick will swear to any thing I wish. Thiok yon | I am such a novice as to keep a fellow near my person who either hears or sees but as I bid him? Not quite so green as that. And now that your scattered wits have ence more returned to their deserted nest, bere. take your share of our recovered cash, and away with you at once. I have much to do yet, since my brain must toil, 1 see, for both of us. This will be the worst night’s work for Hawk he ever made, The fifteen LL LLLLLLOLLL LLL LLL LT a ti | : Burn them,” said Wilmott, who could not bear | hundred pounds for which he seld us shall hang him hang him.” ‘CDOO, COT, (©) | | |