The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 397: what you’re looking at

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

omichookssGo | LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE. “Get the woman out of the way, under pretence of putting the child to bed, while we leave the house ; and if she attempts to follow ——” “T’ll wring her neck first,’ whispered the hag. “Leave her to me. And now, Dick,” she added, “since I am: fly to your plan, you shall see how well 1 cam act my part. You little know what a treasure you married in me. My first husband was a « Was he?” said Dick, “Only he met with an accident early one morn- ing. Hanged?" “Ah! that accounts for my never having heard him mentioned by her before,” thought his successor to himself. Had he known that his affectionate wife had sold him to justice, and commenced business with the reward, he might have repented of his late While this thought was passing through her has- band’s head, the lady unlocked a small drawer at the bottom of a chest, which stood in a closet near the bar, and from Pig a@ crowbar and centrebit, of finely 3 they had been the favourite i ne ee area tt ae relics, “There’s beauties!” she exclaimed, as she placed them in the hands of his successor. “What are these for?’’ demanded the astonished Dick, who was quite new to the trade. “ What are they for!” repeated the woman, with a look of contempt at his ignorance; “ well, that beats every thing I ever heard afore. What are they for? Why, a cracksman’s stock in trade, you fool!” “I see, I see—housebreaking tools; they may be useful.” “Of course they will be useful. Come,” said the woman, “‘let us back to the ken, or the coves may take the alarm. Return here with the swag, Dick,” she added, “and I’ll see that you are not robbed out ef your share.” “T shall leave that to you, darling,” said her hus- band, with a smile. “ You may.” With these words the affectionate pair, who were mutually planning to betray each other, returned to the inner room, Dick bringing a bottle of gin in his hand by way of excuse. “Why, marm,” said the landlady, as soon as she was seated, “you don’t take enough to wet the whistle of a sparrow. Try a little neat.” “ Not a drop, I thank you,” replied Rose. “ Well, then,” added the woman, filling out a glass of gin, and offering it to the boy, “let the young one have it; it will do him good; he will sleep iike a top after it. I always does—don’t I, Dick?” “ Always, my love.” «“ No, no,” eagerly interrupted Rose, at the same time drawing the boy, who was half asleep, to her bosom; “he is unused to drink, and will be better without it. It is rest—rest that he requires,’’ * Wife, are the beds ready ?” “Of course they are,” said the landlady. “As you are friends of Dick, marm, lam not agoing to put you with the sixpenny and fourpenny varmints in the other cellar; but in a bed a queen might lie in; and there is a cot by the side that will just do for the young one.”’ At the extreme end of the reom was a small door fe which opened into a recess fitted up as a chamber, with some degree of neatness, at any rate in com- parison with the rest of the accommodations of the miserable place; fer the walls were whitewashed, and the coverlid of the bed appeared clean, though common. “Thanks!” said Rose, rousing up her gon and leading him te the bed. “I shall not be a moment, Wilmott,” she added; “ he is all but asleep already.” No sooner had Rose entered the recess, than the landlady hastily closed the door and drew the bolt, She was a prisoner. “ Now then, away!” exclaimed the hag, “ Wilmott! Wilmott!” called Rose from the cell. “Never mind her,” said Faddle; “the opportunity may not occur again.” “You will net ill-use her!’ exclaimed the be- wildered husband, addressing the landlady. “* This way, sir,” said Dick ; “ she will be safe enough till our return.” Persuaded by his two companions, Wilmott left the house, despite the frantic entreaties of his wife, whose shrieks, long after his departure, echoed through the low-arched cellars. “Damn her!” muttered the harridan, alarmed at her cries, lest they should disturb the house; “I must silence her, or we shall have the police upon us and spoil all.” Taking up a sharp carving-knife from the table, she coolly tucked up her sleeves and undid the fasten- ing of the door. “What are you yelling in that way for?” de- manded the landlady. “Whereis my husband?” inquired Rose. * Out on business,” replied the woman. “ Business!” repeated Rose; “I know the kind of business he is gone upon—robbery, and perhaps murder. I must after him!” “No you don't,” said the landlady, resolutely bar- ring her passage; “we are not agoing to have a slap- up affair spoiled through yeur equeamishnese, Take it quietly ; it will be all the better for you.” “ Who shall prevent me?”’ “T will.” “ Would you murder me?” “ Not unless I am obliged. I don’t want to hurt a hair of your head; but if you force me,” said ‘the fury, “I would as soon cut your throat as look at you,’ “Would you, Mother Hell-cat!” exclaimed a voice near her. Tae landlady turned round, and found herself, to her astonishment, in the grasp of a tall Irishman, whose dress indicated that he had been a soldier. The poor fellow, it appeared, was one of the discharged Spanish Legion, who had been left to beg his bread about the streets by those whe had engaged his services, He had heard Rose’s cries for help, and suspecting something wrong, had left his bed to see fair play. Despite the desperate.struggles of the landlady, he succeeded in di ing her, but net before she had twice wounded himin the arm. “ Thanks, thanks!” sobbed Rose, who, at the sight ef blood, had sunk half-fainting intoa chair; “are you much hurt?” “Is it the scratch you mean?’’ said the fellow; “never dim your pretty eyes with a tear for that; sure I mind it no more than the bite of a wild cat, or any otherkind of varmint. Whatcan I do for you?” “Protect my boy from this woman’s fury, while I go and seck my husband.” 395 im