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THE
Recollections
OF A
POLICEMALY.
BY
THOMAS WATERS,
An Inspector of the London Detective Corps.
NEW YORK:
CORNISH, LAMPORT & Co., PUBLISHERS,
No. 8, PARK PLACE.
1852.


PR5271
RE
1852
MAIN


Preface.
Some of the tales included in this volume
have already appeared in some of our American
Magazines, and proved exceedingly popular. It
is believed they deserve a more permanent form,
—that this collection will gratify those familiar
with their merits, and interest and instruct those
whose attention is now for the first time directed
to them. The Detective Policeman is in some
respects peculiar to England-one of the develop-
ments of the last twenty-five years. He differs
as much from the informer and spy of the
Continent of Europe, as the modern Protective
Policeman does from the old fashioned Watch-
man. In point of fact, he is a preventive as
much as a detective. His occupation is as hon-
orable as it is dangerous. Its difficulties and
danger give it an odor of the romantic. The
record of “hair-breadth 'scapes,” which follow,
is another verification of the old saying, “ Truth
is stranger than fiction.”
man.
Stereotyped by Vincent Dill, Jr., No. 21 & 23 Ann Street.
M116208





Partd.
THE GAMBLER.
A LITTLE more than a year after the period when adverse
circumstances—chiefly the result of my own reckless follies
compelled me to enter the ranks of the metropolitan police, as
the sole means left me of procuring food and raiment, the at-
tention of one of the principal chiefs of the force was attracted
towards me by the ingenuity and boldness which I was supposed
to have manifested in hitting upon and unraveling a clue which
ultimately led to the detection and punishment of the perpetra-
tors of an artistically-contrived fraud upon an eminent trades-
man of the west end of London. The chief sent for me; and
after a somewhat lengthened conversation, not only expressed
approbation of my conduct in the particular matter under dis-
cussion, but hinted that he might shortly need my services in
other affairs requiring intelligence and resolution.
“I think I have met you before,” he remarked with a meaning
smile on dismissing me," when you occupied a different position
from your present one? Do not alarm yourself: I have no
wish to pry unnecessarily into other men's secrets. Waters is
a name common enough in all ranks of society, and I may, you
know”_here the cold smile deepened in ironical expression-
“ be mistaken. At all events, the testimony of the gentleman
whose recommendation obtained you admission to the force-I


THE GAMBLER.
have looļied into the matter since I heard of your behavior in
the late business is a sufficient guarantee that nothing more
: sežigus than imprudence and folly can be laid to your charge.
I have neither right nor inclination to inquire further. To-
morrow, in all probability, I shall send for you.”
I came to the conclusion, as I walked homewards, that the
chief's intimation of having previously met me in a another
sphere of life was a random and unfounded one, as I had seldom
visited London in my prosperous days, and still more rarely
mingled in its society. My wife, however, to whom I of course
related the substance of the conversation, reminded me that he
had once been at Doncaster during the races; and suggested
that he might possibly have seen and noticed me there. This
was a sufficiently probable explanation of the hint; but whether
the correct one or not, I cannot decide, as he never afterwards
alluded to the subject, and I had not the slightest wish to re-
new it.
Three days elapsed before I received the expected summons.
On waiting on him, I was agreeably startled to find that I was
to be at once employed on a mission which the most sagacious
and experienced of detective-officers would have felt honored to
undertake.
“Here is a written description of the persons of this gang of
blacklegs, swindlers, and forgers,” concluded the commissioner,
summing up his instructions. “It will be your object to discover
their private haunts, and secure legal evidence of their nefarious
practices. We have been hitherto baffled, principally, I think,
through the too hasty zeal of the officers employed: you must
especially avoid that error. They are practised scoundrels; and
it will require considerable patience, as well as acumen, to un-
kennel and bring them to justice. One of their more recent


THE GAMBLER.
victims is young Mr. Merton, son, by a former marriage, of the
Dowager Lady Everton.* Her ladyship has applied to us for
assistance in extricating him from the toils in which he is meshed.
You will call on her at five o'clock this afternoon—in plain
clothes of course—and obtain whatever information on the sub-
ject she may be able to afford. Remember to communicate
directly with me; and any assistance you may require shall be
promptly rendered.” With these, and a few other minor direc-
tions, needless to recapitulate, I was dismissed to a task which,
difficult and possibly perilous as it might prove, I hailed as a de-
lightful relief from the wearing monotony and dull routine of
ordinary duty.
I hástened home; and after dressing with great care—the
best part of my wardrobe had been fortunately saved by Emily
from the wreck of my fortunes—I proceeded to Lady Everton's
mansion. I was immediately marshalled to the drawing-room,
where I found her ladyship and her daughter—a beautiful, fairy-
looking girl-awaiting my arrival. Lady Everton appeared
greatly surprised at my appearance, differing, as I daresay it
altogether did, from her abstract idea of a policeman, however
attired or disguised; and it was not till she had perused the note
of which I was the bearer, that her haughty and incredulous
stare became mitigated to a glance of lofty condescendent civility.
“Be seated, Mr. Waters,” said her ladyship, waving me to a
chair. “This note informs me that you have been selected for
the duty of endeavoring to extricate my son from the perilous
entanglements in which he has unhappily involved himself.”
I was about to reply—for I was silly enough to feel somewhat
nettled at the noble lady's haughtiness of manner—that I was
* The names mentioned in this narrative are, for obvious reasons, fictitious.


THE GAMBLER.
engaged in the public service of extirpating a gang of swindlers
with whom her son had involved himself, and was there to pro-
cure from her ladyship any information she might be possessed
of likely to forward so desirable a result; but fortunately the
remembrance of my actual position, spite of my gentleman's
attire, flashed vividly upon my mind; and instead of permitting
my glib tongue to wag irreverently in the presence of a right
honorable, I bowed with deferential acquiescence.
Her ladyship proceeded, and I in substance obtained the fol-
lowing information :-
Mr. Charles Merton, during the few months which had elapsed
since the attainment of his majority, had very literally “fallen
amongst thieves.” A passion for gambling seemed to have taken
taken entire possession of his being; and almost every day, as
well as night, of his haggard and feverish life was passed at play.
A run of ill-luck, according to his own belief- but in very truth
a run of downright robbery—had set in against him, and he had
not only dissipated all the ready money which he had inherited,
and the large sums which the foolish indulgence of his lady-
mother had supplied him with, but had involved himself in
bonds, bills, and other obligations to a frightful amount. The
principal agent in effecting this ruin was one Sandford—a man
of fashionable and dashing exterior, and the presiding spirit of
the knot of desperadoes whom I was commissioned to hunt out.
Strange to say, Mr. Merton had the blindest reliance upon this
man's honor; and even now—tricked, despoiled as he had been
by him and his gang-relied upon his counsel and assistance for
escape from the desperate position in which he was involved.
The Everton estates had passed, in default of male issue, to a
distant relative of the late lord; so that ruin, absolute and ir-
remediable, stered both the wretched dupe and his relatives in


THE GAMBLER.
the face. Lady Everton's jointure was not a very large one,
and her son had been permitted to squander sums which should
have been devoted to the discharge of claims which were now
pressed harshly against her.
I listened with the deepest interest to Lady Everton's narra-
tive. Repeatedly during the course of it, as she incidentally
alluded to the manners and appearance of Sandford, who had
been introduced by Mr. Merton to his mother and sister, a sus-
picion, which the police papers had first awakened, that the
gentleman in question was an old acquaintance of my own, and
one, moreover, whose favors I was extremely desirous to return
in kind, flashed with increased conviction across my mind. This
surmise I of course kept to myself; and after emphatically
cautioning the ladies to keep our proceedings a profound secret
from Mr. Merton, I took my leave, amply provided with the
resources requisite for carrying into effect the scheme which I had
resolved upon. I also arranged that, instead of waiting personally
on her ladyship, which might excite observation and suspicion, I
should report progress by letter through the post.
“If it should be he!” thought I, as I emerged into the street.
The bare suspicion had sent the blood through my veins with
furious violence. “If this Sandford be, as I suspect, that villain
Cardon, success will indeed be triumph-victory! Lady Everton
need not in that case seek to animate my zeal by promises of
money recompense. A blighted existence, a young and gentle
wife by his means cast down from opulence to sordid penury,
would stimulate the dullest craven that ever crawled the earth
to energy and action. Pray Heaven my suspicion prove correct;
and then, oh mine enemy, look well to yourself, for the avenger
is at your heels!”
Sandford, I had been instructed was usually present at the


10
THE GAMBLER.
Italian Opera during the ballet: the box he generally occupied
was designated in the memoranda of the police: and as I saw
by the bills that a very successful piece was to be performed that
evening, I determined on being present.
I entered the house a few minutes past ten o'clock, just after
the commencement of the ballet, and looked eagerly round.
The box in which I was instructed to seek my man was empty.
The momentary disappointment was soon repaid. Five minutes
had not elapsed when Cardon, looking more insolently-triumphant
than ever, entered arm-in-arm with a pale aristocratic-looking
young man, whom I had no difficulty, from his striking resem-
blance to a portrait in Lady Everton's drawing-room, in deciding
to be Mr. Merton. My course of action was at once determined
on. Pausing only to master the emotion which the sight of the
glittering reptile in whose poisonous folds I had been involved
and crushed inspired, I passed to the opposite side of the house,
and boldly entered the box. Cardon's back was towards me,
and I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He turned quickly
round; and if a basilisk had confronted him, he could scarcely
have exhibited greater terror and surprise. My aspect, never-
theless, was studiously bland and conciliating, and my out-
stretched hand seemed to invite a renewal of our old friendship.
“Waters !” he at last stammered, feebly accepting my prof-
fered grasp_" who would have thought of meeting you here ? "
“Not you, certainly, since you stare at an old friend as if he
were some frightful goblin about to swallow you. Really”—
“Hush! Let us speak together in the lobby. An old friend,"
he added in answer to Mr. Merton's surprised stare. “We will
return in an instant."
“Why, what is all this, Waters ? ” said Cardon, recovering
his wonted sang froid the instant we were alone. “I understood


THE GAMBLER.
11
you had retired from amongst us; were in fact—what shall I
say?"
you."
“My good fellow, you do not imagine"-
“I imagine nothing, my dear Cardon. I was very thoroughly
done~done brown, as it is written in the vulgar tongue. But
fortunately my kind old uncle ”—
“Passgrove is dead !” interrupted my old acquaintance,
eagerly jumping to a conclusion, “and you are his heir! I con-
gratulate you, my dear fellow. This is indeed a charming re-
verse of circumstances.?"
“Yes; but mind I have given up the old game. No more
dice-devilry for me. I have promised Emily never even to
touch a card again.”
The cold, hard eye of the incarnate fiend-he was little else-
gleamed mockingly as these “good intentions” of a practised
gamester fell upon his ear ; but he only replied, “Very good;
quite right, my dear boy. But come, let me introduce you to
Mr. Merton, a highly connected personage I assure you. By
the by, Waters,” he added in a caressing, confidential tone,
“my name, for family and other reasons, which I will hereafter
explain to you, is for the present Sandford.”
" Sandford !"
“Yes : do not forget. But allons, or the ballet will be over.”
I was introduced in due form to Mr. Merton as an old and
esteemed friend, whom he-Sandford—had not seen for many
months. At the conclusion of the ballet, Sandford proposed
that we should adjourn to the European Coffee-house, nearly
opposite. This was agreed to, and out we sallied. At the top
of the staircase we jostled against the commissioner, who, like


THE GAMBLER.
us, was leaving the house. He bowed slightly to Mr. Merton's
apology, and his eye wandered briefly and coldly over our per-
sons; but not the faintest sign of interest or recognition escaped
him. I thought it possible he did not know me in my changed
apparel; but looking back after descending a few steps, I was
quickly undeceived. A sharp, swift glance, expressive both of
encouragement and surprise, shot out from under his perthouse
brows, and as swiftly vanished. He did not know how little I
needed spurring to the goal we had both in view!
We discussed two or three bottles of wine with much gaiety
and relish. Sandford especially was in exuberant spirits; brim-
ming over with brilliant anecdote and sparkling badinage. He
saw in me a fresh, rich prey, and his eager spirit revelled by
anticipation in the victory which he nothing doubted to obtain
over my “excellent intentions and wife-pledged virtue.” About
half-past twelve o'clock he proposed to adjourn. This was
eagerly assented to by Mr. Merton, who had for some time ex-
hibited unmistakeable symptoms of impatience and unrest.
“You will accompany us, Waters ? ” said Sandford, as we
rose to depart. “There is, I suppose, no vow registered in the
matrimonial archives against looking on at a game played by
others ? "
“Oh no; but don't ask me to play.”
“Certainly not;" and a devilish sneer curled his lip. “Your
virtue shall suffer no temptation be assured.”
We soon arrived before the door of a quiet, respectable look-
ing house in one of the streets leading from the Strand : a low
peculiar knock, given by Sandford, was promptly answered ;
then a password, which I did not catch, was whispered by him
through the key-hole, and we passed in.
We proceeded up stairs to the first floor, the shutters of which
way."


14
THE GAMBLER.
entertain the slightest suspicion of the "fair-play” of his oppo-
nents, guiding himself entirely by the advice of his friend and
counsellor, Sandford, who did not himself play. The amiable
assemblage broke up about six in the morning, each person retir-
ing singly by the back way, receiving, as he departed, a new
password for the next evening.
A few hours afterwards, I waited on the commissioner to re-
port the state of affairs. He was delighted with the fortunate
début I had made, but still strictly enjoined patience and cau-
tion. It would have been easy, as I was in possession of the
password, to have surprised the confederacy in the act of gam-
ing that very evening; but this would only have accomplished
a part of the object aimed at. Several of the fraternity—Sand-
ford amongst the number—were suspected of uttering forged
foreign bank-notes, and it was essential to watch narrowly for
legal evidence to insure their conviction. It was also desirable
to restore, if possible, the property and securities of which Mr.
Merton had been pillaged.
Nothing of especial importance occurred for seven or eight
days. Gaming went on as usual every evening, and Mr. Merton
became of course more and more involved: even his sister's
jewels—which he had surreptitiously obtained, to such a depth
of degredation will this frightful vice plunge men otherwise
honorable—had been staked and lost; and he was, by the advice
of Sandford, about to conclude a heavy mortgage on his estate,
in order not only to clear off his enormous debts of honor,'
but to acquire fresh means of winning back '--that ignus-fatuus
of all gamblers--his tremendous losses ! A new preliminary
dodge' was, I observed, now brought into action. Mr. Merton
esteemed himself a knowing hand at ecarté : it was introduced ;
and he was permitted to win every game he played, much to the


THE GAMBLER.
15
apparent annoyance and discomfiture of the losers. As this was
precisely the snare into which I had myself fallen, I of course
the more readily detected it, and felt quite satisfied that a grand
coup was meditated. In the meantime I had not been idle.
Sandford was confidentially informed that I was only waiting in
London to receive between four and five thousand pounds-part
of Uncle Passgrove's legacy—and then intended to immediately
hasten back to canny Yorkshire. To have seen the villain's
eyes as I incidentally, as it were, announced my errand and in-
tention! They fairly flashed with infernal glee! Ah, Sandford,
Sandford ! you were, with all your cunning, but a sand-blind
idiot to believe the man you had wronged and ruined could so
easily forget the debt he owed you !
The crisis came swiftly on. Mr. Merton's mortgage-money
was to be paid on the morrow; and on that day, too, I announced
the fabulous thousands receivable by me were to be handed over.
Mr. Merton, elated by his repeated triumphs at ecarté, and
prompted by his friend Sandford, resolved, instead of cancelling
the bonds and obligations held by the conspirators, to redeem
his losses by staking on that game his ready money against those
liabilities. This was at first demurred to with much apparent
earnestness by the winners ; but Mr. Merton, warmly seconded
by Sandford, insisting upon the concession, as he deemed it, it
was finally agreed that ecarté should be the game by which he
might hope to regain the fortune and the peace of mind he had
so rashly squandered: the last time, should he be successful
and was he not sure of success ?-he assured Sandford, that he
would ever handle cards or dice. He should have heard the
mocking merriment with which the gang heard Sandford repeat
this resolution to amend his ways—when he had recovered back
his wealth!


16
THE GAMBLER.
The day so eagerly longed for by Merton and the confeder-
ates—by the spoilers and their prey-arrived; and I awaited
with feverish anxiety the coming on of night. Only the chief
conspirators-eight in number-were to be present; and no
stranger except myself—a privilege I owed to the moonshine
legacy I had just received—was to be admitted to this crowning
triumph of successful fraud. One only hint I had ventured to
give Mr. Merton, and that under a promise, "on his honor as
a gentleman,' of inviolable secrecy. It was this: "Be sure,
before commencing play to-morrow night, that the bonds and
obligations you have signed, the jewels you have lost, with a sum
in notes or gold to make up an equal amount to that which you
mean to risk, is actually deposited on the table.” He promised
to insist on this condition. It involved much more than he
dreamt of.
My arrangements were at length thoroughly complete ; and
a few minutes past twelve o'clock the whispered password ad-
mitted me into the house. An angry altercation was going on.
Mr. Merton was insisting, as I had advised, upon the exhibition
of a sum equal to that which he had brought with him—for,
confident of winning, he was determined to recover his losses to
the last farthing ; and although his bonds, bills, obligations, his
sister's jewels, and a large amount in gold and genuine notes,
were produced, there was still a heavy sum deficient. “Ah, by
the by,” exclaimed Sandford as I entered, “Waters can lend
you the sum for an hour or two--for a consideration,” he added
in a whisper. “It will soon be returned.”
“No, thank you,” I answered coldly. “I never part with
my money till I have lost it.”
A malignant scowl passed over the scoundrel's features ; but
he made no reply. Ultimately it was decided that one of the


THE GAMBLER.
17
fraternity should be despatched in search of the required amount.
He was gone about half an hour, and returned with a bundle of
notes. They were, as I hoped and expected, forgeries on for-
eign banks. Mr. Merton looked at and counted them; and play
commenced.
As it went on, so vividly did the scene' recall the evening that
had sealed my own ruin, that I grew dizzy with excitement, and
drained tumbler after tumbler of water to allay the fevered
throbbing of my veins. The gamblers were fortunately too
much absorbed to heed my agitation. Merton lost continuously
—without pause or intermission. The stakes were doubled-
trebled—quadrupled! His brain was on fire ; and he played,
or rather lost, with the recklessness of a madman.
“Hark! what's that ? " suddenly exclaimed Sandford, from
whose Satanic features the mask he had so long worn before
Merton had been gradually slipping. “Did you not hear a noise
below?"
My ear had caught the sound; and I could better interpret
it than he. It ceased.
“ Touch the signal-bell, Adolphe,” added Sandford.
Not only the play, but the very breathing of the villains, was
suspended as they listened for the reply
It came. The answering tinkle sounded once-twice-thrice.
“ All right!" shouted Sandford. “Proceed! The farce is
nearly played out.”
I had instructed the officers that two of them in plain clothes
should present themselves at the front door, obtain admission by
means of the password I had given them, and immediately seize
and gag the door-keeper. I had also acquainted them with the
proper answer to the signal-wring--three distinct pulls at the
bell-handle communicating with the first floor. Their comrades


THE GAMBLER.
were then to be admitted, and they were all to silently ascend
the stairs, and wait on the landing till summoned by me to enter
and seize the gamesters. The back entrance to the house was
also securely but unobtrusively watched.
One only fear disturbed me: it was lest the scoundrels should
take alarm in sufficient time to extinguish the lights, destroy the
forged papers, and possibly escape by some private passage
which might, unknown to me, exist.
Rousing myself, as soon as the play was resumed, from the
trance of memory by which I had been in some sort absorbed,
and first ascertaining that the handles of my pistols were within
easy reach--for I knew I was playing a desperate game with
desperate men—I rose, stepped carelessly to the door, partially
opened it, and bent forward, as if listening for a repetition of
the sound which had so alarmed the company. To my great
delight the landing and stairs were filled with police officers-
silent and stern as death. I drew back, and walked towards
the table at which Mr. Merton was seated. The last stake-an
enormous one-was being played for. Merton lost. He sprang
upon his feet, death-pale, despairing, overwhelmed, and a hoarse
execration surged through his clenched teeth. Sandford and his
associates coolly raked the plunder together, their features lighted
up with fiendish glee.
“ Villain !—traitor !—miscreant !” shrieked Mr. Merton,
as if smitten with sudden frenzy, and darting at Sandford's
throat: “you, devil that you are, have undone, destroyed
me!”
“No doubt of it,” calmly replied Sandford, shaking off his
victim's grasp; " and I think it has been very artistically and
effectually done too. Snivelling, my fine fellow, will scarcely
help you much."


THE GAMBLER.
Mr. Merton glared upon the taunting villain in speechless
agony and rage.
“Not quite so fast, Cardon, if you please," I ex-
claimed, at the same time taking up a bundle of forged notes.
“ It does not appear to me that Mr. Merton has played
against equal stakes, for unquestionably this paper is not
genuine.”
“Dog!” roared Sandford, “ do you hold your life so
cheap?” and he rushed towards me, as if to seize the forged
notes.
I was as quick as he, and the levelled tube of a pistol sharply
arrested his eager onslaught. The entire gang gathered near
us, flaming with excitement. Mr. Merton looked bewilderedly
from one to another, apparently scarcely conscious of what was
passing around him.
“Wrench the papers from him !” screamed Sandford, re-
covering his energy. “Seize him—stab, strangle him!”
“Look to yourself, scoundrel ! ” I shouted with equal vehe-
mence. “Your hour is come! Officers, enter and do your
duty !”
In an instant the room was filled with police ; and sur-
prised, panic-stricken, paralysed by the suddenness of the
catastrophe, the gang were all secured without the slightest
resistance, though most of them were armed, and marched off
in custody.
Three—Sandford, or Cardon; but he had half-a-dozen aliases,
one of them-were transported for life : the rest were sentenced
to various terms of imprisonment. My task was effectually
accomplished. My superiors were pleased to express very warm
commendation of the manner in which I had acquitted myself ;
and the first step in the promotion which ultimately led to my


Part II.
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
A FEW weeks after the lucky termination of the Sandford affair,
I was engaged in the investigation of a remarkable case of burg-
lary, accompanied by homicide, which had just occurred at the
residence of Mr. Bagshawe, a gentleman of competent fortune,
situated within a few miles of Kendal in Westmoreland. The
particulars forwarded to the London police authorities by the
local magistracy were chiefly these :-
Mr. Bagshawe, who had been some time absent at Leaming-
ton, Warkwickshire, with his entire establishment, wrote to
Sarah King—a young woman left in charge of the house and
property—to announce his own speedy return, and at the same
time directing her to have a particular bedroom aired, and other
household matters arranged for the reception of his nephew, Mr.
Robert Bristowe, who, having just arrived from abroad, would,
he expected, leave London immediately for Five Oaks' House.
The positive arrival of this nephew had been declared to several
tradesmen of Kendal by King early in the day preceding the
night of the murder and robbery; and by her directions butcher-
meat, poultry, fish, and so on, had been sent by them to Five
Oaks for his table The lad who carried the fish home stated
that he had seen a strange young gentleman in one of the sitting-
rooms on the ground-floor through the half-opened door of the
apartment. On the following morning it was discovered that
Five Oaks' House had been, not indeed broken into, but broken


GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
out of. This was evident from the state of the door fastenings,
and the servant-woman barbarously murdered. The neighbors
found her lying quite dead and cold at the foot of the principal
staircase, clothed only in her nightgown and stockings, and with
a flat chamber candlestick tightly grasped in her right hand. It
was conjectured that she had been roused from sleep by some
noise below, and having descended to ascertain the cause, had
been mercilessly slain by the disturbed burglars. Mr. Bagshawe
arrived on the following day, and it was then found that not only
a large amount of plate, but between three and four thousand
pounds in gold and notes--the produce of government stock sold
out about two months previously—had been carried off. The
only person, except his niece, who lived with him, that knew
there was this sum in the house, was his nephew Robert Bris-
towe, to whom he had written, directing his letter to the Hum-
mums Hotel, London, stating that the sum for the long-contem-
plated purchase of Ryland's had been some time lying idle at
Five Oaks, as he had wished to consult him upon his bargain
before finally concluding it. This Mr. Robert Bristowe was now
nowhere to be seen or heard of; and what seemed to confirm
beyond a doubt the—to Mr. Bagshawe and his niece—torturing,
horrifying suspicion that this nephew was the burglar and assas-
sin, a portion of the identical letter written to him by his uncle
was found in one of the offices! As he was nowhere to be met
with or heard of in the neighborhood of Kendal, it was surmised
that he must have returned to London with his booty; and a
full description of his person, and the dress he wore, as given
by the fishmonger's boy, was sent to London by the authorities.
They also forwarded for our use and assistance one Josiah Barnes,
a sly, sharp, vagabond-sort of fellow, who had been apprehended
on suspicion, chiefly, or rather wholly, because of his former in-


GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
timacy with the unfortunate Sarah King, who had discarded him,
it seemed, on account of his incorrigibly idle, and in other re-
spects disreputable habits. The alibi he set up was, however,
so clear and decisive, that he was but a few hours in custody;
and he now exhibited great zeal for the discovery of the murderer
of the woman to whom he had, to the extent of his perverted
instincts, been sincerely attached He fiddled at the festivals
of the humbler Kendalese ; sang, tumbled, ventriloquized at
their tavern orgies ; and had he not been so very highly-gifted,
might, there was little doubt, have earned a decent living as a
carpenter, to which profession his father, by dint of much exer-
tion, had about half-bred him. His principal use to us was, that
he was acquainted with the features of Mr. Robert Bristowe;
and accordingly, as soon as I had received my commission and
instructions, I started off with him to the Hummums Hotel,
Covent Garden. In answer to my inquiries, it was stated that
Mr. Robert Bristowe had left the hotel a week previously with-
out settling his bill—which was, however, of very small amount,
as he usually paid every evening—and had not since been heard
of; neither had he taken his luggage with him. This was odd,
though the period stated would have given him ample time to
reach Westmoreland on the day it was stated he had arrived
there.
“What dress did he wear when he left ?"
“ That which he usually wore : a foraging-cap with a gold
band, a blue military surtout coat, light trousers, and Wellington
boots.
The precise dress described by the fishmonger's errand-boy!
We next proceeded to the Bank of England, to ascertain if any
of the stolen notes had been presented for payment. I handed
in a list of the numbers furnished by Mr. Bagshawe, and was


24
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
politely informed that they had all been cashed early the day
before by a gentleman in a sort of undress uniform, and wearing
a foraging cap. Lieutenant James was the name indorsed upon
them; and the address Harley Street, Cavendish Square, was
of course a fictitious one. The cashier doubted if he should be
able to swear to the person of the gentleman who changed the
notes, but he had particularly noticed his dress. I returned to
Scotland Yard to report no progress; and it was then determined
to issue bills descriptive of Bristowe's person, and offering a con-
siderable reward for his apprehension, or such information as
might lead to it; but the order had scarcely been issued, when
who should we see walking deliberately down the yard towards
the police-office but Mr. Robert. Bristowe himself, dressed pre-
cisely as before described! I had just time to caution the in-
spector not to betray any suspicion, but to hear his story, and
let him quietly depart, and to slip with Josiah Barnes out of
sight, when he entered, and made a formal but most confused
complaint of having been robbed something more than a week
previously—where or by whom he knew not-and afterwards
deceived, bamboozled, and led astray in his pursuit of the rob-
bers, by a person whom he now suspected to be a confederate
with them. Even of this latter personage he could afford no
tangible information ; and the inspector, having quietly listened
to his statement-intended, doubtless, as a mystification—told
him the police should make inquiries, and wished him good-
morning. As soon as he had turned out of Scotland Yard by
the street leading to the Strand, I was upon his track. He
walked slowly on, but without pausing, till he reached the Sar-
acen's Head, Snow-Hill, where, to my great astonishment, he
booked himself for Westmoreland by the night-coach. He then
walked into the inn, and seating himself in the coffee-room,


26
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
places vacant, secured them both for James Jenkins and Josiah
Barnes, countrymen and friends of mine returning to the “north
countrie.”
I returned to the coffee-room, where Mr. Bristowe was still
seated, apparently in deep and anxious meditation, and wrote a
note, with which I despatched the inn porter. I had now ample
leisure for observing the suspected burglar and assassin. He
was a pale, intellectual-looking, and withal handsome young
man, of about six-and-twenty years of age, of slight but well-
knit frame, and with the decided air-travel-stained and jaded
as he appeared-of a gentleman. His look was troubled and
careworn, but I sought in vain for any indication of the starting,
nervous tremor always in my experience exhibited by even old
practitioners in crime when suddenly accosted. Several persons
had entered the room hastily, without causing him even to look
up. I determined to try an experiment on his nerves, which I
was quite satisfied no man who had recently committed a mur-
der, and but the day before changed part of the produce of that
crime into gold at the Bank of England, could endure without
wincing. My object was, not to procure evidence producible in
a court of law by such means, but to satisfy my own mind. I
felt a growing conviction that, spite of appearances, the young
man was guiltless of the deed imputed to him, and might be the
victim, I could not help thinking, either of some strange combi-
nation of circumstances, or, more likely, of a diabolical plot for
his destruction, essential, possibly, to the safety of the real per-
petrators of the crime ; very probably—so ran my suspicions
friends and acquaintances of the three gentlemen who were to
be our fellow-travelers. My duty, I knew, was quite as much
the vindication of innocence as the detection of guilt; and if I
could satisfy myself that he was not the guilty party, no effort


GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
27
of mine should be wanting, I determined, to extricate him from
the perilous position in which he stood. I went out of the room,
and remained absent for some time ; then suddenly entered with
a sort of bounce, walked swiftly, and with a determined air,
straight up to the box where he was seated, grasped him tightly
by the arm, and exclaimed roughly, “So I have found you at
last !” There was no start, no indication of fear whatever-
not the slightest; the expression of his countenance, as he peer-
ishly replied, “What the devil do you mean?” was simply one
of surprise and annoyance.
“I beg your pardon," I replied ; "the waiter told me a friend
of mine, one Bagshawe, who has given me the slip, was here,
and I mistook you for him.”
He courteously accepted my apology, quietly remarking at the
same time that though his own name was Bristowe, he had, oddly
enough, an uncle in the country of the same name as the person
I had mistaken him for. Surely, thought I, this man is guilt-
less of the crime imputed to him ; and yet At this mo-
ment the porter entered to announce the arrival of the gentleman
I had sent for. I went out; and after giving the new-comer
instructions not to lose sight of Mr. Bristowe, hastened home to
Transformed, by the aid of a flaxen wig, broad-brimmed hat,
green spectacles, and a multiplicity of waistcoats and shawls, into
a heavy and elderly, well-to-do personage, I took my way with
Josiah Barnes—whom I had previously thoroughly drilled as to
speech and behavior towards our companions to the Saracen's
Head a few minutes previous to the time for starting. We
found Mr. Bristowe already seated ; but the “ three friends,” I
observed, were curiously looking on, desirous no doubt of ascer-
taining who were to be their fellow-travelers before venturing tn


28
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
coop themselves up in a space so narrow, and, under certain cir-
cumstances, so difficult of egress. My appearance and that of
Barnes—who, sooth to say, looked much more of a simpleton
than he really was quite reassured them, and in they jumped
with confident alacrity. A few minutes afterwards the “all
right” of the attending ostlers gave the signal for departure, and
away we started.
A more silent, less social party I never assisted at. What-
ever amount of “feast of reason” each or either of us might
have silently enjoyed, not a drop of “flow of soul” welled up
from one of the six insides. Every passenger seemed to have
his own peculiar reasons for declining to display himself in either
mental or physical prominence. Only one or two incidents
apparently unimportant, but which I carefully noted down in the
tablet of my memory--occurred during the long, wearisome
- journey, till we stopped to dine at about thirty miles from
Kendal ; when I ascertained, from an over-heard conversation
of one of the three with the coachman, that they intended to
get down at a roadside tavern more than six miles on this side
of that place.
“Do you know this house they intend to stop at?" I inquired
of my assistant as soon as I got him out of sight and hearing at
the back of the premises.
“Quite well : it is within about two miles of Five Oaks'
House.”
“Indeed! Then you must stop there too. It is necessary I
should go on to Kendal with Mr. Bristowe ; but you can remain
and watch their proceedings.”
“With all my heart.”
“But what excuse can you make for remaining there, when
they know you are booked for Kendal ? Fellows of that stamp
D.


GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
29
are keenly suspicious ; and in order to be useful, you must be
entirely unsuspected.”
“Oh, leave that to me. I'll throw dust enough in their eyes
to blind a hundred such as they, I warrant ye.”
“Well, we shall see. And now to dinner.”
Soon after, the coach had once more started. Mr. Josiah
Barnes began drinking from a stone bottle which he drew from
his pocket; and so potent must have been the spirit it contained,
that he became rapidly intoxicated. Not only speech, but eyes,
body, arms, legs, the entire animal, by the time we reached the
inn where we had agreed he should stop, was thoroughly, hope-
lessly drunk; and so savagely quarrelsome, too, did he become,
that I expected every instant to hear my real vocation pointed
out for the edification of the company. Strange to say, utterly
stupid and savage as he seemed, all dangerous topics were care-
fully avoided. When the coach stopped, he got out-how, I
know not—and reeled and tumbled into the tap-room, from
which he declared he would not budge an inch till next day.
Vainly did the coachman remonstrate with him upon his foolish
obstinacy; he might as well have argued with a bear; and he
at length determined to leave him to his drunken humor. I
was out of patience with the fellow; and snatching an opportu-
nity when the room was clear, began to upbraid him for his
vexatious folly. He looked sharply round, and then, his body
as evenly balanced, his eye as clear, his speech as free as my
own, crowed out in a low exulting voice,“ Didn't I tell you I'd
manage it nicely?” The door opened, and, in a twinkling,
extremity of drunkenness, of both brain and limb, was again
assumed with a perfection of acting I have never seen equalled.
He had studied from nature, that was perfectly clear. I was
quite satisfied, and with renewed confidence obeyed the coach-


30
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
man's call to take my seat. Mr. Bristowe and I were now the
only inside passengers; and as farther disguise was useless, I
began stripping myself of my superabundant clothing, wig, spec-
tacles, &c., and in a few minutes, with the help of a bundle I
had with me, presented to the astonished gaze of my fellow-
traveler the identical person that had so rudely accosted him in
the coffee-room of the Saracen's Head inn.
“Why, what, in the name of all that's comical, is the mean-
ing of this ?” demanded Mr. Bristowe, laughing immoderately
at my changed appearance.
I briefly and cooly informed him ; and he was for some min-
utes overwhelmed with consternation and astonishment. He had
not, he said, even heard of the catastrophe at his uncle's. Still,
amazed and bewildered as he was, no sign which I could interpret
into an indication of guilt escaped him.
“I do not wish to obtrude upon your confidence, Mr. Bris-
towe,” I remarked, after a long pause ; “ but you must perceive
that unless the circumstances I have related to you are in some
way explained, you stand in a perilous predicament.”
“ You are right,” he replied, after some hesitation. “It is
a tangled web; still, I doubt not that some mode of vindicating
my perfect innocence will present itself.”
He then relapsed into silence ; and neither of us spoke again
till the coach stopped, in accordance with a previous intimation
I had given the coachman, opposite the gate of the Kendal
prison. Mr. Bristowe started, and changed color, but instantly
mastering his emotion, he calmly said, “ You of course but per-
form your duty ; mine is not to distrust a just and all-seeing
Providence."
We entered the jail, and the necessary search of his clothes
and luggage was effected as forbearingly as possible. To my


GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
great dismay we found amongst the money in his purse a Spanish
gold piece of a peculiar coinage, and in the lining of his port-
manteau, very dexterously hidden, a cross set with brilliants,
both of which I knew, by the list forwarded to the London po-
lice, formed part of the plunder carried off from Five Oaks'
House. The prisoner's vehement protestations that he could
not conceive how such articles came into his possession, excited
a derisive smile on the face of the veteran turnkey ; whilst I
was thoroughly dumb-founded by the seemingly complete de-
molition of the theory of innocence I had woven out of his candid
open manner and unshakeable hardihood of nerve.
“I dare say the articles came to you in your sleep!” sneered
the turnkey as we turned to leave the cell.
“Oh,” I mechanically exclaimed, “ in his sleep! I had not
thought of that !” The man stared ; but I had passed out of
the prison before he could express his surprise or contempt in
words.
The next morning the justice-room was densely crowded, to
hear the examination of the prisoner. There was also a very
numerous attendance of magistrates ; the case, from the position
in life of the prisoner, and the strange and mysterious circum-
stances of the affair altogether, having excited an extraordinary
and extremely painful interest amongst all classes in the town
and neighborhood. The demeanor of the accused gentleman
was anxious certainly, but withal calm and collected ; and there
was, I thought, a light of fortitude and conscious probity in his
clear, bold eyes, which guilt never yet successfully stimulated.
After the hearing of some minor evidence, the fishmonger's
boy was called, and asked if he could point out the person he
had seen at Five Oaks on the day preceding the burglary? The
lad looked fixedly at the prisoner for something more than a


32
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
minute without speaking, and then said, “The gentleman was
standing before the fire when I saw him, with his cap on; I
should like to see this person with his cap on before I say any-
thing.” Mr. Bristowe dashed on his foraging-cap, and the boy
immediately exclaimed, “ That is the man!" Mr. Cowan, a
solicitor, retained by Mr. Bagshawe for his nephew, objected
that this was, after all, only swearing to a cap, or at best to
the ensemble of a dress, and ought not to be received. The
chairman, however, decided that it must be taken quantum
valeat, and in corroboration of other evidence. It was next
deposed by several persons that the deceased Sarah King had
told them that her master's nephew had positively arrived at
Five Oaks. An objection to the reception of this evidence, as
partaking of the nature of “heresay," was also made, and simi-
larly overruled. Mr. Bristowe begged to observe “ that Sarah
King was not one of his uncle's old servants, and was entirely
unknown to him : it was quite possible, therefore, that he was
personally unknown to her.” The bench observed that all these
observations might be fitly urged before a jury, but, in the pres-
ent stage of the proceedings, were uselessly addressed to them,
whose sole duty it was to ascertain if a sufficiently strong case
of suspicion had been made out against the prisoner to justify his
committal for trial. A constable next proved finding a portion
of a letter, which he produced, in one of the offices of Five
Oaks; and then Mr. Bagshawe was directed to be called in.
The prisoner, upon hearing this order given, exhibited great
emotion, and earnestly intreated that his uncle and himself
might be spared the necessity of meeting each other for the
first time after a separation of several years under such circum-
stances.
“We can receive no evidence against you, Mr. Bristowe, in


GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
33
your absence,” replied the chairman in a compassionate tone of
voice; “ but your uncle's deposition will occupy but a few min-
utes. It is, however, indispensable.”
“At least, then, Mr. Cowan,” said the agitated young man,
“ prevent my sister from accompanying her uncle : I could not
bear that."
He was assured she would not be present; in fact she had
become seriously ill through anxiety and terror ; and the crowded
assemblage awaited in painful silence the approach of the reluc-
tant prosecutor. He presently appeared—à venerable, white-
haired man; seventy years old at least he seemed, his form
bowed by age and grief, his eyes fixed upon the ground, and his
whole manner indicative of sorrow and dejection. “Uncle !"
cried the prisoner, springing towards him. The aged man looked
up, seemed to read in the clear countenance of his nephew a
full refutation of the suspicions entertained against him, tottered
forwards with out-spread arms, and, in the words of the Sacred
text, “fell upon his neck, and wept,” exclaiming in choking
accents, “ Forgive me—forgive me, Robert, that I ever for a
moment doubted you. Mary never did-never, Robert; not
for an instant.”
A profound silence prevailed during this outburst of feeling,
and a considerable pause ensued before the usher of the court,
at a gesture from the chairman, touched Mr. Bagshawe's arm,
said he, hastily wiping his eyes, and turning towards the court.
“My sister's child, gentlemen,” he added appealingly, “who
has lived with me from childhood : you will excuse me, I am
sure."
“ There needs no excuse, Mr. Bagshawe,” said the chairman
kindly; " but it is necessary this unhappy business should be


34
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
proceeded with. Hand the witness the portion of the letter
found at Five Oaks. Now, is that your handwriting ; and is it
a portion of the letter you sent to your nephew, informing him
of the large sum of money kept for a particular purpose at Five
Oaks ?”
It is.”
“Now,” said the clerk to the magistrates, addressing me,
“ please to produce the articles in your possession.”
I laid the Spanish coin and the cross upon the table.
“Please to look at those two articles, Mr. Bagshawe,” said
the chairman. “Now, sir, on your oath, are they a portion of
the property of which you have been robbed ?”
The aged gentleman stooped forward and examined them
earnestly; then turned and looked with quivering eyes, if I
may be allowed the expression, in his nephew's face ; but re-
turned no answer to the question.
“It is necessary you should reply, Yes or No, Mr. Bag-
shawe,” said the clerk.
“ Answer, uncle,” said the prisoner soothingly : “fear not for
me. God and my innocence to aid, I shall yet break through
the web of villany in which I at present seem hopelessly in-
volved.”
“Bless you, Robert—bless you! I am sure you will. Yes,
gentlemen, the cross and coin on the table are part of the prop-
erty carried off.”
A smothered groan, indicative of the sorrowing sympathy felt
for the venerable gentleman, arose from the crowded court on
hearing this declaration. I then deposed to finding them as
previously stated. As soon as I concluded, the magistrates con-
sulted together for a few minutes; and then the chairman, ad-
dressing the prisoner, said, “I have to inform you that the bench


GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
35
are agreed that sufficient evidence has been adduced against you
to warrant them in fully committing you for trial. We are of
course bound to hear anything you have to say ; but such being
our intention, your professional adviser will perhaps recommend
you to reserve whatever defence you have to make for another
tribunal : here it could not avail you."
Mr. Cowan expressed his concurrence in the intimation of the
magistrate ; but the prisoner vehemently protested against sanc-
tioning by his silence the accusation preferred against him.
“I have nothing to reserve,” he exclaimed with passionate
energy ; “nothing to conceal. I will not owe my acquittal of
this foul charge to any trick of lawyer-craft. If I may not come
out of this investigation with an untainted name, I desire not to
escape at all. The defence, or rather the suggestive facts I
have to offer for the consideration of the bench are these :-On
the evening of the day I received my uncle's letter I went to
Drury Lane theatre, remaining out very late. On my return
to the hotel, I found I had been robbed of my pocket-book,
which contained not only that letter, and a considerable sum in
bank-notes, but papers of great professional importance to me.
It was too late to adopt any measures for its recovery that night;
and the next morning, as I was dressing myself to go out, in
order to apprise the police authorities of my loss, I was informed
that a gentleman desired to see me instantly on important busi-
ness. He was shown up, and announced himself to be a detective
police officer : the robbery I had sustained had been revealed
by an accomplice, and it was necessary I should immediately
accompany him. We left the hotel together; and after con-
suming the entire day in perambulating all sorts of by-streets,
and calling at several suspicious-looking places, my officious
friend all at once discovered that the thieves had left town for


36
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY!
the west of England, hoping, doubtless, to reach a large town,
and get gold for the notes before the news of their having been
stopped should have reached it. He insisted upon immediate
pursuit. I wished to return to the hotel for a change of clothes,
as I was but lightly clad, and night-traveling required warmer
apparel. This he would not hear of, as the night-coach was on
the point of starting. He, however, contrived to supply me from
his own resources with a greatcoat - a sort of policeman's cape--
and a rough traveling-cap, which tied under the chin. In due
time we arrived at Bristol, where I was kept for several days
loitering about ; till, finally, my guide decamped, and I returned
to London. An hour after arriving there, I gave information at
Scotland Yard of what had happened, and afterwards booked
myself by the night-coach for Kendal. This is all I have to
say.”
This strange story did not produce the slightest effect upon
the bench, and very little upon the auditory, and yet I felt satis-
fied it was strictly true. It was not half ingenious enough for a
made-up story. Mr. Bagshawe, I should have stated, had been
led out of the justice-hall immediately after he had finished his
deposition.
“Then, Mr. Bristowe,” said the magistrate's clerk, “ assum-
ing this curious narrative to be correct, you will be easily able to
prove an alibi ?".
“I have thought over that, Mr. Clerk,” returned the prisoner
mildly, “and must confess that, remembering how I was dressed
and wrapped up—that I saw but few persons, and those casually
and briefly, I have strong misgivings of my power to do so.”
“That is perhaps the less to be lamented,” replied the county
clerk in a sneering tone, “inasmuch as the possession of those
articles,” pointing to the cross and coin on the table, “would


38
GU.LTY OR NOT GUILTY?
come down here to carry off the plate, somewhere concealed in
the neighborhood. This they mean to do to-night.”
“ Anything more?”
“ Yes. You know I am a ventriloquist in a small way, as
well as a bit of a mimic : well, I took occasion when that young-
est of the rascals—the one that sat beside Mr. Bristowe, and got
out on the top of the coach the second evening, because, freezing
cold as it was, he said the inside was too hot and close”.
“Oh, I remember. Dolt that I was, not to recall it before.
But go on.”
“Well, he and I were alone together in the parlor about three
hours ago—I dead tipsy as ever—when he suddenly heard the
' voice of Sarah King at his elbow exclaiming, 'Who is that in
the plate closet ?? If you had seen the start of horror which
he gave, the terror which shook his failing limbs as he glanced
round the apartment, you would no longer have entertained a
doubt on the matter."
“This is scarcely judicial proof, Barnes; but I dare say we
shall be able to make something of it. You return immediately;
about nightfall I will rejoin you in my former disguise.”
It was early in the evening when I entered the Talbot, and
seated myself in the parlor. Our three friends were present,
and so was Barnes.
“ Is not that fellow sober yet?” I demanded of one of them.
“No; he has been lying about drinking and snoring ever
since. He went to bed, I hear, this afternoon ; but he appears
to be little the better for it.”
I had an opportunity soon afterwards of speaking to Barnes
privately, and found that one of the fellows had brought a chaise-
cart and horse from Kendal, and that all three were to depart in
about an hour, under pretence of reaching a town about fourteen


40
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
“If you are not, you will probably be admitted king's evi-
dence ; though, mind, I make no promises. Now, what is the
plan of operations for carrying off the booty ?"
“ They are going in the chaise-cart almost immediately to
take it up : it is hidden in the copse yonder. I am to remain
here, in order to give an alarm should any suspicion be excited,
by showing two candles at our bedroom window; and if all
keeps right, I am to join them at the cross-roads, about a quarter
of a mile from hence.”
“All right. Now return to the parlor : I will follow you ;
and remember that on the slightest hint of treachery I will shoot
you as I would a dog."
About a quarter of an hour afterwards his two confederates
set off in the chaise-cart : I, Barnes, and Staples, cautiously
followed, the latter handcuffed, and superintended by the ostler
of the inn, whom I for the nonce pressed into the king's service.
The night was pitch dark, fortunately, and the noise of the cart-
wheels effectually drowned the sound of our footsteps. At length
the cart stopped ; the men got out, and were soon busily engaged
in transferring the buried plate to the cart. We cautiously ap-
proached, and were soon within a yard or two of them, still
unperceived.
“Get into the cart,” said one of them to the other, “and I
will hand the things up to you.” His companion obeyed.
“ Hollo !" cried the fellow, “ I thought I told you”—
" That you are nabbed at last !” I exclaimed, tripping him
suddenly up. “Barnes, hold the horse's head. Now, sir, at-
tempt to budge an inch out of that cart, and I'll send a bullet
through your brains.” The surprise was complete ; and so
terror-stricken were they, that neither resistance nor escape was
attempted. They were soon handcuffed and otherwise secured ;


Part Į II.
X. Y. Z.
The following advertisement appeared in several of the Lon-
don journals in the year 1832 :-“ If Owen Lloyd, a native of
Wales, and who, it is believed, resided for many years in Lon-
don as clerk in a large mercantile establishment, will forward
his present address to X. Y. Z., Post-Office, St. Martin's-le-
Grand, to be left till called for, he will hear of something greatly
to his advantage.”
My attention had been attracted to this notice by its very fre-
quent appearance in the journal which I was chiefly in the habit
of reading, and, from professional habits of thinking, I had set
it down in my own mind as a trap for some offender against the
principles of meum and tuum, whose presence in a criminal court
· was very earnestly desired. I was confirmed in this conjecture
by observing that, in despair of Owen Lloyd's voluntary dis-
closure of his retreat, a reward of fifty guineas, payable by a re-
spectable solicitor of Lothbury, was ultimately offered to any
person who would furnish X. Y. Z. with the missing man's
address. “An old bird,” I mentally exclaimed on perusing
this paragraph, “and not to be caught with chaff; that is
evident." Still more to excite my curiosity, and at the same
time bring the matter within the scope of my own particular
functions, I found, on taking up the “Police Gazette,” a re-
ward of thirty guineas offered for the apprehension of Owen
Lloyd, whose person and manners were minutely described.


x. Y. 2.
43
“ The pursuit grows hot,” thought I, throwing down the paper,
and hastening to attend a summons just brought me from the
superintendent; “and if Owen Lloyd is still within the four
seas, his chance of escape seems but a poor one.”
On waiting on the superintendent, I was directed to put my-
self in immediate personal communication with a Mr. Smith,
the head of an eminent wholesale house in the City.
“In the City !"
“ Yes; but your business with Mr. Smith is relative to the
extensive robbery at his West-end residence a week or two ago.
The necessary warrants for the apprehension of the suspected
parties have been, I understand, obtained, and on your return
will, together with some necessary memoranda, be placed in
your hands."
I at once proceeded to my destination, and on my arrival, was
immediately ushered into a dingy back-room, where I was desired
to wait till Mr. Smith, who was just then busily engaged, could
speak to me. Casting my eyes over a table, near which the
clerk had placed me a chair, I perceived a newspaper and the
“Police Gazette,” in both of which the advertisements for the
discovery of Owen Lloyd were strongly underlined. “Oh, ho,”
thought I; “Mr. Smith, then, is the X. Y. Z. who is so ex-
tremely anxious to renew his acquaintance with Mr. Owen
Lloyd ; and I am the honored individual selected to bring about
the desired interview. Well, it is in my new vocation-one
which can scarcely be dispensed with, it seems, in this busy,
scheming life of ours.”
Mr. Smith did not keep me waiting long. He seemed a hard,
shrewd, business man, whose still wiry frame, brisk, active gait
and manner, and clear, decisive eye, indicated—though the
snows of more than sixty winters had passed over his head—a


44
Z.
X.
Y.
yet vigorous life, of which the morning and the noon had been
spent in the successful pursuit of wealth and its accompaniment
-social consideration and influence.
“You have, I suppose, read the advertisements marked on
these papers ?”
“I have, and of course conclude that you, sir, are
X. Y Z.”
“ Of course, conclusions,” rejoined Mr. Smith with a quite
perceptible sneer, “ are usually very silly ones : in this instance
especially so. My name, you ought to be aware, is Smith :
X. Y. Z., whoever he may be, I expect in a few minutes. In
just seventeen minutes,” added the exact man of business ;
“for I, by letter, appointed him to meet me here at one o'clock
precisely. My motive in seeking an interview with him, it is
proper I should tell you, is the probability that he, like myself,
is assufferer by Owen Lloyd, and may not therefore object to
defraya fair share of the cost likely to be incurred in unkennel-
ing the delinquent, and prosecuting him to conviction ; or, which
would be far þetter, he may be in possession of information that
will enable us to obtain completely the clue I already almost
grasp. But we must be cautious : X. Y. Z. may be a relative
or friend of Lloyd's, and in that case, to possess him of our
plans would answer no purpose but to afford him an opportunity
of baffling them. Thus much premised, I had better at once
proceed to read over to you a few particulars I have jotted
down, which, you will perceive, throw light and color over the
suspicions I have been within these few days compelled to enter-
tain. You are doubtless acquainted with the full particulars of
the robbery at my residence, Brook Street, last Thursday
fortnight ?"
“ Yes ; especially the report of the officers, that the crime


x.
z.
Y.
must have been committed by persons familiar with the premises
and the general habits oi' the family."
“Precisely. Now, have you your memorandum-book ready?”
6 Quite so.”
“You had better write with ink,” said Mr. Smith, pushing
an inkstand and pens towards me. “Important memoranda
should never, where there is a possibility of avoiding it, be
written in pencil. Friction, thumbing, use of any kind, often
partially obliterates them, creating endless confusion and mis-
takes. Are you ready ?”
“ Perfectly.”
“Owen Lloyd, a native of Wales, and, it was understood,
descended from a highly-respectable family there. About five
feet eight; but I need not describe his person over again.
Many years with us, first as junior, then as head clerk; during
which his conduet, as regards the firm, was exemplary. A man
of yielding, irresolute mind—if indeed a person can be said to
really possess a mind at all who is always changing it for some
other person's—incapable of saying “No” to embarrassing,
impoverishing requests—one, in short, Mr. Waters, of that
numerous class of individuals whom fools say are nobody's
enemies but their own, as if that were possible”_
“I understand; but I really do not see how this bears
upon”_
"The mission you are directed to undertake? I think it
does, as you will presently see. Three years ago, Owen Lloyd
having involved himself, in consequence of the serious defect of
character I have indicated, in large liabilities for pretended
friends, left our employment; and to avoid a jail, fled, no one
could discover whither. Edward Jones, also a native of the
principality, whose description, as well as that of his wife, you


46
X. Y. 2.
will receive from the superintendent, was discharged about seven
years since from our service for misconduct, and went, we un-
derstood, to America. He always appeared to possess great
influence over the mind of his considerably younger countryman
Lloyd. Jones and his wife were seen three evenings since by
one of our clerks near Temple Bar. I am of opinion, Mr.
Waters,” continued Mr. Smith, removing his spectacles, and
closing the note-book, from which he had been reading, “ that
it is only the first step in crime, or criminal imprudence, which
feeble-minded men especially long hesitate or boggle at; and I
now more than suspect that, pressed by poverty, and very pos-
sibly yielding to the persuasions and example of Jones—who, by
the way, was as well acquainted with the premises in Brook
Street as his fellow-clerk—the once honest, ductile Owen Lloyd,
is now a common thief and burglar.”
“ Indeed!”
“ Yes. A more minute search led to the discovery, the day
before yesterday, of a pocket-book behind some book-shelves in
the library. As no property had been taken from that room-
though the lock of a large iron chest, containing coins and
medals, had been evidently tampered with—the search there
was not at first very rigorous. That pocket-book-here it is
belonged, I know, to Owen Lloyd when in our service. See,
here are his initials stamped on the cover.”
“Might he not have inadvertently left it there when with
you ?"
“ You will scarcely think so after reading the date of the five-
pound note of the Hampshire County Bank, which you will find
within the inner lining.”
“ The data is 1831."
“ Exactly I have also strong reason for believing that


x.
2.
Y.
Owen Lloyd is now, or has been lately, residing in some part of
Hampshire."
“ That is important."
“ This letter,” continued Mr. Smith ; and then pausing for
a brief space in some embarrassment, he added—“ The com-
missioner informed me, Mr. Waters, that you were a person
upon whose good sense and discretion, as well as sagacity and
courage, every confidence might be placed. I therefore feel less
difficulty than I otherwise should in admitting you a little behind
the family screen, and entering with you upon matters one would
not willingly have bruited in the public ear.”
I bowed, and he presently proceeded.
“ Owen Lloyd, I should tell you, is married to a very amiable,
superior sort of woman, and has one child, a daughter named
Caroline, an elegant, gentle-mannered, beautiful girl I admit, to
whom my wife was much attached, and she was consequently a
frequent visitor in Brook Street. This I always felt was very
imprudent; and the result was, that my son Arthur Smith-
only about two years her senior ; she was just turned of seven-
teen when her father was compelled to fly from his creditors—
formed a silly, boyish attachment for her. They have since, I
gather from this letter, which I found yesterday in Arthur's
dressing-room, carried on, at long intervals, a clandestine corres-
pondence, waiting for the advent of more propitious times—
which, being interpreted,” added Mr. Smith with a sardonic
sneer, “ means of course my death and burial.”
“ You are in possession, then, if Miss Caroline Lloyd is
living with her father, of his precise place of abode ?”
“Not exactly. The correspondence is, it seems, carried on
without the knowledge of Owen Lloyd ; and the girl states in
answer, it should seem, to Arthur's inquiries, that her father


48
X. Y. z.
would never forgive her if, under present circumstances, she
disclosed his place of residence—we can now very well under-
stand that--and she intreats Arthur not to persist, at least for
the present, in his attem; 's to discover her. My son, you must
understand, is now of age, and so far as fortune is concerned, is,
thanks to a legacy from an aunt on his mother's side, inde-
pendent of me.”
“What post-mark does the letter bear?”
“ Charing-Cross. Miss Lloyd states that it will be posted in
London by a friend ; that friend being, I nothing doubt, her
father's confederate, Jones. But to us the most important part
of the epistle is the following line :— My father met with a sad
accident in the forest some time ago, but is now quite re-
covered. The words in the forest have, you see, been written
over, but not so entirely as to prevent their being, with a little
trouble, traced. Now, coupling this expression with the Hamp-
shire bank-note, I am of opinion that Lloyd is concealed some-
where in the New Forest.”
“A shrewd guess, at all events.”
“You now perceive what weighty motives I have to bring
this man to justice. The property carried off I care little com-
paratively about; but the intercourse between the girl and my
son must at any cost be terminated”_
He was interrupted by a clerk, who entered to say that Mr.
William Lloyd, the gentleman who had advertised as “X. Y.
Z.” desired to speak to him. Mr. Smith directed Mr. Lloyd to
be shewn in ; and then, snatching up the “ Police Gazette,"
and thrusting it into one of the table-drawers, said in a low
voice, but marked emphasis, “A relative, no loubt, by the
name : be silent, and be watchful.”
A minute afterwards Mr. Lloyd was ushered into the room.


50
y. z.
x.
brother's family--may, in fact, marry his daughter Caroline.
Now I could easily convince Owen”—
“ Caroline !" interjected Mr. Lloyd with a tremulous accent,
and his dim eyes suffused with tears—“ Caroline !--ay, truly
her daughter would be named Caroline." An instant after, he
added, drawing himself up with an air of pride and some stern-
ness : “ Caroline Lloyd, sir, is a person who, by birth, and, I
doubt not, character and attainments, is a fitting match for the
son of the proudest merchant of this proud city.”
“Very likely,” rejoined Mr. Smith dryly; “ but you must
excuse me for saying that, as regards my son, it is one which I
will at any cost prevent.”
“How am I to know,” observed Mr. Lloyd, whose glance of
pride had quickly passed away, “ that you are dealing fairly and
candidly with me in the matter ?”
In reply to this home-thrust, Mr. Smith placed the letter ad-
dressed by Miss Lloyd to his son in the hands of the questioner,
at the same time explaining how he had obtained it.
Mr. Lloyd's hands trembled, and his tears fell fast over the
letter as he hurriedly perused it. It seemed by his broken, in-
voluntary ejaculations, that old thoughts and memories were
deeply stirred within him. “Poor girl !--so young, so gentle,
and so sorely tried ! Her mother's very turn of thought and
phrase. Owen, too, artless, honorable, just as he was ever,
except when the dupe of knaves and villains.”
. He seemed buried in thought for some time after the perusal
of the letter; and Mr. Smith, whose cue it was to avoid exciting
suspicion by too great eagerness of speech, was growing fidgetty.
At length, suddenly looking up, he said in a dejected tone, “If
this is all you have ascertained, we seem as far off as ever. I
can afford you no help.”


X.
51
Y.
z
“I am not sure of that,” replied Mr. Smith. “Let us look
calmly at the matter. Your brother is evidently not living in
London, and that accounts for your advertisements not being
answered.”
“ Truly.”
“ If you look at the letter attentively, you will perceive that
three important words, in the forest,' have been partially
erased.”
“ Yes, it is indeed so ; but what”-
“Now, is there no particular locality in the country to which
your brother would be likely to betake himself in preference to
another ? Gentlemen of fancy and sentiment,” added Mr.
Smith, “usually fall back, I have heard, upon some favorite
haunt of early days when pressed by adversity.”
“It is natural they should,” replied Mr. Lloyd, heedless of
the sneer. “I have felt that longing for old haunts and old
faces in intensest force, even when I was what the world calls
prospering in strange lands ; and how much more— But
no; he would not return to Wales—to Caermarthen—to be
looked down upon by those amongst whom our family for so
many generations stood equal with the highest. Besides, I have
personally sought him there-in vain.”
“But his wife—she is not a native of the principality ?”
“No. Ah! I remember. The forest! It must be so !
Caroline Heyworth, whom we first met in the Isle of Wight, is
a native of Beaulieu, a village in the New Forest, Hampshire.
A small, very small property there, bequeathed by an uncle,
belonged to her, and perhaps has not been disposed of. How
came I not to think of this before ? I will set out at once-and
yet pressing business requires my stay here for a day or
two."


x.
Y. z.
“Perfectly. But permit me to observe, that the duty you
just now hinted I might hesitate to perform, will not permit me
to be a party to any such transaction. Good-day.”
I waited on Mr. William Lloyd soon afterwards, and listened
with painful interest to the brief history which he, with child-
like simplicity, narrated of his own and brother's fortunes. It
was a sad, oft-told tale. They had been early left orphans ;
and deprived of judicious guidance, had run-William more
especially—a wild career of dissipation, till all was gone. Just
before the crash came, they had both fallen in love with the
same woman, Caroline Heyworth, who had preferred the meeker,
more gentle-hearted Owen, to his elder brother. They parted
in anger. William obtained a situation as bailiff and overseer
of an estate in Jamaica, where, by many years of toil, good
fortune, and economy, he at length ruined his health and re-
stored his fortunes; and was now returned to die rich in his
native country; and, as he had till an hour before feared, un-
lamented and untended save by hirelings. I promised to write
immediately I had seen his brother ; and with a sorrowful heart
took leave of the vainly-rejoicing, prematurely-aged man.
I arrived at Southampton by the night-coach-the railway
was but just begun, I remember—and was informed that the
best mode of reaching Beaulieu-Bewley, they pronounced it-
was by crossing the Southampton river to the village of Hythe,
which was but a few miles distance from Beaulieu. As soon as
I had breakfasted, I hastened to the quay, and was soon speed-
ing across the tranquil waters in one of the sharp-stemmed
wherries which plied constantly between the shores. My atten-
tion was soon arrested by two figures in the stern of the boat, a
man and woman. A slight examination of their features sufficed.
to convince me that they were Jones and his wife. They


54
X. Y. z.
evidently entertained no suspicion of pursuit; and as I heard
them tell the boatmen they were going on to Bewley, I deter-
mined for the present not to disturb their fancied security. It
was fortunate I did so. As soon as we had landed, they passed
into a mean-looking dwelling, which, from some nets, and a boat
under repair, in a small yard in front of it, I concluded to be a
fisherman's. As no vehicle could be readily procured, I deter-
mined on walking on, and easily reached Beaulieu, which is
charmingly situated just within the skirts of the New Forest,
about twelve o'clock. After partaking of a slight repast at the
principal inn of the place—I forget its name ; but it was, I
remember, within a stone’s-throw of the celebrated Beaulieu
Abbey ruins—I easily contrived, by a few careless, indirect
questions, to elicit all the information I required of the loqua-
cious waiting-maid. Mr. Lloyd, who seemed to bear an excel-
lent character, lived, I was informed, at a cottage about half a
mile distant from the inn, and chiefly supported himself as a
measurer of timber—beech and ash : a small stock—the oak was
reserved for government purposes—he usually kept on hand.
Miss Caroline, the girl said, did beautiful fancy-work; and a
group of flowers painted by her, as natural as life, was framed
and glazed in the bar, if I would like to see it. Upon the right
track sure enough! Mr. Lloyd, there could be no longer a
doubt, had unconsciously betrayed his unfortunate, guilty
brother into the hands of justice, and I, an agent of the iron
law, was already upon the threshold of his hiding-place! I felt
no pleasure at the success of the scheme. To have bravely and
honestly stood up against an adverse fate for so many years, only
to fall into crime just as fortune had grown weary of persecuting
him, and a long-estranged brother had returned to raise him and
his to their former position in society, was melancholy indeed !


x. Y. z.
55
And the young woman too, whose letter breathed so pure, so
gentle, so patient a spirit !-it would not bear thinking about
and I resolutely strove to look upon the affair as one of everyday
routine. It would not do, however ; and I was about to quit
the room in no very enviable frame of mind, when my boat com-
panions, Mr. and Mrs. Jones, entered, and seated themselves at
one of the tables. The apartment was rather a large one, and
as I was seated in the corner of a box at some distance from the
entrance, they did not at first observe me ; and several words
caught my ear which awakened a strong desire to hear more.
That I might do so, I instantly adopted a very common, but
not the less often very successful device. As soon as the new-
comers perceived me, their whispered colloquy stopped abruptly,
and after a minute or so, the man said, looking hard at me,
“Good-day, sir ; you have had rather a long walk ?” and he
glanced at my dusty boots.
“Sir," I replied, enclosing my left ear with my hand in the
manner of a natural ear-trumpet, “ did you speak ?”
“A dusty walk,” he rejoined in a voice that might have been
heard in a hurricane or across Fleet Street.
“One o'clock !" I replied, pulling out my watch. “No:
it wants a quarter yet.”
“ Deaf as the Monument,” said Jones to his companion.
5 All right.”
The suspended dialogue was but partially resumed.
“Do you think,” said the woman, after the lapse of about
five minutes—“ do you think Owen and his family will go with
us? I hope not.”
“Not he: I only asked him just for the say-so of the thing.
He is too chicken-hearted for that, or for anything else that
requires pluck."


56
X. Y. z.
Finishing the spirits and water they had ordered, they soon
afterwards went out. I followed.
As soon as we had gone about a hundred paces from the
house, I said, “ Pray can you tell me which is Mr. Lloyd the
beech-merchant's house ?”
“Yes," replied the man, taking hold of my arm, and halloo-
ing into my ear with a power sufficient to really deafen one for
life: “ we are going there to dine.”
I nodded comprehension, and on we journeyed. We were
met at the door by Owen Lloyd himself—a man in whose coun-
tenance guilelessness, even to simplicity, seemed stamped by
nature's own true hand. So much, thought I, for the reliance
to be placed on physiognomy! “I have brought you a cus-
tomer,” said Mr. Jones ; “ but he is as deaf as a stone." I
was courteously invited in by signs; and with much hallooing
and shouting, it was finally settled that, after dinner, I should
look over Mr. Lloyd's stock of wood. Dinner had just been
placed on the table by Mrs. Lloyd and her daughter. A still
very comely, interesting woman was Mrs. Lloyd, though time
and sorrow had long since set their unmistakeable seals upon
her. Her daughter was, I thought, one of the most charming,
graceful young women I had ever seen, spite of the tinge of sad-
ness which dwelt upon her sweet face, deepening its interest if
it somewhat diminished its beauty. My heart ached to think of
the misery the announcement of my errand must presently
bring on such gentle beings—innocent, I felt confident, even of
the knowledge of the crime that had been committed. I dreaded
to begin—not, Heaven knows, from any fear of the men, who,
compared with me, were poor, feeble creatures, and I could
easily have mastered half-a-dozen such ; but the females—that
young girl especially--how encounter their despair ? I mutely


X. Y. z.
declined dinner, but accepted a glass of ale, and sat down till I
could muster sufficient resolution for the performance of my task ;
for I felt this was an opportunity of quietly effecting the capture
of both the suspected criminals which must not be neglected.
Dinner was just over when Mrs. Lloyd said, “Oh, Mr.
Jones, have you seen anything of my husband's pocket-book ?
It was on a shelf in the room where you slept—not the last
time, but when you were here about three weeks ago. We can
find it nowhere ; and I thought you might possibly have taken
it by mistake.”
“ A black, common-looking thing ?” said Jones.
66 Yes."
“I did take it by mistake. I found it in one of my parcels,
and put it in my pocket, intending of course to return it when I
came back ; but I remember, when wanting to open a lock of
which I had lost the key, taking it out to see if it contained a
pencil-case which I thought might answer the purpose ; and
finding none, tossing it away in a pet, I could not afterwards
find it.”
6 Then it is lost ?"
“Yes; but what of that? There was nothing in it.”
“You are mistaken,” rejoined Owen ; “ there was a five-
pound country note in it, and the loss will — What is the
matter, friend ?”
I had sprung upon my feet with uncontrollable emotion : Mr.
Lloyd's observation recalled me to myself, and I sat down again,
muttering something about a sudden pain in the side.
“Oh, if that's the case,” said Jones, “I'll make it up will-
ingly. I am pretty rich, you know, just now.”
“ We shall be much obliged to you,” said Mrs. Lloyd ; " its
loss would be a sad blow to us."


58
x. Y. z.
“How came you to send those heavy boxes here, Jones?"
said Owen Lloyd. “Would it not have been better to have
sent them direct to Portsmouth, where the vessel calls ?”.
“I had not quite made up my mind to return to America
then ; and I knew they would be safer here than anywhere
else."
“When do you mean to take them away? We are so badly
off for room, that they terribly hamper us.”
“ This evening, about nine o'clock. I have hired a smack at
Hythe to take us, bag and baggage, down the river to meet the
liner which calls off Portsmouth to-morrow. I wish we could
persuade you to go with us.”
“ Thank you, Jones," replied Owen in a dejected tone. “I
have very little to hope for here; still my heart clings to the old
country.”
I had heard enough ; and hastily rising, intimated a wish to
look at the timber at once. Mr. Lloyd immediately rose, and
Jones and his wife left the cottage to return to Hythe at the
same time that we did. I marked a few pieces of timber, and
promising to send for them in the morning, hastened away.
A mountain seemed removed from off my breast: I felt as if
I had achieved a great personal deliverance. Truly a wonder-
ful interposition of Providence, I thought, that has so signally
averted the fatal consequences likely to have resulted from the
thoughtless imprudence of Owen Lloyd, in allowing his house to
be made, however innocently, a receptacle for stolen goods, at
the solicitations, too, of a man whose character he knew to be
none of the purest. He had had a narrow escape, and might
with perfect truth exclaim
"There's a Divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them l w we will.”


X. Y. z.
The warrants of which I was the bearer, the London police
authorities had taken care to get indorsed by a magistrate of the
county of Hampshire, who happened to be in London, so that I
found no difficulty in arranging effectually for the capture and
safe custody of Jones and his assistants when he came to fetch
his booty.
I had just returned to the Beaulieu inn, after completing my
arrangements, when a carriage drove furiously up to the door,
and who should, to my utter astonishment, alight, but Mr. Wil-
liam Lloyd, and Messrs. Smith, father and son. I hastened out,
and briefly enjoining caution and silence, begged them to step
with me into a private room. The agitation of Mr. Lloyd and
of Mr. Arthur Smith was extreme, but Mr. Smith appeared cold
and impassive as ever. I soon ascertained that Arthur Smith,
by his mother's assistance, I suspect, had early penetrated his
father's schemes and secrets, and had, in consequence, caused
Mr. William Lloyd to be watched home, with whom, immedi-
ately after I had left, he had a long conference. Later in the
evening an éclaircissement with the father took place; and after
a long and stormy discussion, it was resolved that all three
should the next morning post down to Beaulieu, and act as cir-
cumstances might suggest. My story was soon told. It was re-
ceived of course with unbounded joy by the brother and the
lover; and even through the father's apparent indifference I
could perceive that his refusal to participate in the general joy
would not be of long duration. The large fortune which Mr
William Lloyd intimated his intention to bestow upon his nieco
was a new and softening element in the affair.
Mr. Smith, senior, ordered his dinner; and Mr. Lloyd and
Arthur Smith--but why need I attempt to relate what they did ?
I only know that when, a long time afterwards, I ventured to


60
z.
x.
Y.
look in at Mr. Owen Lloyd's cottage, all the five inmates—
brother, uncle, lover, niece, and wife—were talking, laughing;
weeping, smiling, like distracted creatures, and seemed utterly
incapable of reasonable discourse. An hour after that, as I stood
screened by a belt of forest-trees in wait for Mr. Jones and com-
pany, I noticed, as they all strolled past me in the clear moon-
light, that the tears, the agitation had passed away, leaving only
smiles and grateful joy on the glad faces so lately clouded by
anxiety and sorrow. A mighty change in so brief a space!
Mr. Jones arrived with his cart and helpers in due time. A
man who sometimes assisted in the timber-yard was deputed,
with an apology for the absence of Mr. Lloyd, to deliver the
goods. The boxes, full of plate and other valuables, were soon
hoisted in, and the cart moved off. I let it proceed about a
mile, and then, with the help I had placed in readiness, easily
secured the astounded burglar and his assistants ; and early the
next morning Jones was on his road to London. He was tried
at the ensuing Old-Bailey sessions, convicted, and transported
for life ; and the discretion I had exercised in not executing the
warrant against Owen Lloyd was decidedly approved of by the
authorities.
It was about two months after my first interview with Mr.
Smith that, on returning home one evening, my wife placed be-
fore me a piece of bride-cake, and two beautifully-engraved cards
united with white satin ribbon, bearing the names of Mr. and
Mrs. Arthur Smith. I was more gratified by this little act of
courtesy for Emily's sake, as those who have temporarily fallen
from a certain position in society will easily understand, than. I
should have been by the costliest present. The service I had
rendered was purely accidental : it has nevertheless been always
kindly remembered by all parties whom it so critically served,


Part I v.
THE WIDOW.
In the winter of 1833 I was hurriedly, and, as I at the time
could not help thinking, precipitately despatched to Guernsey,
one of the largest of the islands which dot the British Channel,
in quest of a gentleman of, till then, high character on the Stock
Exchange, who, it was alleged, had absconded with a very large
sum of money intrusted to him for investment by a baronet of
considerable influence in official quarters. From certain circum-
stances, it was surmised that Guernsey would be his first hiding-
place, and I was obliged to post all the way to Weymouth in
order to save the mail packet, which left that place on the
Saturday evening, or night rather, with the Channel Island
mails. Mr. — had gone, it was conjectured, by way of
Southampton. My search, promptly and zealously as I was
aided by the Guernsey authorities, proving vain, I determined on
going on to Jersey, when a letter arrived by post informing me
that the person of whom I was in pursuit had either not intended
to defraud his client, or that his heart had failed him at the
threshold of crime. A few hours after I had left London he
had reappeared, it seems, in his counting-house, after having a
few minutes previously effected the investment of the money in
accordance with his client's instructions, and was now, through
his attorney, threatening the accuser and all his aiders and
abettors with the agreeable processes that in England usually
follow sharply at the heels of such rash and hasty proceedings.


62
THE WIDOW.
My mission over, I proposed to retrace my steps immediately ;
but unfortunately found myself detained in the island for nearly
a week by the hurricane-weather which suddenly set in, render-
ing it impossible for the mail or other steam-packets to cross the
Channel during its continuance. Time limped slowly and
heavily away ; and frequently, in my impatience to be gone, I
walked down to the bleak pier, and strained my eyes in the
direction in which the steamer from Jersey should appear.
Almost every time I did so I encountered two persons, who, I
could see, were even more impatient to be gone than myself,
and probably, I thought, with much more reason. They were
a widow lady, not certainly more than thirty years of age, and
her son, a fine curly-haired boy, about eight or nine years old,
whose natural light-heartedness appeared to be checked, sub-
dued, by the deep grief and sadness which trembled in his
mothers fine expressive eyes, and shrouded her pale but hand-
some face. He held her by the hand ; often clasping it with
both his tiny ones, and looking up to her as she turned despond-
ingly away from the vacant roadstead and raging waters, with a
half-frightened half-wondering expression of anxious love, which
would frequently cause his mother to bend down, and hurriedly
strive to kiss away the sorrowful alarm depicted in the child's
face. These vwo beings strangely interested me; chiefly per-
haps because, in my compelled idleness, I had little else except
the obstinate and angry weather to engage my attention or oc-
cupy my thoughts. There was an unmistakable air of "better
days' about the widow—a grace of manner which her somewhat
faded and unseasonable raiment rendered but the more striking
and apparent. Her countenance, one perceived at the first
glance, was of remarkable comeliness ; and upon one occasion
that I had an opportunity of observing it, I was satisfied that,


THE WIDOW.
under happier influences than now appeared to overshadow her,
those pale interesting features would light up into beauty as
brilliant as it was refined and intellectual.
This introduces another walking mystery, which, for want of
something better to do, I was conjuring out of my fellow-watch-
ers on the pier. He was a stoutish, strongly-set man of forty
years of age, perhaps scarcely so much, showily dressed in new
glossy clothes ; French-varnished boots, thin-soled enough, win-
ter as it was, for a drawing-room ; hat of the latest gent fashion ;
a variegated satin cravat, fastened by two enormous-headed gold
pins, connected with a chain ; and a heavy gold chain fastened
from his watch waistcoat-pocket over his neck. The com-
plexion of his face was a cadaverous white, liberally sprinkled
and relieved with gin and brandy blossoms, whilst the coarseness
of his not overly-clean hands was with singular taste set off and
displayed by some half-dozen glittering rings. I felt a growing
conviction, especially on noticing a sudden change in the usual
cunning, impudent, leering expression of his eyes, as he caught
me looking at him with some earnestness, that I had somewhere
had the honor of a previous introduction to him. That he had
not been, lately at all events, used to such resplendent habili-
ments as he now sported, was abundantly evident from his nu-
merous smirking self-surveys as he strutted jauntily along, and
frequently stopping before shops that, having mirrors in their
windows, afforded a more complete view of his charming person.
This creature I was convinced was in some way or other con-
nected, or at any rate acquainted, with the young and graceful
widow. He was constantly dogging her steps; and I noticed
with surprise, and some little irritation, that his vulgar bow was
faintly returned by the lady as they passed each other; ana
that her recognition of him, slight ad distant as it was, was not


64
THE WIDOW.
unfrequently accompanied by a blush, whether arising from a
pleasurable emotion or the reverse, I could not for some time
determine. There is a mystery about blushes, I was, and am
quite aware, not easily penetrable, more especially about those
of widows. I was soon enlightened upon that point. One day,
when she happened to be standing alone on the pier-her little
boy was gazing through a telescope I had borrowed of the land-
lord of the hotel where I lodged—he approached, and before
she was well aware of his intention, took her hand, uttering at
the same time, it seemed, some words of compliment. It was
then I observed her features literally flash with a vividness of
expression which revealed a beauty I had not before imagined
she possessed. The fellow absolutely recoiled before the con-
centrated scorn which flushed her pale features, and the indig-
nant gesture with which she withdrew her hand from the
contamination of Iris touch. As he turned confusedly and
hastily away, his eyes encountered mine, and he muttered some
unintelligible sentences, during which the widow and her son
left the spot.
“The lady,” said I, as soon as she was out of hearing, “ seems
in a cold, bitter humor this morning ; not unlike the weather.”
“Yes, Mr. Wat — I beg pardon, Mr. What's-your name,
I would say ?"
“Waters, as I perceive you know quite well. My recollec-
tion of you is not so distinct. I have no remembrance of the
fashionable clothes and brilliant jewellery, none whatever ; but
the remarkable countenance I have seen.”
“I dare say you have, Waters,” he replied, reassuming his
insolent, swaggering air. “I practice at the Old Bailey ; and I
have several times seen you there, not, as now, in the masque-
rade of a gentleman, but with a number on your collar."


66
THE WIDOW.
thought I would escape out of the dingy, smoky village, and air
myself for a few days in the Channel.”
“A delightful time of the year for such a purpose truly.
Rather say you came to improve your acquaintance with the lady
yonder, who, I dare say, will not prove ultimately inflexible ?"
“Perhaps you are right—a little at least you may be, about
the edges. But here we are ; what do you take--port ?"
“ That as soon as anything else.”
Mr. Gates was, as he said, constitutionally thirsty, and al-
though it was still early in the day, drank with great relish and
industry. As he grew flushed and rosy, and I therefore ima-
gined communicative, I said, “Well, now, tell me who and
what is that lady?”
The reply was a significant compound gesture, comprising a
wink of his left eye and the tap of a fore-finger upon the right
side of his nose. I waited, but the pantomimic action remained
uninterpreted by words.
“Not rich apparently ?”
“ Poor as Job.”
“ An imprudent marriage probably ?"
“Guess again, and I'll take odds you'll guess wrong ; but
suppose, as variety is charming, we change the subject. What
is your opinion now of the prospects of the ministry ?".
I saw it was useless attempting to extract any information
from so cunning a rascal ; and hastily excusing myself, I rose,
and abruptly took my leave, more and more puzzled to account
for the evident connection, in some way or other, of so fair and
elegant a woman with a low attorney, struck off the rolls for
fraudulent misconduct, and now acting in the name of a person
scarcely less disreputable than himself. On emerging from the
tavern, I found that the wind had not only sensibly abated, but


THE WIDOW.
67
had become more favorable to the packet's leaving Jersey, and
that early the next morning we might reasonably hope to embark
for Weymouth. It turned out as we anticipated. The same
boat which took me off to the roads conveyed also the widow-
Mrs. Grey, I saw by the cards on her modest luggage—and her
son. Gates followed a few minutes afterwards, and we were
soon on our stormy voyage homewards.
The passage was a very rough, unpleasant one, and I saw
little of the passengers in whom, in spite of myself, as it were, I
continued to feel so strong an interest, till the steamer was
moored alongside the Weymouth quay, and we stood together
for a brief space, awaiting the scrutiny and questionings of the
officers of the customs. I bowed adieu as I stepped from the
paddle-box to the shore, and thought, with something of a feel-
ing of regret, that in all probability I should never see either of
them again. I was mistaken, for on arriving early the next
morning to take possession of the outside place booked for me
by the coach to London through Southampton, I found Mrs.
Grey and her son already seated on the roof. Gates came hur-
riedly a few minutes afterwards, and ensconced himself snugly
inside. The day was bitterly cold, and the widow and her some-
what delicate-looking boy were but poorly clad for such incle-
ment weather. The coachman and myself, however, contrived
to force some rough, stout cloaks upon their acceptance, which
sufficed pretty well during the day ; but as night came on rainy
and tempestuous, as well as dark and bleak, I felt that they
must be in some way or other got inside, where Gates was the
only passenger. Yet so distant, so frigidly courteous was Mrs.
Grey, that I was at a loss how to manage it. Gates, I saw, was
enjoying himself hugely to his own satisfaction. At every stage
he swallowed a large glass of brandy and water, and I observed


68
THE WIDOW.
that he cast more and more audaciously-triumphant glances
towards Mrs. Grey. Once her eye, though studiously I thought
averted from him, caught his, and a deep blush, in which fear,
timidity, and aversion seemed strangely mingled, swept over her
face. What could it mean? It was, however, useless to worry
myself further with profitless conjectures, and I descended from
the roof to hold a private parley with the coachman. A reason-
able bargain was soon struck : he went to Mrs. Grey and pro-
posed to her, as there was plenty of room to spare, that she and
her son should ride inside.
“It will make no difference in the fare,” he added, “and
it's bitter cold out here for a lady."
“ Thank you,” replied the widow after a few moments' hesi-
tation ; “we shall do very well here."
I guessed the cause of her refusal, and hastened to add, “You
had better, I think, accept the coachman's proposal : the night-
weather will be dreadful, and even I, a man, must take refuge
inside.” She looked at me with a sort of grateful curiosity, and
then accepted, with many thanks, the coachman's offer.
When we alighted at the Regent Circus, London, I looked
anxiously but vainly round for some one in attendance to receive
and greet the widow and her son. She did not seem to expect
any one, but stood gazing vacantly, yet sadly, at the noisy,
glaring, hurrying scene around her, her child's hand clasped in
hers with an unconsciously tightening grasp, whilst her luggage
was removed from the roof of the coach. Gates stood near, as
if in expectation that his services must now, however unwillingly,
be accepted by Mrs. Grey. I approached her, and said some-
what hurriedly, “ If, as I apprehend, madam, you are a stranger
in London, and consequently in need of temporary lodgings, you
will, I think, do well to apply to the person whose address I


THE WIDOW.
69
have written on this card. It is close by. He knows me, and
on your mentioning my name, will treat you with every consider-
ation. I am a police officer ; here is my address ; and any
assistance in my power, shall, in any case," and I glanced at
Gates, “be freely rendered to you.” I then hastened off, and
my wife an hour afterwards was even more anxious and inter-
ested for the mysterious widow and her son than myself.
About six weeks had glided away, and the remembrance of
my fellow-passengers from Guernsey was rapidly fading into in-
distinctness, when a visit from Roberts, to whose lodgings I had
recommended Mrs. Grey, brought them once more painfully
before me. That the widow was poor I was not surprised to
hear; but that a person so utterly destitute of resources and
friends, as she appeared from Roberts' account to be, should
have sought the huge wilderness of London, seemed marvellous.
Her few trinkets, and nearly all her scanty wardrobe, Roberts
more than suspected were at the pawnbroker's. The rent of
the lodgings had not been paid for the last month, and he be-
lieved that for some time past they had not had a sufficiency of
food, and were now in a state of literal starvation! Still, she
was cold and distant as ever, complained not, though daily be-
coming paler, thinner, weaker.
“ Does Gates the attorney visit her ;" I asked.
“No—she would not see him, but letters from him are almost
daily received."
Roberts, who was a widower, wished my wife to see her : he
was seriously apprehensive of some tragical result; and this,
apart from considerations of humanity, could not be permitted
for his own sake to occur in his house. I acquiesced ; and
Emily hurriedly equipped herself, and set off with Roberts to
Sherrard Street, Haymarket.


THE WIDOW.
On arriving at home, Roberts, to his own and my wife's
astonishment, found Gates there in a state of exuberant satisfac-
tion. He was waiting to pay any claim Roberts had upon Mrs.
Grey, to whom, the ex-attorney exultingly announced, he was to
be married on the following Thursday! Roberts, scarcely be-
lieving his ears, hastened up to the first floor, to ascertain if
Mrs. Grey had really given authority to Gates to act for her.
He tapped at the door, and a faint voice bidding him enter, he
saw at once what had happened. Mrs. Grey, pale as marble,
her eyes flashing with almost insane excitement, was standing by
a table, upon which a large tray had been placed covered with
soups, jellies, and other delicacies, evidently just brought in
from a tavern, eagerly watching her son partake of the first food
he had tasted for two whole days! Roberts saw clearly how it
was, and stammering a foolish excuse of having tapped at the
wrong door, hastened away. She had at last determined to
sacrifice herself to save her child's life! Emily, as she related
what she had seen and heard, wept with passionate grief, and I
was scarcely less excited : the union of Mrs. Grey with such a
man seemed like the profanation of a pure and holy shrine.
Then Gates was, spite of his windfall, as he called it, essenti-
ally a needy man! Besides—and this was the impenetrable
mystery of the affair—what inducement, what motive could in-
duce a mercenary wretch like Gates to unite himself in marriage
with poverty—with destitution ? The notion of his being influ-
enced by sentiment of any kind was, I felt, absurd. The more
I reflected on the matter, the more convinced I became that
there was some villainous scheme in process of accomplishment
by Gates, and I determined to make at least one resolute effort
to arrive at a solution of the perplexing riddle. The next day,
having a few hours to spare, the thought struck me that I would


THE WIDOW.
71
-
-
call on Mrs. Grey myself. I accordingly proceeded towards
her residence, and in Coventry Street happened to meet Jack-
son, a brother officer, who, I was aware, from a few inquiries I
and present position. After circumstantially relating the whole
matter, I asked him if he could possibly guess what the fellow's
object could be in contracting such a marriage ? .
“ Object !” replied Jackson ; “why, money of course : what
else? He has by some means become aware that the lady is
entitled to property, and he is scheming to get possession of it
as her husband.”
“My own conviction ! Yet the difficulty of getting at any
proof seems insurmountable.”
“ Just so. And, by the way, Gates is certainly in high
Rivers his cad, clerk he calls himself, has cast his old greasy skin,
and appears quite spruce and shining. And--now I remember
—what did you say was the lady's name ?”
“Grey."
“Grey! Ah, then I suppose it can have nothing to do with
it! It was a person of the name of Welton or Skelton that
called on us a month or two ago about Gates."
“What was the nature of the communication ?"
“I can hardly tell you : the charge was so loosely made, and
hurriedly withdrawn. Skelton-yes, it was Skelton-he resides
in pretty good style at Knightsbridge-called and said that
Gates had stolen a cheque or draft for five hundred pounds, and
other articles sent through him to some house in the city, of
which I think he said the principal was dead. He was advised
to apply through a solicitor to a magistrate, and went away, we
supposed, for that purpose ; but about three hours afterwards he


72
D 0 Ꮃ .
T Ꮋ Ꭼ
Ꮃ
returned, and in a hurried, flurried sort of way said he had been
mistaken, and that he withdrew every charge he had made
against Mr. Gates.”
“Very odd.”
“ Yes; but I don't see how it can be in any way connected
with this Mrs. Grey's affairs. Still, do you think it would be
of any use to sound Rivers ? I know the fellow yell, and where
I should be pretty sure to find him this evening."
It was arranged he should do so, and I proceeded on to Sher-
rard Street. Mrs. Grey was alone in the front apartment of
the ground-floor, and received me with much politeness. She
had, I saw, been weeping; her eyes were swollen and blood-
shot ; and she was deadly pale; but I looked in vain for any
indication of that utter desolation which a woman like her, con-
demned to such a sacrifice, might naturally be supposed to feel.
I felt greatly embarrassed as to how to begin ; but at length I
plunged boldly into the matter; assured her she was cruelly
deceived by Gates, who was in no condition to provide for her
and her son in even tolerable comfort; and that I was convinced
he had no other than a mercenary and detestable motive in
seeking marriage with her. Mrs. Grey heard me in so totally
unmoved a manner, and the feeling that I was really meddling
with things that did not at all concern me, grew upon me so.
rapidly, as I spoke to that unanswering countenance, that by the .
time I had finished my eloquent harangue, I was in a perfect
fever of embarrassment and confusion, and very heartily wished
myself out of the place. To my further bewilderment, Mrs.
Grey, when I had quite concluded, informed me—in considera-
tion, she said, of the courtesies I had shewn her when we were
fellow-travelers—that she was perfectly aware Mr. Gates'
motive in marrying her was purely a mercenary one ; and her


THE WIDOW.
73
own in consenting to the union, except as regarded her son, was,
she admitted, scarcely better. She added—riddle upon riddles !
--that she knew also that Mr. Gates was very poor—insolvent,
she understood. I rose mechanically to my feet, with a con-
fused notion swimming in my head that both of us at all events
could not be in our right senses. This feeling must have been
visible upon my face ; for Mrs. Grey added with a half-smile,
“ You cannot reconcile these apparent contradictions ; he
patient; you will perfectly comprehend them before long. But
as I wish not to stand too low in your estimation, I must tell
you that Mr. Gates is to subscribe a written agreement that we
separate the instant the ceremony has been performed. But
for that undertaking, I would have suffered any extremity, death
itself, rather than have consented to marry him !"
Still confused, stunned, as it were, by what I had heard, my
hand was on the handle of the door to let myself out, when a
thought arose in my mind. “Is it possible, Mrs. Grey,” I
said, “ that you can have been deceived into a belief that such
a promise, however formally set down, is of the slightest legal
value :-—that the law recognises, or would enforce, an instru-
ment to render nugatory the solemn obligation you will, after
signing it, make, to love, honor, obey, and cherish your hus-
band ?!" I had found the right chord at last. Mrs. Grey, as I
spoke, became deadly pale; and had she not caught at one of
the heavy chairs, she would have been unable to support
herself.
“Do I understand you to say,” she faintly and brokenly
gasped, “ that such an agreement as I have indicated, duly
sealed and witnessed, could not be summarily enforced by a
magistrate ?"
“Certainly it could not, my dear madam, and well Gates


74
THE WIDOW.
knows it to be so ; and I am greatly mistaken in the man, if,
once the irrevocable ceremony over, he would not be the first to
deride your credulity.”
“If that be so,” exclaimed the unfortunate lady with passion-
would that you and I were sleeping in your father's quiet
grave !"
“Say not so," I exclaimed with emotion, for I was afficted
by her distress. “Honor me with your confidence, and all may
yet be well.”
After much entreaty, she despairingly complied. The sub-
stance of her story, which was broken by frequent outbursts of
grief and lamentation, was as follows :—She was the only child
of a London merchant—Mr. Walton we will call him—who had
lived beyond his means, and failed ruinously to an immense
amount. His spirits and health were broken by this event,
which he survived only a few months. It happened that about
the time of the bankruptcy she had become acquainted with Mr.
John Grey, the only son of an eminent East India merchant,
but a man of penurious disposition and habits.
“ Mr. Ezekiel Grey ?"
The same. They became attached to each other, deeply
so ; and knowing that to solicit the elder Grey's consent to their
union would be tantamount to a sentence of immediate separa-
tion and estrangement, they unwisely, thoughtlessly, married,
about ten months after Mr. Walton's death, without the elder
Grey's knowledge. Gates, an attorney, then in apparently fair
circumstances, with whom young Mr. Grey had become ac-
quainted, and Anne Crawford, Maria Walton's servant, were the
witnesses of the ceremony, which, after due publication of banns,
was celebrated in St. Giles's Church. The young couple, after


76
Ꮃ .
Ꭽ
Ꮃ 1 Ꭰ
Ꭼ
for. So Mrs. Grey thought till she had another interview with
Gates, who unblushingly told her that unless she consented to
marry him, he would not prove, though he had abundant means
of doing so, that the person she had married at St. Giles's
Church was the son of Ezekiel Grey, the eminent merchant !
“ The name,” said the scoundrel, “will not help you ; there
are plenty of John Greys on that register ; and as for Anne
Crawford, she has been long since dead.” Mrs. Grey next
called on Mr. Skelton, and was turned out of the house as an
impostor ; and finally, having parted with everything upon which
she could raise money, and Gates reiterating his offer, or demand
rather, accompanied by the proposal of an immediate separation,
she had consented.
“ Courage, madam !" I exclaimed at the end of her narra-
tive, of which the above is the substance, and I spoke in a tone
of joyous confidence, which, more than my words, reassured
her : “I already see glimpses of daylight through this maze of
villainy. Gates has played a desperate game certainly, but one
which we shall, you may rely on it, easily baffle.” A knock at
the door interrupted me I peered through the blind, and saw
that it was Gates : “Siltuce-secrecy!" I emphatically urged
in a low voice, and with my finger on my lip, and left the room
before the street-door could be answered ; and by my friend
Roberts' contrivance, I was in a few minutes afterwards in the
street, all the time unobserved by the intruder.
The next day early Jackson called on me. He had seen
Rivers, but he seemed to know nothing, except, indeed, that it
was quite true Gates had received a five-hundred pound draft
from a house in India, which he, Rivers, had got notes for at the
Bank of England. There were also in the same parcel a gold
watch, he knew, and some jewelry, but from whom it all came,


THE WIDOW.
77
he, Rivers, was ignorant. Nothing but that had Jackson been
able to discover.
“Call you that nothing ?” said I, starting up, and hastily
swallowing my last cup of coffee. “It is enough, at all events,
to transport William Gates, Esquire !"
I had to wait that morning on especial business on the com-
missioner; and after the business upon which I had been sum-
moned had been despatched, I related the case of Grey versus
Gates as clearly and succinctly as I could. He listened with
great attention, and in about a quarter of an hour I left him
with as clear and unmistakable a path before me as it was pos-
sible to desire. I was passing down the stairs when I was re-
summoned.
“ You quite understand, Waters, that Skelton is not for a
moment to be lost sight of till his deposition has been taken ?”
“ Certainly, sir."
" That will do then."
Arrived at home, I despatched my wife in a cab for Mrs.
Grey. She soon arrived, and as much as was necessary of our
plan I confided to her. Mr. Gates had pressed her earnestly
that the ceremony should take place on the following morning.
By my directions she now wrote, although her trembling fingers
made an almost unintelligible scrawl of it, that as it was to be,
she agreed to his proposition, and should expect him at nine
o'clock.
Two hours afterwards, Jackson and I, having previously
watched the gentleman home, knocked at Mr. Skelton's house,
Knightsbridge, and requested to see him. At the very moment,
he came out of a side-room, and was proceeding up stairs.
“Mr. Skelton,” said I, stepping forward, “I must have a
private interview with you !” He was in an instant as pale as a


THE WIDOW.
79
“ Is it possible ? But I suspected” —
“No doubt. In the meantime, you will, if you please, ac-
company us. There is every desire to spare you,” I added,
perceiving him hesitate ; “ but our orders are peremptory.”
With a very ill grace Mr. Skelton complied, and we were rapidly
driven off.
The next morning Jackson, Skelton, and myself, were in
Sherrard Street before daybreak. Mrs. Grey was already up,
and at eight o'clock we sat down with her and her son to an ex-
cellent breakfast. She was charmingly dressed in the wedding
garments which Gates had purchased with her stolen money, and
I almost felt it in my heart to pity the unfortunate bridegroom,
rascal as he was, about to be suddenly disappointed of such a
bride and such a fortune! It was very necessary that she should
be so arrayed, for, as we had thought quite probable, Rivers
called a few minutes past eight with a present of jewelry, and
the bride's appearance must have completely disarmed any sus-
picion which his master might have entertained.
Breakfast was over : Mrs. Grey, with her son, was seated on
a couch in the front room, and we were lying perdu in the next
apartment, separated only by folding-doors, when a coach drew
up before the house ; a bridegroom's impatient summons thun-
dered at the door; and presently forth stepped Mr. Gates,
resplendently attired, followed by his man Rivers, who was, it
appeared, to give the bride away. Mr. Gates entered the
presence of beautiful Mrs. Grey in immense triumph. He ap-
proached her with the profoundest gallantry; and was about to
speak, when Jackson and I, who had been sedulously watching
through the chink of the slightly-opened doors, advanced into
the room, followed by Mr. Skelton. His attitude of terror and
surprise was one of the most natural performances I ever wito


80
THE WIDOW.
nessed. He turned instinctively as if to flee. My grasp was in
an instant on his collar.
“ The game is up, my good Mr. Gates : I arrest you for
felony !"
“ Felony !"
“Ay, truly. For stealing a gold watch, diamond pin, and
à cheque for five hundred pounds, sent through you to this
lady.”
All his insolent swagger vanished in an instant, and the abject
scoundrel threw himself at Mrs. Grey's feet, and absolutely
howled for mercy.
“I will do anything," he gaspingly protested; "anything
you require, so that you will save me from these men !”
“Where is Crawford ?" I asked, desirous of taking immediate,
but not, I hope, unfair advantage of the rascal's terror ; "she
who witnessed this lady's marriage ?”
“At Leamington, Warwickshire,” he replied.
“Very good. Now, Mrs. Grey, if you will leave us, I shall
be obliged. We must search this gentleman, and perhaps”_
She vanished in an instant : her gentleness of disposition was, I
saw, rapidly mastering all resentment. I carried the watch we
took out of Gates's pocket to her, and she instantly recognised
it to be her husband's. A fifty and a twenty-pound bank-note,
corresponding to the numbers on our list, we extricated from the
disappointed bridegroom's pocket-book. “And now, sir, if you
please,” said I, “we will adjourn to your lodgings.” A savage
scowl was his only reply, not at all discomposing to me, and we
were soon busy ransacking his hidden hoards. We found several
cther articles sent by Mr. John Grey to his wife, and three
letters to her, which, as corroborative evidence, would leave no
doubt as to who her husband was. Our next visit was to a police


THE WIDOW.
court, where Mr. William Gates was fully committed for trial.
He was in due time convicted of stealing the watch, and sen-
tenced to transportation for seven years.
Mrs. Grey's marriage, and her son's consequent succession to
the deceased merchant's wealth, were not disputed. She has
never remarried, and lives now in beneficent affluence in one of
the new squares beyond the Edgeware Road with her son, who,
though now six-and-twenty years of age, or thereabouts, is still
unappropriated; but “the good time is coming,” so at least
hinted a few days ago the fashionable “ Morning Post.”


Parof V.
THE TWINS.
The records of police courts afford but imperfect evidence of the
business really effected by the officers attached to them. The
machinery of English criminal law is, in practice, so subservient
to the caprice of individual prosecutors, that instances are con-
stantly occurring in which flagrant violations of natural justice
are, from various motives, corrupt and otherwise, withdrawn not
only from the cognizance of judicial authority, but from the
reprobation of public opinion. Compromises are usually effected
between the apprehension of the inculpated parties and the public
examination before a magistrate. The object of prosecution has
been perhaps obtained by the preliminary step of arrest, or a
criminal understanding has been arrived at in the interval; and
it is then found utterly hopeless to proceed, however manifest
may have appeared the guilt of the prisoner. If you adopt the
expedient of compelling the attendance of the accused, it is, in
nine cases out of ten, mere time and trouble thrown away. The
utter forgetfulness of memory, the loose recollection of facts so
vividly remembered but a few hours before, the delicately-scru-
pulous hesitation to depose confidently to the clearest verities
evinced by the reluctant prosecutor, render a conviction almost
impossible; so that, except in cases of flagrant and startling
crimes, which are of course earnestly prosecuted by the crown
lawyers, offences against “our sovereign lady the Queen, her
crown, and dignity,” as criminal indictments run, if no aggrieved


THE TWINS.
83
subject voluntarily appears to challenge justice in behalf of his
liege lady, remain unchastised, and not unfrequently unexposed.
From several examples of this prevalent abuse which have come
within my own knowledge, I select the following instance, merely
changing the names of the parties :-
My services, the superintendent late one afternoon informed
me, were required in a perplexed and entangled affair, which
would probably occupy me for some time, as orders had been
given to investigate the matter thoroughly. “There,” he added,
“is a Mr. Repton, a highly-respectable country solicitor's card
He is from Lancashire, and is staying at Webb's Hotel, Picca-
dilly. You are to see him at once. He will put you in pos-
session of all the facts—surmises rather, I should say, for the
facts, to my apprehension, are scant enough—connected with
the case, and you will then use all possible diligence to ascertain
first if the alleged crime has been really committed, and if so,
of course to bring the criminal or criminals to justice.”
I found Mr. Repton, a stout, bald-headed, gentlemanly person,
apparently about sixty years of age, just in the act of going out.
“ I have a pressing engagement for this evening, Mr. Waters,”
said he, after glancing at the introductory note I had brought,
“and cannot possibly go into the business with the attention and
minuteness it requires till the morning. But I'll tell you what:
one of the parties concerned, and the one, too, with whom you
will have especially to deal, is, I know, to be at Covent Garden
Theatre this evening. It is of course necessary that you should
be thoroughly acquainted with his person; and if you will go
with me in the cab that is waiting outside, I will step with you
into the theatre, and point him out.” I assented; and on
entering Covent Garden pit, Mr. Repton, who kept behind
me, to avoid observation, directed my attention to a group of


84
THE TWINS.
persons occupying the front seats of the third box in the lower
tier from the stage, on the right-hand side of the house. They
were—a gentleman of about thirty years of age; his wife, a
very elegant person, a year or two younger; and three children,
the eldest of whom, a boy, could not have been more than six
or seven years old. This done, Mr. Repton left the theatre,
and about two hours afterwards I did the same.
The next morning I breakfasted with the Lancashire solicitor
by appointment. As soon as it was concluded, business was at
once entered upon.
“You closely observed Sir Charles Malvern yesterday evening,
I presume ?” said Mr. Repton.
“I paid great attention to the gentleman you pointed out to
me,” I answered, “ if he be Sir Charles Malvern."
“He is, or at least- But of that presently. First let me
inform you that Malvern, a few months ago, was a beggard game-
ster, or nearly so, to speak with precision. He is now in good
bodily health, has a charming wife, and a family to whom he is
much attached, an unencumbered estate of about twelve thou-
sand a year, and has not gambled since he came into possession
of the property. This premised, is there, think you, anything
remarkable in Sir Charles's demeanor ?”
“Singularly so. My impression was, that he was laboring
under a terrible depression of spirits, caused, I imagined, by
pecuniary difficulties. His manner was restless, abstracted. He
paid no attention whatever to anything going on on the stage,
except when his wife or one of the children especially challenged
his attention; and then, a brief answer returned, he relapsed
into the same restless unobservance as before. He is very ner-
vous too. The box door was suddenly opened once or twice,
and I noticed his sudden start each time."


THE TWINS.
85
“You have exactly described him. Well, that perturbed,
unquiet feverishness of manner has constantly distinguished him
since his accession to the Redwood estates, and only since then.
It strengthens me and one or two others in possibly an un-
founded suspicion, which — But I had better, if I wish to
render myself intelligible, relate matters in due sequence.
“Sir Thomas Redwood, whose property in Lancashire is
chiefly in the neighborhood of Liverpool, met his death, as did
his only son Mr. Archibald Redwood, about six months ago, in
a very sudden and shocking manner. They were out trying a
splendid mare for the first time in harness, which Sir Thomas
had lately purchased at a very high price. Two grooms on
horseback were in attendance, to render assistance if required,
for the animal was a very powerful, high-spirited one. All went
very well till they arrived in front of Mr. Meredith's place, Oak
Villa. This gentleman has a passion for firing off a number of
brass cannon on the anniversary of such events as he deems
worthy of the honor. This happened, unfortunately, to be one
of Mr. Meredith's gunpowder days; and as Sir Thomas and his
son were passing, a stream of light flashed directly in the eyes
of the mare, followed by the roar of artillery, at no more than
about ten paces off. The terrified animal became instantly
unmanageable, got the bit between her teeth, and darted off at
the wildest speed. The road is a curved and rugged one ; and
after tearing along for about half a mile, the off-wheel of the
gig came, at an abrupt turn, full against a milestone. The
tremendous shock hurled the two unfortunate gentlemen upon
the road with frightful violence, tore the vehicle almost com-
pletely assunder, and so injured the mare, that she died the next
day. The alarmed grooms, who had not only been unable to
render assistance, but even to keep up with the terrified mare,


THE TWINS.
her offspring the race of the Redwoods might be continued in a
direct line. The family estates, I should tell you, being strictly
entailed on heirs-male, devolved, if no son of Mr. Archibald
Redwood should bar his claim, upon Charles Malvern, the son
of a cousin of the late Sir Thomas Redwood. The baronet had
always felt partially towards Malvern, and had assisted him
pecuniarily a hundred times. Sir Thomas also directed me to
draw as quickly as I could a short will, bequeathing Mr. Charles
Malvern twenty thousand pounds out of the personals. I wrote
as expeditiously as I could, but by the time the paper was ready
for his signature, Sir Thomas was no longer conscious. I placed
the pen in his hand, and I fancied he understood the purpose, for
his fingers closed faintly upon it; but the power to guide was
utterly gone, and only a slight, scrambling stroke marked the
paper as the pen slid across it in the direction of the falling arm.
“Mr. Marlvern arrived at the manor house about an hour
after Sir Thomas breathed his last. It was clearly apparent
through all his sorrow, partly real, I have no doubt, as well as
partly assumed, that joy, the joy of riches, splendor, station, was
dancing at his heart, and, spite of all his efforts to subdue or
conceal it, sparkling in his eye. I briefly, but gently as I could,
acquainted him with the true position of affairs. The revulsion
of feeling which ensued entirely unmanned him ; and it was not
till an hour afterwards that he recovered his self-possession suffi-
ciently to converse reasonably and coolly upon his position. At
last he became apparently reconciled to the sudden overclouding
of his imaginatively-brilliant prospects, and it was agreed that as
he was a relative of the widow, he should at once set off to break
the sad news to her. Well, a few days after his departure, I
received a letter from him, stating that Lady Redwood—I don't
think, by the way, that, as her husband died before succeeding


S8
THE TWINS.
to the baronetey, she is entitled to that appellation of honor ;
we, however, call her so out of courtesy—that Lady Redwood,
though prematurely confined in consequence of the intelligence
of her husband's untimely death, had given birth to a female
child, and that both mother and daughter were as well as could
be expected. This, you will agree, seemed perfectly satisfac-
tory?”
“Entirely so."
“So I thought. Mr. Malvern was now unquestionably,
whether Sir Charles Malvern or not, the proprietor of the
Redwood estates, burthened as with a charge, in accordance
with the conditions of the entails, of a thousand pounds life
annuity to the late Mr. Redwood's infant daughter.
“ Sir Charles returned to Redwood manor house, where his
wife and family soon afterwards arrived. Lady Redwood had
been joined, I understood, by her mother, Mrs. Ashton, and
would, when able to undertake the journey, return to her ma-
ternal home. It was about two months after Sir Thomas Red-
wood's death that I determined to pay Lady Redwood a visit,
in order to the winding up of the personal estate, which it was
desirable to accomplish as speedily as possible; and then a new
and terrible light flashed upon me.”
“What, in heaven's name !” I exclaimed, for the first time
breaking silence-_“ what could there be to reveal ?”
“Only,” rejoined Mr. Repton, “that, ill, delirious, as Lady
Redwood admitted herself to have been, it was her intimate,
unconquerable conviction that she had given birth to twins !"
“Good God! And you suspect ” —
“We don't know what to suspect. Should the lady's confi-
You understand ?"


THE TWINS.
89
“I do. But is there any tangible evidence to justify this
horrible suspicion ?”
“Yes; the surgeon-apothecary and his wife, a Mr. and Mrs.
Williams, who attended lady Redwood, have suddenly disap-
peared from Chester, and, from no explainable motive, having
left or abandoned a fair business there.”
“ That has certainly an ugly look.”
“ True; and a few days ago I received information that Wil-
liams has been seen in Birmingham He was well dressed, and
not apparently in any business.”
“ There certainly appears some ground for suspicion. What
plan of operations do you propose ?”
“ That,” replied Mr. Repton, “I must leave to your more
practised sagacity. I can only undertake that no means shall
be lacking that may be required.”
“It will be better, perhaps,” I suggested, after an interval of
reflection, “ that I should proceed to Birmingham at once. You
have of course an accurate description of the persons of Wil-
liams and his wife ready ?"
“I have; and very accurate pen-and-ink sketches I am told
they are. Besides these, I have also here,” continued Mr.
Repton, taking from his pocket-book a sheet of carefully-folded
satin paper, “ A full description of the female baby, drawn up
by its mother, under the impression that twins always, I believe
they generally do—closely resemble each other. “Light hair,
blue eyes, dimpled chin ”—and so on. The lady—a very charm-
ing person, I assure you, and meek and gentle as a fawn—is
chiefly anxious to recover her child. You and I, should our
suspicions be confirmed, have other duties to perform.”
This was pretty nearly all that passed, and the next day I
was in Birmingham.


90
THE TWINS.
The search, as I was compelled to be very cautious in my
inquiries, was tedious, but finally successful. Mr. and Mrs. Wil-
liams I discovered living in a pretty house, with neat grounds
attached, about two miles out of Birmingham, on the coach road
to Wolverhampton. Their assumed name was Burridge, and
I ascertained from the servant-girl, who fetched their dinner
and supper, beer, and occasionally wine and spirits, from a
neighboring tavern, that they had one child, a boy, a few
months old, of whom neither father nor mother seemed very
fond. By dint of much perseverance, I at length got upon
pretty familiar terms with Mr. Burridge, alias Williams. He
spent his evenings regularly in a tavern; but with all the
pains-taking, indefatigable ingenuity I employed, the chief
knowledge I acquired, during three weeks of assiduous endea-
vor, was, that my friend Burridge intended, immediately after
a visit which he expected shortly to receive from a rich and
influential relative in London, to emigrate to America, at all
events to go abroad. This was, however, very significant and
precious information ; and very rarely, indeed, was he, after
I had obtained it, out of my sight or observation. At length
perseverance obtained its reward. One morning I discerned
my friend, much more sprucely attired than ordinarily, make
his way to the railway station, and there question with eager
looks every passenger that alighted from the first-class car-
riages. At last a gentleman, whom I instantly recognized,
spite of his shawl and other wrappings, arrived by the express
train from London. Williams instantly accosted him, a cab
was called, and away they drove. I followed in another, and
saw them both alight at a hotel in New Street. I also alighted,
and was mentally debating how to proceed, when Williams
came out of the tavern, aud proceeded in the direction of his


THE TWINS.
91
home. I followed, overtook him, and soon contrived to ascer-
tain that he and his wife had important business to transact
in Birmingham the next morning, which would render it im-
possible he should meet me, as I proposed, till two or three
o'clock in the afternoon at the earliest; and the next morning,
my esteemed friend informed me, he would leave the place,
probably for ever. An hour after this interesting conversation,
I, accompanied by the chief of the Birmingham police, was
closeted with the landlord of the hotel in New Street, a highly-
respectable person, who promised us every assistance in his
power. Sir Charles Malvern had, we found, engaged a private
room for the transaction of important business with some per-
sons he expected in the morning, and our plans were soon fully
matured and agreed upon.
I slept little that night, and immediately after breakfast
hastened with my Birmingham colleague to the hotel. The
apartment assigned for Sir Charles Malvern's use had been
a bedroom, and a large wardrobe, with a high wing at each
end, still remained in it. We tried if it would hold us,
and with very little stooping and squeezing, found it would do
very well. The landlord soon gave us the signal to be on
the alert, and in we jammed ourselves, locking the wing-doors
on the inside. A minute or two afterwards, Sir Charles, and
Mr. and Mrs. Williams entered, and, paper, pens, and ink
having been brought, business commenced in right earnest.
Their conversation it is needless to detail. It will suffice to
observe that it was manifest Sir Charles, by a heavy bribe,
had induced the accoucheur and his wife to conceal the birth
of the male child, which, as I suspected, was that which Wil-
liams and his spouse were bringing up as their own. I must
do the fictitious baronet the justice to say that he had from


92
THE TWINS.
the first the utmost anxiety that no harm should befall the
infant. Mr. Malvern's nervous dread lest his confederates
should be questioned, had induced their hurried departure
from Chester, and it now appeared that he had become aware
of the suspicions entertained by Mr. Repton, and could not
rest till the Williams's and the child were safe out of the
country. It was now insisted, by the woman more especially,
that the agreement for the large annual payment to be made
by Sir Charles should be fairly written out and signed in plain
“ black and white,” to use Mrs. Williams' expression, in order
that no future misunderstandings might arise. This, Mr. Mal-
vern strongly objected to; but finding the woman would accept
of no other terms, he sullenly complied, and at the same time
reiterated, that if any harm should befall the boy- to whom
he intended, he said, to leave a handsome fortune—he would
cease, regardless of consequences to himself, to pay the Wil-
liams's a single shilling.
A silence of several minutes followed, broken only by the
scratching of the pen on the paper. The time to me seemed
an age, squeezed, crooked, stifled as I was in that narrow box,
and so I afterwards learned it did to my fellow-sufferer. At
length Mr. Malvern said, in the same cautious whisper in
which they had all hitherto spoken. “ This will do, I think ;"!
and read what he had written. Mr. and Mrs. Williams sig-
nified their approval ; and as matters were now fully ripe, I
gently turned the key, and very softly pushed open the door.
The backs of the amiable trio were towards me, and as my
boots were off, and the apartment was thickly carpeted, I
approached unperceived, and to the inexpressible horror and
astonishment of the parties concerned, whose heads were bent
eagerly over the important document, a hand, which belonged


THE TVINS.
to neither of them, was thrust silently but swiftly forward,
and grasped the precious instrument. A fierce exclamation
from Mr. Malvern as he started from his seat, and a convul-
sive scream from Mrs. Williams as she fell back in hers,
followed; and to add to the animation of the tableau, my
friend in the opposite wing emerged at the same moment from
his hiding-place.
Mr. Malvern comprehended at a glance the situation of affairs,
and made a furious dash at the paper. I was quicker as well as
stronger than he, and he failed in his object. Resistance was of
course out of the question ; and in less than two hours we were
speeding on the rail towards London, accompanied by the child,
whom we entrusted to Williams' servant-maid.
Mrs. Repton was still in town, and Mrs. Ashton, Lady Red-
wood, and her unmarried sister, in their impatience of intelli-
gence, had arrived several days before. I had the pleasure
of accompanying Mrs. Repton with the child and his tempo-
rary nurse to Osborne's Hotel in the Adelphi ; and I really
at first feared for the excited mother's reason, or that she
would do the infant a mischief, so tumultuous, so frenzied,
was her rapturous joy at the recovery of her lost treasure.
When placed in the cot beside the female infant, the resem-
blance of the one to the other was certainly almost perfect.
I never saw before nor since so complete a likeness. This
was enough for the mother ; but, fortunately, we had much
more satisfactory evidence, legally viewed, to establish the
identity of the child in a court of law, should the necessity
arise for doing so.
Here, as far as I am concerned, all positive knowledge of
this curious piece of family history ends. Of subsequent trans-
actions between the parties I had no personal cognizance. I


94
THE TWINS.
only know there was a failure of justice, and I can pretty
well guess from what motives. The parties I arrested in
Birmingham were kept in strict custody for several days; but
no inducement, no threats, could induce the institutors of the
inquiry to appear against the detected criminals.
Mrs. and Miss Ashton, Lady Redwood and her children,
left town the next day but one, for Redwood Manor; and Mr.
Repton coolly told the angry superintendent that he had no
instructions to prosecute.” He, too, was speedily off, and the
prisoners were necessarily discharged out of custody.
I saw about three weeks afterwards in a morning paper that
Mr. Malvern, “ whom the birth of a posthumous heir in a direct
line had necessarily deprived of all chance of succession to the
Redwood estates, and the baronetcy, which the newspapers
had so absurdly conferred on him, was, with his amiable lady
and family, about to leave England for Italy, where they
intended to remain some time.” The expressed, but uncom-
pleted will of the deceased baronet, Sir Thomas Redwood,
had been, it was further stated, carried into effect, and the
legacy intended for Mr. Malvern paid over to him. The Wil-
liams's never, to my knowledge, attained to the dignity of a
notice in the newspapers; but I believe they pursued their
original intention of passing over to America.
Thus not only “ Offence's gilded hand,” but some of the best
feelings of our nature, not unfrequently, “shove by Justice,"
and place a concealing gloss over deeds which, in other cir-
cumstances, would have infallibly consigned the perpetrators to
a prison, or perhaps the hulks. Whether, however, any enact-
ment could effectually grapple with an abuse which springs from
motives so natural and amiable, is a question which I must leave
to wiser heads than mine to discuss and determine.


Part VI.
THE PURSUIT.
The reader need scarcely be told that albeit police-officers,
like other men, chiefly delight to recount their successful ex-
ploits, they do, nevertheless, experience numerous and vexatious
failures and disappointments. One especially I remember, of
which the irritating recollection did not pass away for many
weeks. I had been for some time in pursuit of a rather eminent
rascal, though one young in years, and by marriage respectably
connected, who, by an infamous abuse of the trust reposed in
him by the highly-respectable firm who employed him, had con-
trived to possess himself of a large sum of money, with which,
or at least with the portion of it falling to his share—for we
discovered that he had been for some time connected with a
gang of first-rate swindlers—he hoped to escape to America.
The chase was hot after him ; and spite of all his doublings and
turnings, and the false scents adroitly thrown out by his con-
federates with the view to favor his escape, I at last fairly ran
him to earth at Plymouth, though in what precise spot of it he
burrowed I could not for the moment ascertain. Neither was I
well acquainted with his features ; but in the description of his
person furnished me there were certain indelible marks enume-
rated which, upon strict examination, could not fail to determine
his identity. He purposed, I ascertained, to attempt leaving
England in a barque bound for New York, which was to sail
from Plymouth on the day after I arrived there. Of this I was


96
THE PURSUIT.
fully satisfied, and I determined to capture him on board. Ac-
cordingly, about half an hour before the ship was to sail, and
after all the passengers had embarked, two of the local officers
and I got into a boat which I had some time previously engaged
to be in readiness, and put off to the vessel. The wind was de-
cidedly fair for the emigrant ship ; and so stiffly did it blow from
the north-east, that four hands, I was informed, were required,
not indeed to convey us swiftly out, but to pull the boat back
against the wind, and the strong tide which would be running
outside the breakwater. The sea dashed smartly at times over
the boat, and the men pulled their sou’-wester caps well over
their eyes, to shield themselves from the blinding spray. We
were speedily on board ; and the captain, although much an-
noyed at the delay, paraded his motley passengers as well as
crew before us; but to my extreme surprise our bird was not
amongst them! Every possible and impossible hiding-place
was thoroughly but vainly searched ; and we were at length
compelled to a reluctant admission that the gentleman we were
in quest of, had not yet honored the captain of the Columbia
with his patronage.
We sullenly returned into the boat ; and the instant we did
so, the anchor, already atrip, was brought home; the ship's
bows fell rapidly off ; her crowded canvass dilated and swelled in
the spanking breeze, and she sprang swiftly off upon her course.
It was a pretty and somewhat exciting spectacle ; and I and my
companions continued to watch the smartly-handled vessel with
much interest till a point of land hid her from our view. We
then turned our faces towards Plymouth, from which, I was
surprised to find, we were apparently as distant as ever. “The
tide, let alone the wind, is dead against us !” growled the master
of the boat, who was now pulling the near oar, in reply to a re-


THE PURSUIT.
97
mark from one of the Plymouth officers. This man had steered
on going out. A quick suspicion flashed across me. “Where
is the other boatman who came out with us ?” I sharply de-
manded. The old seaman, instead of replying, turned himself
half round towards the weather-bow oar, exclaiming, “Easy,
Billy_easy ; let her nose lay a little closer to the wind !”
This, I readily saw, was done to conceal a momentary confu-
sion, arising from the suddenness of my question—a very slight
one by the by, for the fellow was an old man-of-war's man, with
a face hardened and bronzed by service, weather, grog, and
tobacco smoke. I repeated the question in a more peremptory
tone. The veteran first deliberately squirted a mouthful of
tobacco juice over the side, and then with an expression of his
cast-iron phiz, which it is impossible by words to convey a dis-
tinct idea of, so compounded was it of diabolical squint, lamb-
like simplicity, and impudent cunning, replied, “ That wor a
passenger to Yankee Land—a goin' there, I'm purty suspicious,
for the benefit of his health.” I looked at the Plymouth officers,
and they at me. The impudent ingenuity of the trick that had
been played us seemed scarcely credible. “He-he-ho-ho!!!
rumbled out of the tobacco-stifled throat of the old rogue, “ If
he wor somebody you wanted, it wor uncommon well done.
Didn't you obsarve him jump into the main chains of the barkey
jist as you wor leavin' on her, and cast us off a minute after-
wards? He perfarred stoppin' with us whilst you wor rummagin’
the hooker-he-he-ho-ho!”
It was useless bandying words with the fellow; and though I
felt desperately savage, I had sense enough to hold my tongue.
“Pull smartly,” said one of the Plymouth officers ; "a shot will
bring her too yet.”
“Why, ay,” rejoined the imperturbable seaman ; " it mout, if


98
THE PURSUIT.
you could get speech of the admiral in time ; but I'm thinkin'
we shall be a good while yet pullin' in against this choppin' wind
and head sea.”
And sure enough they were ! More than another hour, by
some boatman-craft unexplainable by me, for the sailors appa-
rently rowed with all their might, were we in reaching the
landing-place; and by that time all chance of compelling the
return of the Columbia was long past.
It would be, I knew, impossible to prove complicity on the
part of the owner of the boat with the escaped felon, and I pre-
ferred to digest the venom of my spleen in silence, rather than
by a useless display of it to add to the chuckling delight of the
old rascal of a boatman.
We had passed some distance along the quay when one of the
local officers, addressing a youngish sailor, who, with folded arms
and a short pipe in his mouth was standing in philosophical con-
templation of the sea and weather, said, “I suppose there is no
chance of the emigrant ship that sailed a while ago putting in at
any other port along the coast ?”
The man took the pipe from his mouth, regarded the ques-
tioner for a few moments with an expression of contemptuous
curiosity anything but flattering to its object, and bawled out,
addressing himself to a weather-beaten seaman a few yards off,
“I say, Tom Davis, here's a Blue Bottle as wants to know the
name and bearins of the port off the Land's End which the
barkey that sailed awhile agone for Ameriker with a north-easter
kicking her endways is likely to bring up in : I'm not acquainted
with it myself or else I'd tell the gentleman.”
The laugh from two or three bystanders which followed this
sally greatly irritated the officer, and he would have indulged in


THE PURSUIT.
an angry reply had not his more prudent comrade taken him by
the arm and urged him away.
“Ay, ay,” said the veteran addressed as Tom Davis, as we
were passing him, “ Jim there has always got plenty of jawing
tackle aboard ; but, Lord love ye, he's a poor dumb cretur at
understanding the signs of the weather! He's talkin' about
north-easters, and don't see that the wind's beginning to chop
about like a bumbo at womanwith a dozen customers round her
It's my opinion, and Tom Davis ought by this time to be summut
of a judge, that, instead of a north-easter, it's a precious sight
more likely to be blowing a sou’-wester before two hours are
past, and a sneezer too ; and then the Columby, if she ha’nt
made a good offin', which she is not likely to have done, will be
back again in a brace of shakes.”
“Do you think it probable,” I eagerly asked, “ that the Co-
lumbia will be obliged to put back into Plymouth ?”
“I don't know about probable. It's not so sure as death or
quarter-day, but it's upon the cards for all that.”
“ Will it be early in the night, think you, that she will run in,
if at all ?"
“Ah! there now you wants to know too much ;” said the old
seaman turning on his heel. “All I can say is, that if you find
in an hour or so's time that the wind has chopped round to the
sou’-west, or within a p’int or two, and that it's blowin' the
buttons off your coat one after another, the Columby, if she's
lucky, wont be far off.”
The half-bantering prediction of the old seaman was confirmed
by others whom we consulted, and measures for preventing our
quarry from landing, and again giving us the slip, were at once
discussed and resolved upon. We then separated, and I pro-
ceeded to the tavern at which I had put up to get some dinner.


THE PURSUIT.'
10.101
.
port whom I had previously spoken with ; " the Columbia will,
I think, be pretty sure to run in with the tide.”
" When do you say is the very earliest time she may be ex-
pected ?"
“Well, in my opinion, judging from where she was when I
was on the look-out a quarter of an hour agone, not under three
hours. Let me see. It's now just upon the stroke of five :
about eight o'clock, I should say, she will be here ; certainly
not before, perhaps much later; and if the captain is very ob-
stinate, and prefers incurring a rather serious risk to returning,
it may be of course not at all.”
I thanked him, and as remaining on the bleak quay till eight
o'clock or thereabout was as useless as unpleasant, I retraced my
steps towards the Royal George Tavern ; calling in my way on
the Plymouth officers, and arranging that one of them should
relieve me at ten o'clock; it having been previously agreed that
we should keep an alternate watch during the night of two
hours each. I afterwards remembered that this arrangement
was repeated, in a tone of voice incautiously loud, at the bar of
a public-house, where they insisted upon my taking a glass of
porter. There were, I should say, more than a dozen persons
present at the time.
The fire was blazing brightly in the parlor of the Royal George
when I entered, and I had not been seated near it many minutes
before I became exceedingly drowsy; and no wonder, for I had
not been in bed the previous night, and the blowing of the wind
in my eyes for a couple of hours had of course added greatly to
their heavy weariness. Habit had long enabled me to awake at
any moment I had previously determined on, so that I felt no
anxiety as to oversleeping myself; and having pulled out my
watch, noticed that it was barely half-past five, wound it up, and


102
rovTHE PURSUIT.
placed it before me on the table, I settled myself comfortably
in an arm-chair, and was soon sound asleep.
I awoke with a confused impression, not only that I had quite
slept the time I had allotted myself, but that strangers were in
the room and standing about me. I was mistaken in both par-
ticulars. There was no one in the parlor but myself, and on
glancing at the watch I saw that it was but a quarter-past six.
I rose from the chair, stirred the fire, took two or three turns
about the room, listened for a few minutes to the howling wind
and driving rain which shook and beat against the casement, sat
down again, and took up a newspaper which was lying on the
table.
I had read for some time when the parlor door opened, and
who should walk in but the young wife and elderly gentleman
whom I had seen in the street. I'at once concluded that they
had sought me with reference to the fugitive on board the Co-
lumbia ; and the venerable old man's rather elaborate apologies
for intrusion over, and both of them seated on the side of the
fireplace opposite to me, I waited with grave curiosity to hear
what they might have to say.
An awkward silence ensued. The young woman's eyes,
swollen with weeping, were bent upon the floor, and her entire
aspect and demeanor exhibited extreme sorrow and dejection.
I pitied her, so sad and gentle did she look, from my very soul.
The old man appeared anxious and careworn, and for some time
remained abstractedly gazing at the fire without speaking. I
had a mind to avoid a painful, and, I was satisfied, profitless
interview, by abruptly retiring; and was just rising for the
purpose when a fiercer tempest-blast than before, accompanied
by the pattering of heavy rain-drops against the window-panes,
caused me to hesitate at exposing inyself unnecessarily to the


THE PURSUIT.
103
rigor of such a night ; and at the same moment the gray-haired
man suddenly raised his eyes and regarded me with a fixed and
grave scrutiny.
“ This war of the elements,” he at last said ; “ this wild up-
roar of physical nature, is but a type, Mr. Waters, and a faint
one, of the convulsions, the antagonisms, the hurtful conflicts
ever raging in the moral world.”
I bowed dubious assent to a proposition not apparently very
pertinent to the subject, which I supposed chiefly occupied his
mind, and he proceeded.
“It is difficult for dim-eyed beings such as we are always to
trace the guiding hand of the ever-watchful Power which con-
ducts the complex events of this changing, many-colored life to
wise and foreseen issues. The conflicts of faith with actual ex-
perience are hard for poor humanity to bear, and still keep un-
impaired the jewel beyond price of unwavering trust in Him to
whom the secrets of all hearts are known. Ah, sir ! guilt,
flaunting its vanities in high places—innocence in danger of
fetters—are perplexing subjects to dwell upon !”
I was somewhat puzzled by this strange talk, but, hopeful that
a meaning would presently appear, I again silently intimated
partial concurrence in his general views.
“There is no longer much doubt, Mr. Waters, I believe,” he
after a few moments added in a much more business-like and
sensible tone,“ that the Columbia will he forced back again,
and that the husband of this unhappy girl will consequently fall
into the hands of the blind, unreasoning law. ... You appear
surprised. ... My name, I should have mentioned, is Thomp-
son ; and be assured, Mr. Waters, that when the real facts of
this most unfortunate affair are brought to your knowledge, no
one will more bitterly regrut than yourself that this tempest and


104
THE PURSUIT.
sudden change of wind should have flung back the prey both
you and I believed had escaped upon these fatal shores.”
“ From your name I presume you to be the father of this
young woman, and ”_
“Yes,” he interrupted; "and the father-in-law of the inno-
cent man you have hunted down with such untiring activity and
zeal. But I blame you not,” he added, checking himself—“I
blame you not. You have only done what you held to be your
duty. But the ways of Providence are indeed inscrutable !"
A passionate burst of grief from the pale, weeping wife testi-
fied that, whatever might be the fugitive husband's offences or
crimes against society, he at least retained her affection and es-
teem.
“It is very unpleasant,” I observed, “to discuss such a
subject in the presence of relatives of the inculpated person,
especially as I as yet perceive no useful result likely to arise
from it; still, since you as it were force me to speak, you must
permit me to say, that it appears to me you are either grossly
deceived yourself, or attempting for some purpose or other to
impose upon my credulity.”
“Neither, sir-neither,” replied Mr. Thompson with warmth.
“I certainly am not deceived myself, and I should hope that
my character, which I doubt not is well known to you, will shield
me from any suspicion of a desire to deceive others.”
“I am quite aware, Mr. Thompson, of your personal re-
spectability ; still you may be unwittingly led astray. I very
much regret to say, that the evidence against your daughter's
husband is overwhelming, and I fear unanswerable.”
“ The best, kindest of husbands !” brake in the sobbing
wife ; “ the most injured, the most persecuted of men !"
“It is useless,” said I, rising and seizing my hat, “ to pro-


THE PURSUIT.
105
long this conversation. If he be innocent, he will no doubt be
acquitted; but as it is now close upon half-past seven o'clock, I
must beg to take my leave.”
“ One moment, sir,” said Mr. Thompson hastily. “To be
frank with you, it was entirely for the purpose of asking your
advice as an experienced person that we are here. You have
heard of this young man's father ?”
“ Joel Masters ?—Yes. A gambler, and otherwise disrepu-
table person, and one of the most specious rascals, I am told,
under the sun.”
“ You have correctly described him. You are not perhaps
acquainted with his handwriting ?”
“Yes, I am ; partially so at least. I have a note in my
pocket-here it is—addressed to me by the artful old scoundrel
for the purpose of luring me from the right track after his son,”?
“ Then, Mr. Waters, please to read this letter from him,
dated Liverpool, where it appears he was yesterday to embark
for America."
- The letter Mr. Thompson placed in my hands startled me not
a little. It was a circumstantial confession addressed by Joel
Masters to his son, setting forth that he, the father, was alone
guilty of the offence with which his unfortunate son was charged,
and authorizing him to make a full disclosure should he fail in
making his escape from the country. This was, I thought, an
exceedingly cheap kind of generosity on the part of honest Joel,
now that he had secured himself by flight from the penalties of
justice. The letter went on to state where a large amount of
bank-notes and acceptances, which the writer had been unable
to change or discount, would be found.
“ This letter,” said I,“ is a very important one ; but where
is the envelop ?"


106
THE PURSUIT.
Mr. Thompson searched his pocket-book : it was not there.
“I must have dropped it,” he exclaimed, “ at my lodgings.
Pray wait till I return. I am extremely anxious to convince
you of this unfortunate young man's innocence. I will not be
more than a few minutes absent.” He then hurried out.
I looked at my watch : it wanted five-and-twenty minutes to
eight. “I have but a very few minutes to spare," I observed
to the still passionately grieving wife ; “ and as to the letter, you
had better place it in the hands of the attorney for the defence.”
“Ah, sir,” sobbed the wife, raising her timid eyes towards
me,“ you do not believe us or you would not be so eager to
seize my husband.”
“Pardon me," I replied, “I have no right to doubt the truth.
of what you have told me ; but my duty is a plain one, and must
be performed. ”
“Tell me frankly, honestly,” cried the half-frantic woman
with a renewed burst of tears, “if, in your opinion, this evidence
will save my unhappy, deeply-injured husband ? My father, I
fear, deceives me—deceives himself with a vain hope.”
I hesitated to express a very favorable opinion of the effect of
a statement, obnoxious, as a few moments' reflection suggested,
to so much suspicion. The wife quickly interpreted the mean-
ing of my silence, and broke at once into a flood of hysterical
lamentation. It was with the greatest difficulty I kept life in
her by copious showers of water from the decanter that stood on
the table. This endured some time. At last I said abruptly,
for my watch admonished me that full ten minutes had been
passed in this way, that I must summon the waiter and leave
her.
“Go-go,” said she, suddenly rallying, “ since it must be so.
I-I will follow.”


THE PURSUIT.
107
I immediately left the house, hastened to the quay, and, on
arriving there, strained my eyes seaward in search of the ex-
pected ship. A large bark, which very much resembled her,
was, to my dismay, riding at anchor within the breakwater, her
sails furled, and everything made snug for the night. I ran to
the landing-steps, near which two or three sailors were standing.
“What vessel is that ?" I asked, pointing to the one which
had excited my alarm.
“ The Columbia,” replied the man.
“ The Columbia! Why, when did she arrive ?”
“Some time ago. The clock chimed a quarter-past eight as
the captain and a few of the passengers came on shore.”
“A quarter-past eight! Why, it wants nearly half an hour
to that now !"
“Does it though? Before you are ten minutes older you'll
hear the clock strike nine !"
The man's words were followed by a merry mocking laugh
close to my elbow : I turned sharply round, and for the first and
last time in my life felt an almost irresistible temptation to strike
a woman. There stood the meek, dove-eyed, grief-stricken wife
I had parted from but a few minutes before, gazing with brazen
impudence in my face.
"Perhaps, Mr. Waters,” said she with another taunting laugh,
“ perhaps yours is London time; or, which is probably more
likely, watches sometimes sleep for an hour or so as well as their
owners.” She then skipped gaily off.
“ Are you a Mr. Waters ?” said a custom-house official who
was parading the quay.
“Yes—and what then ?"
“ Only that a Mr. Joel Masters desired me to say that he was
very much grieved he could not return to finish the evening with


Part VII.
LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
The respectable agent of a rather eminent French house
arrived one morning in great apparent distress at Scotland
Yard, and informed the superintendent that he had just sus-
tained a great, almost ruinous loss, in notes of the Bank of
England and commercial bills of Exchange, besides a considera-
ble sum in gold. He had, it appeared, been absent in Paris
about ten days, and on his return but a few hours previously,
discovered that his iron chest had been completely rifled during
his absence. False keys must have been used, as the empty
chest was found locked, and no sign of violence could be ob-
served. He handed in full written details of the property car-
ried off, the numbers of the notes, and every other essential
particular. The first step taken was to ascertain if any of the
notes had been tendered at the bank. Not one had been pre-
sented; payment was of course stopped, and advertisements
descriptive of the bills of exchange, as well as of the notes,
were inserted in the evening and following morning papers. A
day or two afterwards, a considerable reward was offered for
such information as might lead to the apprehension of the
offenders. No result followed ; and spite of the active exer-
tions of the officers employed, not the slightest clue could be
obtained to the perpetrators of the robbery. The junior part-
ner in the firm, M. Bellebon, in the meantime arrived in Eng-
land, to assist in the investigation, and was naturally extremely


110
LEGA: METAMORPHOSES.
urgent in his inquiries ; but the mystery which enveloped the
affair remained impenetrable. At last a letter, bearing the St.
Martin le Grand post-mark, was received by the agent, M.
Alexandre le Breton, which contained an offer to surrender the
whole of the plunder, with the exception of the gold, for the
sum of one thousand pounds. The property which had been
abtsracted was more than ten times that sum, and had been
destined by the French house to meet some heavy liabilities
falling due in London very shortly. Le Breton had been or-
dered to pay the whole amount into Hoare's to the account of
the firm, and had indeed been severely blamed for not having
done so as he received the different notes and bills ; and it was
on going to the chest immediately on his return from Paris, for
the purpose of fulfilling the peremptory instructions he had
received, that M. le Breton discovered the robbery.
The letter went on to state that should the offer be acceded
to, a mystically worded advertisement--of which a copy was
enclosed--was to be inserted in the “ Times," and then a mode
would be suggested for safety-in the interest of the thieves of
course--carrying the agreement into effect. M. Bellebon was
half-inclined to close with this proposal, in order to save the
credit of the house, which would be destroyed unless its accept-
ances, now due in about fourteen days, could be met; and with-
out the stolen moneys and bills of exchange, this was, he feared,
impossible. The superintendent, to whom M. Bellebon showed
the letter, would not hear of compliance with such a demand,
and threatened a prosecution for composition of felony if M.
Bellebon persisted in doing so. The advertisement was, how-
ever, inserted, and an immediate reply directed that le Breton,
the agent, should present himself at the old Manor-house,
Green Lanes, Newington, unattended, at four o'clock on the


LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
111
following afternoon, bringing with him of course the stipulated
sum in gold. It was added, that to prevent any possible trea-
son (trahison, the letter was written in French,) Le Breton
would find a note for him at the tavern, informing him of the
spot—a solitary one, and far away from any place where an
ambush could be concealed—where the business would be con-
cluded, and to which he must proceed unaccompanied, and on
foot! This proposal was certainly quite as ingenious as it was
cool, and the chance of outwitting such cunning rascals seemed
exceedingly doubtful. A very tolerable scheme was, however,
hit upon, and M. le Breton proceeded at the appointed hour to
the Old Manor-House. No letter or message had been left for
him, and nobody obnoxious to the slightest suspicion could be
seen near or about the tavern. On the following day another
missive arrived, which stated that the writer was quite aware
of the trick which the police had intended playing him, and he
assured M. Bellebon that such a line of conduct was as unwise
as it would be fruitless, inasmuch as if “ good faith” was not
observed, the securities and notes would be inexorably destroyed
or otherwise disposed of, and the house of Bellebon and Com-
pany be consequently exposed to the shame and ruin of bank-
ruptcy.
Just at this crises of the affair I arrived in town from my
unsuccessful hunt after the fugitives who had slipped through
my fingers at Plymouth. The superintendent laughed heartily,
not so much at the trick by which I had been duped, as at the
angry mortification I did not affect to conceal. He presently
added, “I have been wishing for your return, in order to in-
trust you with a tangled affair, in which success will amply com-
pensate for such a disappointment. You know French too,
which is fortunate ; for the gentleman who has been plundered


112
LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
understands little or no English.” He then related the fore-
going particulars, with other apparently slight circumstances ;
and after a long conversation with him, I retired to think the
matter over, and decide upon the likeliest mode of action.
After much cogitation, I determined to see M. Bellebon alone ;
and for this purpose I despatched the waiter of a tavern adja-
cent to his lodgings, with a note expressive of my wish to see
him instantly on pressing business. He was at home, and im-
mediately acceded to my request. I easily introduced myself ;
and after about a quarter of an hour's conference, said care-
lessly - for I saw he was too heedless of speech, too quick and
frank, to be intrusted with the dim suspicions which certain
trifling indices had suggested to me—“ Is Monsieur le Breton
at the office where the robbery was committed ?"
“No: he is gone to Greenwich on business, and will not re-
turn till late in the evening. But if you wish to re-examine
the place, I can of course enable you to do so.”
“ It will, I think, be advisable ; and you will, if you please,”
I added, as we emerged into the street, “permit me to take
you by the arm, in order that the official character of my visit
may not be suspected by any one there."
He laughingly complied, and we arrived at the house arm in
arm. We were admitted by an elderly woman; and there was
a young man--a moustached clerk-seated at a desk in an
inner room writing. He eyed me for a moment, somewhat
askance I thought, but I gave him no opportunity for a distinct
view of my features ; and I presently handed M. Bellebon a
card, on which I had contrived to write, unobserved, “send
away the clerk.” This was more naturally done than I antici-
pated ; and in answer to M. Bellebon's glance of inquiry, I
merely said, “that as I did not wish to be known there as a


LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
113
police-officer, it was essential that the minute search I was about
to make should be without witnesses.” He agreed; and the
woman was also sent away upon a distant errand. Every con-
ceivable place did I ransack; every scrap of paper that had
writing on it I eagerly perused. At length the search was
over, apparently without result.
“You are quite sure, Monsieur Bellebon, as you informed
the superintendent, that Monsieur le Breton has no female re-
lations or acquaintances in this country ?”
“Positive,” he replied. “I have made the most explicit
inquiries on the subject both of the clerk Dubarie and of the
woman-servant.”
Just then the clerk returned, out of breath with haste I
noticed, and I took my leave without even now affording the
young gentleman so clear a view of my face as he was evi-
dently anxious to obtain.
“No female acquaintance !” thought I, as I re-entered the
private room of the tavern I had left an hour before. “From
whom came, then, these scraps of perfumed note-paper I have
found in his desk I wonder ?” I sat down and endeavored to
piece them out, but after considerable trouble, satisfied myself
that they were parts of different notes, and so small, unfortu-
nately, as to contain nothing which separately afforded any in-
formation except that they were all written by one hand, and
that a female one.
About two hours after this I was sauntering along in the di-
rection of Stoke-Newington, where I was desirous of making
some inquiries as to another matter, and had passed the Kings-
law Gate a few hundred yards, when a small discolored printed
handbill, lying in a haberdasher's shop window, arrested my at-
tention. It ran thus :—“ Two guineas reward. — Lost, an Italian


114
LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
greyhound. The tip of its tail has been chopped off, and it
answers to the name of Fidèle.” Underneath, the reader was
told in writing to “inquire within.”
“ Fidèle !" I mentally exclaimed. “Any relation to M. le
Breton's fair correspondent's Fidèle, I wonder ?” In a twink-
ling my pocket-book was out, and I reperused by the gas-light
on one of the perfumed scraps of paper the following portion
of a sentence, “ ma pauvre Fidèle est per” . The bill, I
observed, was dated nearly three weeks previously. I forth-
with entered the shop, and pointing to the bill, said I knew a
person who had found such a dog as was there advertised for.
The woman at the counter said she was glad to hear it, as the
lady, formerly a customer of theirs, was much grieved at the
animal's loss.
What is the lady's name ?" I asked.
“I can't rightly pronounce the name,” was the reply. “It
is French, I believe; but here it is, with the address, in the
day-book, written by herself.”
I eagerly read—“Madame Levasseur, Oak Cottage ; about
one mile on the road from Edmonton to Southgate.” The
hand-writing greatly resembled that on the scraps I had taken
from M. le Breton's desk; and the writer was French too !
Here were indications of a trail which might lead to unhoped-
for success, and I determined to follow it up vigorously. After
one or two other questions, I left the shop, promising to send
the dog to the lady the next day. My business at Stoke-Newing-
ton was soon accomplished. I then hastened westward to the
establishment of a well-known dog-fancier, and procured the
loan, at a reasonable price, of an ugly Italian hound: the re-
quisite loss of the tip of its tail was very, speedily accomplished,
apl so quickly healed, that the newness of the excision could


116
LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
“ Vy, ere is her wery tail ;” and I held up the mutilated ex-
tremity for her closer inspection. The lady was not, however,
to be convinced even by that evidence; and as the gentleman
soon became impatient of my persistence, and hinted very intel-
ligibly that he had a mind to hasten my passage down stairs
with the toe of his boot, I, having made the best possible use
of my eyes during the short interview, scrambled up the dog
and basket, and departed.
“No female relativo or acquaintance hasn't he?" was my
exulting thought as I gained the road. “And yet if that is not
M. le Breton's picture between those of the husband and wife,
I am a booby, and a blind one." I no longer in the least
doubted that I had struck a brilliant trail; and I could have
shouted with exultation, so eager was I not only to retrieve my,
as I fancied, somewhat tarnished reputation for activity and
skill, but to extricate the plundered firm from their terrible
difficulties; the more especially as young M. Bellebon, with the
frankness of his age and nation, had hinted to me—and the
suddenly tremulous light of his fine expressive eyes testified to
the acuteness of his apprehensions—that his marriage with a
long-loved and amiable girl depended upon his success in saving
the credit of his house.
That same evening, about nine o'clock, M. Levasseur, ex-
pensively, but withal snobbishly attired, left Oak Cottage, walk-
ed to Edmonton, hailed a cab, and drove off rapidly towards
town, followed by an English swell as stylishly and snobbishly
dressed, wigged, whiskered, and moustached as himself: this
English swell being no other than myself, as prettily metamor-
phosed and made up for the part I intended playing as heart
could wish.
M. Levasseur descended at the end of the Quadrant, Regent


LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
117
Street, and took his way to Vine Street, leading out of that
celebrated thoroughfare. I followed; and observing him enter
a public house, unhesitatingly did the same. It was a house of
call and general rendezvous for foreign servants out of place.
Valets, couriers, cooks, of many varieties of shade, nation, and
respectability, were assembled there, smoking, drinking, and
playing at an insufferably noisy game, unknown, I believe, to
Englishmen, and which must, I think, have been invented in
sheer despair of cards, dice, or other implements of gambling.
The sole instruments of play were the gamester's fingers, of
which the two persons playing suddenly and simultaneously up-
lifted as many, or as few, as they pleased, each player alter-
nately calling a number; and if he named precisely how many
fingers were held up by himself and opponent, he marked a
point. The hubbub of cries—“cinq,” “neuf,” “dix,” &c.—
was deafening. The players—almost every body in the large
room-were too much occupied to notice our entrance ; and M.
Levasseur and myself seated ourselves, and called for something
to drink, without, I was glad to see, exciting the slightest obser-
vation. M. Levasseur, I soon perceived, was an intimate ac-
quaintance of many there ; and somewhat to my surprise, for he
spoke French very well, I found that he was a Swiss. His name
was, I therefore concluded, assumed. Nothing positive reward-
ed my watchfulness that evening ; but I felt quite sure Levas-
seur had come there with the expectation of meeting some one,
as he did not play, and went away about half past eleven o'clock
with an obviously discontented air. The following night it was
the same; but the next, who should peer into the room about
half past ten, and look cautiously round, but M. Alexandre le
Breton! The instant the eyes of the friends met, Levasseur
rose and went out. I hesitated to follow, lest such a movement


118
LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
"might excite suspicion ; and it was well I did not, as they both
presently returned, and seated themselves close by my side.
The anxious, haggard countenance of Le Breton—who had, I
should have before stated, been privately pointed out to me by
one of the force early on the morning I visited Oak Cottage-
struck me forcibly, especially in contrast with that of Levas-
seur, which were only an expression of malignant and ferocious
triumph, slightly dashed by temporary disappointment. Le
Breton stayed but a short time; and the only whispered words
I caught were—“He has, I fear, some suspicion.”
The anxiety and impatience of M. Bellebon whilst this was
going on became extreme, and he sent me note after note-the
only mode of communication I would permitexpressive of his
consternation at the near approach of the time when the en-
gagements of his house would arrive at maturity, without any-
thing having in the meantime been accomplished. I pitied him
greatly, and after some thought and hesitation, resolved upon a.
new and bolder game. By affecting to drink a great deal, occa-
sionally playing, and in other ways exhibiting a reckless, devil-
may-care demeanor, I had striven to insinuate myself into the
confidence and companionship of Levasseur, but hitherto with-
out much effect; and although once I could see, startled by a
casual hint I dropped to another person-one of ours—just
sufficiently loud for him to hear—that I knew a sure and safe
market for stopped Bank of England notes, the cautious scoun-
drel quickly subsided into his usual guarded reserve. He evi-
dently doubted me, and it was imperatively necessary to re-
move those doubts. This was at last effectually, and, I am vain
enough to think, cleverly done. One evening a rakish looking
man, who ostentatiously and repeatedly declared himself to be
Mr. Trelawney of Conduit Street, and who was evidently three


LEGAL MET A MORPHOSES.
119
parts intoxicated, seated himself directly in front of us, and
with much braggart impudence boasted of his money, at the
same time displaying a pocket-book, which seemed pretty full
of Bank of England notes. There were only a few persons
of the room. Levasseur, I saw, noticed with considerable in-
terest the look of greed and covetousness which I fixed on that
same pocket-book. At length the stranger rose to depart. I
also hurried up and slipped after him, and was quietly and slyly
followed by Levasseur. After proceeding about a dozen paces
I looked furtively about, but not behind; robbed Mr. Trelaw-
ney of his pocket-book, which he had placed in one of the tails
of his coat; crossed over the street, and walked hurriedly away,
still, I could hear, followed by Levasseur. I entered another
public-house, strode into an empty back-room, and was just in
the act of examining my prize, when in stepped Levasseur. He
looked triumphant as Lucifer, as he clapped me on the shoul-
der, and said in a low exulting voice, “I saw that pretty trick,
Williams, and can, if I like, transport you !"
My consternation was naturally extreme, and Levasseur
laughed immensely at the terror he excited. “Soyez tran-
quille," he said at last, at the same time ringing the bell : “I
shall not hurt you.” He ordered some wine, and after the
waiter had fulfilled the order and left the room, said, “ Those
notes of Mr. Trelawney's will of course be stopped in the morn-
ing, but I think I once heard you say you knew of a market
for such articles ?"
I hesitated, coyly unwilling to further commit myself. “Come,
come,” resumed Levasseur in a still low but menacing tone,
“no nonsense. I have you now; you are, in fact, entirely in my
power; but be candid, and you are safe. Who is your friend ?”


120
LEGAL METAMORPH (SES.
“He is not in town now,” I stammered.
“Stuff–humbug! I have myself some notes to change.
There, now we understand each other. What does he give,
and how does he dispose of them ?”
“He gives about a third generally, and gets rid of them
abroad. They reach the Bank through bona fide and innocent
holders, and in that case the Bank is of course bound to pay.”
“ Is that the law also with respect to bills of exchange ?"
“ Yes, to be sure it is.”
“ And is amount of any consequence to your friend ?"
“None, I believe, whatever."
“Well, then, you must introduce me to him.”
“No, that I can't,” I hurriedly answered. “He wont deal
with strangers.”
“ You must, I tell you, or I will call an officer.” Terrified
by this threat, I muttered that his name was Levi Samuel.
“And where does Levi Samuel live ?"
“That," I replied, “I cannot tell; but I know how to com-
municate with him.”
Finally, it was settled by Levasseur that I should dine at
Oak Cottage the next day but one, and that I should arrange
with Samuel to meet us there immediately afterwards. The
notes and bills he had to dispose of, I was to inform Samuel,
amounted to nearly twelve thousand pounds, and I was prom-
ised £500 for effecting the bargain.
“Five hundred pounds, remember, Williams,” said Levas-
seur as we parted; “or, if you deceive me, transportation !
You can prove nothing regarding me, whereas, I could settle
you off hand.”
The superintendent and I had a long and rather anxious con-
ference the next day. We agreed that, situate as Oak Cottage
__
_
_
__


124
LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
outer door announced Jackson-Levi Samuel, I mean. We all
jumped up, and ran to the window. It was the Jew sure
enough, and admirably he had dressed and now looked the part.
Levasseur went out, and in a minute or two returned intro-
ducing him. Jackson could not suppress a start as he caught
sight of the tall, moustached addition to the expected company;"
and although he turned it off very well, it drove the Jewish dia-
lect in which he had been practising completely out of his
thoughts and speech, as he said, “You have more company
than my friend Williams led me to expect ?"
“A friend—one friend extra, Mr. Samuel,” said Levasseur ;
" that is all. Come, sit down, and let me help you to a glass
of wine. You are an English Jew I perceive ?”
“ Yes."
A silence of a minute or two succeeded, and then Levasseur
said, “You are of course prepared for business ?”
“Yes—that is, if you are reasonable.”
“Reasonable! the most reasonable men in the world,” re-
joined Levasseur with a loud laugh. “But pray where is the
gold you mean to pay us with ?”
“If we agree, I will fetch it in half an hour. I do not carry
bags of sovereigns about with me into all companies,” replied
Jackson with much readiness.
“Well, that's right enough : and now how much discount do
you charge ?"
“ I will tell you when I see the securities.”
Levasseur rose without another word, and left the apartment.
He was gone about ten minutes, and on his return, deliberately
counted out the stolen Bank of England notes and bills of Ex-
change. Jackson got up from his chair, peered close to them,
and began noting down the amounts in his pocket-book. I also


LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
125
rose, and pretended to be looking at a picture by the fire-place.
The moment was a nervous one, as the signal had been agreed
upon, and could not now be changed or deferred. The clerk
Dubarle also hastily rose, and eyed Jackson with flaming but
indecisive looks. The examination of the securities was at
length terminated, and Jackson began counting the Bank of
England notes aloud--“ One-two-three-four- FIVE!” As
the signal word passed his lips, he threw himself upon Le Bre-
ton, who sat next to him; and at the same moment I passed
one of my feet between Dubarle’s, and with a dexterous twist
hurled him violently on the floor ; another instant and my grasp
was on the throat of Levasseur, and my pistol at his ear. “Hur-
rah !” we both shouted with eager excitement; and before
either of the villains could recover from his surprise, or indeed
perfectly comprehend what had happened, Levasseur and Le
Breton were hand-cuffed, and resistance was out of the ques-
tion. Young Dubarle was next easily secured.
Levasseur, the instant he recovered the use of his faculties,
which the completeness and suddenness of the surprise and
attack had paralysed, yelled like a madman with rage and an-
ger, and but for us, would, I verily believe, have dashed his
brains out against the walls of the room. The other two were
calmer, and having at last thoroughly pinioned and secured
them, and carefully gathered up the recovered plunder, we left
Oak Cottage in triumph, letting ourselves out, for the woman-
servant had gone off, doubtless to acquaint her mistress with the
disastrous turn affairs had taken. No inquiry was made after
either of them.
An hour afterwards the prisoners were securely locked up,
and I hurried to acquaint M. Bellebon with the fortunate issue
of our enterprise. His exultation, it will be readily believed,


126
LEGAL METAMORPHOSES.
was unbounded ; and I left him busy with letters to the firm,
and doubtless one to “ cette chère et aimable Louise,” an-
nouncing the joyful news.
The prisoners, after a brief trial, which many readers of this
narrative may perhaps remember, were convicted of felonious
conspiracy, and were all sentenced to ten years' transportation.
Le Breton's sentence, the judge told him, would have been for
life, but for the contrition he had exhibited shortly before his
apprehension.
As Levasseur passed me on leaving the dock, he exclaimed
in French, and in a desperately savage tone, “ I will repay you
for this when I return, and that infernal Trelawney too.” I
am too much accustomed to threats of this kind to be in any
way moved by them, and I therefore contented myself by
smiling, and a civil “ Au revoir-allons !"
Fusion,


Part VIII.
THE REVENGE.
LEVASSEUR and his confederates sailed for the penal settlements
in the ill-fated convict-ship, the Amphytrion, the total wreck of
which on the coast of France, and consequent drowning of the
crew and prisoners, excited so painful a sensation in England.
A feeling of regret for the untimely fate of Le Breton, whom I
regarded rather as a weak dupe than a purposed rascal, passed
over my mind as I read the announcement in the newspapers ;
but newer events had almost jostled the incidents connected with
his name from my remembrance, when a terrible adventure
vividly recalled them, and taught me how fierce and untame-
able are the instincts of hate and revenge in a certain class of
minds.
A robbery of plate had been committed in Portman Square
with an ingenuity and boldness which left no doubt that it had
been effected by clever and practised hands. The detective
officers first employed having failed to discover the offenders,
the threads of the imperfect and broken clue were placed in my
hands, to see if my somewhat renowned dexterity, or luck, as
many of my brother officers preferred calling it, would enable
me to piece them out to a satisfactory conclusion. By the de-
scription obtained of a man who had been seen lurking about
the house a few days previous to the burglary, it had been con-
cluded by my predecessors in the investigation that one Martin,
a fellow with half a dozen aliases, and a well-known traveler on


THE REVENGE.
129
and as proclaiming the attack would do nothing towards detecting
the perpetrator of it, I said little about it to any one, and man-
aged to conceal it entirely from my wife, to whom it would have
suggested a thousand painful apprehensions whenever I happened
to be unexpectedly detained from home. The brief glimpse I
had of the balked assassin afforded no reasonable indication of
his identity. To be sure he ran at an amazing and unusual
pace, but this was a qualification possessed by so many of the
light-legged as well as light-fingered gentry of my professional
acquaintance, that it could not justify even a random suspicion ;
and I determined to forget the unpleasant incident as soon as
possible.
The third evening after this occurrence l was again passing
along Leicester Square at a somewhat late hour, but this time
with all my eyes about me. Snow, which the wind blew sharply
in one's face, was falling fast, and the cold was intense. Except
myself, and a tallish snow-wreathed figure—a woman apparently
-not a living being was to be seen. This figure, which was
standing still at the further side of the square, appeared to be
awaiting me, and as I drew near it, threw back the hood of a
cloak, and to my great surprise disclosed the features of a
Madame Jaubert. This lady, some years before, had carried
on, not very far from the spot where she now stood, a respect-
able millinery business. She was a widow with one child, a
daughter of about seven years of age. Marie-Louise, as she
was named, was one unfortunate day sent to Coventry Street
on an errand with some money in her hand, and never returned.
The inquiries set on foot proved utterly without effect: not the
slightest intelligence of the fate of the child was obtained—and
the grief and distraction of the bereaved mother resulted in
temporary insanity. She was confined in a lunatic asylum for


130
THE REVENGE.
seven or eight months, and when pronounced convalescent, found
herself homeless, and almost penniless, in the world. This sad
story I had heard from one of the keepers of the asylum during
her sojourn there. It was a subject she herself never, I was"
aware, touched upon ; and she had no reason to suspect that I
was in the slightest degree informed of this melancholy passage
in her iife. She, why, I know not, changed her name from that
of Duquesne to the one she now bore-Jaubert; and for the
last two or three years had supported a precarious existence by
plausible begging-letters addressed to persons of credulous be-
nevolence ; for which offence she had frequently visited the
police-courts at the instance of the secretary of the Mendicity
Society, and it was there I had consequently made her ac-
quaintance.
“Madame Jaubert !" I exclaimed with unfeigned surprise,
“why, what on earth can you be waiting here for on such a
night as this ?”
“To see you !" was her curt reply.
“To see me! Depend upon it, then, you are knocking at
the wrong door for not the first time in your life. The very
little faith I ever had in professional widows, with twelve small
children, all down in the measles, has long since vanished,
and” —
“Nay,” she interrupted—she spoke English, by the way, like
a native—“I'm not such a fool as to be trying the whimpering
dodge upon you. It is a matter of business. You want to find
Jem Martin ?"
“Ay, truly; but what can you know of him ? Surely you
are not yet fallen so low as to be the associate or accomplice of
burglars ?”
“ Neither yet, nor likely to be so," replied the woman ; “still


THE REVENGE.
· 131
I could tell you where to place your hand on James Martin, if
I were but sure of the reward.”
“There can be no doubt about that,” I answered.
“ Then follow me, and before ten minutes are past you will
have secured your man.”
I did so-cautiously, suspiciously; for my adventure three
evenings before had rendered me unusually circumspect and
watchful. She led the way to the most crowded quarter of St.
Giles's, and when she had reached the entrance of a dark blind
alley, called Hine's Court, turned into it, and beckoned me to
follow.
“Nay, nay, Madame Jaubert,” I exclaimed, “ that wont do.
You mean fairly, I dare say; but I don't enter that respectable
alley alone at this time of night.”
She stopped, silent and embarrassed. Presently she said with
a sneer, “ You are afraid, I suppose ?”
“ Yes I am.”
“What is to be done then ?” she added after a few moments’
consideration. “ He is alone, I assure you.”
“ That is possible ; still I do not enter that cul-de-sac to-night
unaccompanied save by you.”
“You suspect me of some evil design, Mr. Waters ?" said the
woman with an accent of reproach. “I thought you might, and
yet nothing can be further from the truth. My sole object is to
obtain the reward, and escape from this life of misery and deg-
radation to my own country, and if possible begin the world re-
spectably again. Why should you doubt me ?”
“ How came you acquainted with this robber's haunts ?”
“ The explanation is easy, but this is not the time for it.
Stay ; can't you get assistance ?”
“Easily—in less than ten minutes ; and if you are here when


132,
THE REVENGE.
I return, and your information proves correct, I will ask pardon
for my suspicions."
“Be it so,” she said joyfully; "and be quick, for this weather
is terrible.”
Ten minutes had not passed when I returned with half-a-dozen
officers, and found Madame Jaubert still at her post. We fol-
lowed her up the court, caught Martin sure enough asleep upon
a wretched pallet of straw in one of the alley hovels, and walked
him off, terribly scared and surprised, to the nearest station-house,
where he passed the remainder of the night.
The next day Martin proved an alibi of the distinctest, most
undeniable kind. He had been an inmate of Clerkenwell prison
for the last three months, with the exception of just six days
previous to our capture of him ; and he was of course at once
discharged. The reward was payable only upon conviction of
the offender, and the disappointment of poor Madame Jaubert
was extreme. She wept bitterly at the thought of being com-
pelled to continue her present disreputable mode of life, when a
thousand francs—a sum she believed Martin's capture would
have assured her—besides sufficient for her traveling expenses
and decent outfit, would, she said, purchase a partnership in a
small but respectable millinery shop in Paris. “Well,” I re-
marked to her, " there is no reason for despair. You have not
only proved your sincerity and good faith, but that you possess a
knowledge—how acquired you best know—-of the haunts and
hiding-places of burglars. The reward, as you may have seen
by the new placards, has been doubled ; and I have a strong
opinion, from something that has reached me this morning, that
if you could light upon one Armstrong, alias Rowden, it would
be as certainly yours as if already in your pocket.”
“ Armstrong-Rowden !" repeated the woman with anxious


THE REVENGE.
133
simplicity; “I never heard either of these names. What sort
of a person is he ?”
I described him minutely; but Madame Jaubert appeared to
entertain little or no hope of discovering his whereabout; and
ultimately went away in a very disconsolate mood, after, how-
ever, arranging to meet me the next evening.
I met her as agreed. She could obtain, she said, no intelli-
gence of any reliable worth ; and she pressed me for further
particulars. Was Armstrong a drinking, a gaming, or a play-
going man ? I told her all I knew of his habits, and a gleam of
hope glanced across her face as one or two indications were men-
tioned. I was to see her again on the morrow. It came ; she
was as far off as ever; and I advised her to waste no further
time in the pursuit, but to at once endeavor to regain a position
of respectability by the exercise of industry in the trade or busi-
ness in which she was reputedly well-skilled. Madame Jaubert
laughed scornfully ; and a gleam, it seemed to me, of her never
entirely subdued insanity shot out from her deep-set, flashing
eyes. It was finally settled that I should meet her once more
at the same place at about eight o'clock the next evening.
I arrived somewhat late at the appointed rendezvous, and
found Madame Jaubert in a state of manifest excitement and
impatience. She had, she was pretty sure, discovered Arm-
strong, and knew that he was at that moment in a house in
Greek Street, Soho.
“Greek Street, Soho! Is he alone ?"
“ Yes; with the exception of a woman who is minding the
premises, and of whom he is an acquaintance under another
name. You will be able to secure him without the least risk
or difficulty, but not an instant must be lost.”
Madame Jaubert perceived my half-hesitation. “Surely,"


136
THE REVENGE.
to my feet, placed upright against a wooden partition, and staples
having been driven into the paneling, securely fastened in that
position, with cords passed through them, and round my arm-
pits. This effected, an authoritative voice—the now distinct
recognition of which thrilled me with dismay—ordered that I
should be unblinded. It was done ; and when my eyes became
somewhat accustomed to the suddenly-dazzling light and glare, I
saw Levasseur and the clerk Dubarle standing directly in front
of me, their faces kindled into flame by fiendish triumph and
delight. The report that they had been drowned was then a
mistake, and they had incurred the peril of returning to this
country for the purpose of avenging themselves upon me; and
how could it be doubted that an opportunity, achieved at such
fearful risk, would be effectually, remorselessly used ? A pang
of mortal terror shot through me, and then I strove to awaken
in my heart a stern endurance, and resolute contempt of death,
with, I may now confess, very indifferent success. The woman
Jaubert was, I also saw, present; and a man, whom I after-
wards ascertained to be Martin, was standing near the doorway,
with his back towards me. These two, at a brief intimation from
Lavasseur, went down stairs ; and then the fierce exultation of
the two escaped convicts—of Levasseur especially—broke forth
with wolfish rage and ferocity. “Ha-ha-ha!” shouted the
Swiss, at the same time striking me over the face with his open
hand,“ you find, then, that others can plot as well as you can-
dog, traitor, scoundrel that you are ! Au revoir—alors !' was
it, eh? Well, here we are, and I wish you joy of the meeting.
Ha-ha! How dismal the rascal looks, Dubarle !"—(Again the
coward struck me)—“He is hardly grateful to me, it seems, for
having kept my word. I always do, my fine fellow,” he added
with a savage chuckle ; " and never neglect to pay my debts of


THE REVENGE.
137
honor. Yours especially,” he continued, drawing a pistol from
his pocket, “ shall be prompt payment, and with interest too,
scélérat!" He held the muzzle of the pistol to within a yard
of my forehead, and placed his finger on the trigger. I instinc-
tively closed my eyes, and tasted in that fearful moment the full
bitterness of death ; but my hour was not yet come. Instead
of the flash and report which I expected would herald me into
eternity, a taunting laugh from Levasseur at the terror he ex-
cited rang through the room.
“Come—come,” said Dubarle, over whose face a gleam of
commiseration, almost of repentance, had once or twice passed ;
“ you will alarm that fellow down stairs with your noise. We
must, you know, wait till he is gone, and he appears to be in no
hurry. In the meantime let us have a game of piquet for the
first shot at the traitor's carcase.”
“Excellent-capital !" shouted Levasseur with savage glee.
“A game of piquet; the stake your life, Waters ! A glorious
game! and mind you see fair-play. In the meantime here's your
health, and better luck next time if you should chance to live to
see it.” He swallowed a draught of wine which Dubarle, after
helping himself, had poured out for him ; and then approaching
me, with the silver cup he had drained in his hand, said, “ Look
at the crest! Do you recognize it—fool, idiot that you are ?"
I did so readily enough : it was a portion of the plunder car-
ried off from Portman Square.
“Come," again interposed Dubarle, “let us have our game.”
The play began, and— But I will dwell no longer upon
this terrible passage in my police experience. Frequently even
now the incidents of that night revisit me in dreams, and I awake
with a start and cry of terror. In addition to the mental torture
I endured, I was suffering under an agonizing thirst, caused by


THE REVENGE.
139
standing. She understood me. “If,” said she, “you will
promise not to call out, I will relieve you of the gag.”
I eagerly nodded compliance. The gag was removed, and
she held a cup of wine to my fevered lips. It was a draught
from the waters of paradise, and hope, energy, life, were re-
newed within me as I drank.
“ You are deceived,” I said in a guarded voice, the instant
my burning thirst was satisfied. “They intend to murder me,
and you will be involved as an accomplice.”
“Nonsense,” she replied. “They have been frightening you,
that's all.”
“I again repeat you are deceived. Release me from these
fetters and cords, give me but a chance of at least selling my
life as dearly as I can, and the money you told me you stood in
need of shall be yours.”
“Hark !” she exclaimed. “They are coming !"
“ Bring down a couple of bottles of wine,” said Levassuer
from the bottom of the stairs. Madame Jaubert obeyed the
order, and in a few minutes returned.
I renewed my supplications to be released, and was of course
extremely liberal of promises.
“It is vain talking,” said the woman. “I do not believe
they will harm you ; but even if it were as you say, it is too
late now to retrace my steps. You cannot escape. That fool
below is already three-parts intoxicated : they are both armed,
and would hesitate at nothing if they but suspected treachery.”
It was vain to urge her. She grew sullen and menacing ;
and was insisting that the gag should be replaced in my mouth,
when a thought struck me.
“ Levassuer called you Marie Duquesne just now; but surely
your name is Jaubert—is it not ?”


140
THE REVENGE.
“ Do not trouble yourself about my name," she replied :
“ that is my affair, not yours.”
“Because if you are the Marie Duquesne who once kept a
shop in Cranbourne Alley, and lost a child called Marie-Louise,
I could tell you something.”
A wild light broke from her dark eyes, and a suppressed scream
from her lips. “I am that Marie Duquesne !” she said in a
voice tremulous with emotion.
“Then I have to inform you that the child so long supposed
to be lost I discovered nearly three weeks ago.”
The woman fairly leapt towards me, clasped me fiercely
by the arms, and peering in my face with eyes on fire with
insane excitement, hissed out, “ You lie—you lie, you dog!
You are striving to deceive me! She is in heaven : the angels
told me so long since.”
I do not know, by the way, whether the falsehood I was en-
deavoring to palm off upon the woman was strictly justifiable or
not; but I am fain to believe that there are few moralists that
would not, under the circumstances, have acted pretty much as
I did.
“ If your child was lost when going on an errand to Coventry
Street, and her name is Marie-Louise Duquesne, I tell you she
is found. How should I otherwise have become acquainted with
these particulars ?"
" True—true," she muttered : “how else should he know?
Where is she ?” added the woman in tones of agonized entreaty,
as she sank down and clasped my knees. “Tell me—tell me,
as you hope for life or mercy, where I may find my child ?”
“Release me, give me a chance of escape, and to-morrow
your child shall be in your arms. Refuse, and the secret dies
with me.”


THE REVENGE.
141
She sprang quickly to her feet, unclasped the handcuffs,
snatched a knife from the table, and cut the cords which bound
me with eager haste. “ Another draught of wine,” she said
still in the same hurried, almost insane manner. “You have
work to do! Now, whilst I secure the door, do you rub and
chafe your stiffened joints.” The door was soon fastened, and
then she assisted in restoring the circulation to my partially-
benumbed limbs. This was at last accomplished, and Marie
Duquesne drew me towards a window, which she softly opened.
“ It is useless,” she whispered, “ to attempt a struggle with the
men below. You must descend by this,” and she placed her
hand upon a lead water-pipe, which reached from the roof to
within a few feet of the ground.
“ And you,” I said ; “how are you to escape ?"
“I will tell you. Do you hasten on towards Hampstead,
from which we are distant in a northerly direction about a mile.
There is a house at about half the distance. Procure help, and
return as quickly as possible. The door-fastenings will resist
some time, even should your flight be discovered. You will
not fail me ?"
“Be assured I will not.” The descent was a difficult and
somewhat perilous one, but it was safely accomplished, and I set
off at the top of my speed towards Hampstead.
I had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, when the distant
sound of a horse's feet, coming at a slow trot towards me,
caught my ear. I paused, to make sure I was not deceived,
and as I did so, a wild scream from the direction I had left,
followed by another and another, broke upon the stillness of the
night., The scoundrels had no doubt discovered my escape, and
were about to wreak their vengeance upon the unfortunate crea-
ture in their power. The trot of the horse which I had heard


THE SEVENGE.
143
reaction and disappointment proved too much for her wavering
intellect. She relapsed into positive insanity, and was placed in
Bedlam, where she remained two years. At the end of that
period she was pronounced convalescent. A sufficient sum of
money was raised by myself and others, not only to send her to
Paris, but to enable her to set up as a milliner in a small but
respectable way. As lately as last May, when I saw her there,
she was in health both of mind and body, and doing comfortably.
With the concurrence of the police authorities, very little was
said publicly respecting my entrapment. It might perhaps have
excited a monomania amongst liberated convicts - colored and
exaggerated as every incident would have been for the amuse-
ment of the public—to attempt similar exploits. I was also
anxious to conceal the peril I had encountered from my wife ;
and it was not till I had left the police force that she was in-
formed of it. Levasseur and Dubarle were convicted of return-
ing from transportation before the term for which they had been
sentenced had expired, and were this time sent across the seas
for life. The reporters of the morning papers, or rather the
reporter for the “ Times,” “Herald,” “ Chronicle,” “Post,"
and “ Advertiser,” gave precisely the same account, even to the
misspelling of Levasseur's name, dismissing the brief trial in the
following paragraph, under the head of “ Old Bailey Sessions :"
_“ Alphonse Dubarle (24), and Sebastian Levasson (49), were
identified as unlawfully-returned convicts, and sentenced to trans-
portation for life. The prisoners, it was understood, were con-
nected with the late plate-robbery in Portman Square ; but as a
conviction could not have increased their punishment, the in-
dictment was not pressed.”
Levasseur, I had almost forgotten to state, admitted that it
was he who wounded me in Ryder's Court, Leicester Square.


MARY KINGSFORD.
145
were to remain, the guard told us, till a fast down-train had
passed. All of us hurried as quickly as we could to the large
room at this station, where blazing fires and other appliances
soon thawed the half-frozen bodies, and loosened the tongues of
the numerous and motley passengers. After recovering the use
of my benumbed limbs and faculties, I had leisure to look
around and survey the miscellaneous assemblage about me.
Two persons had traveled in the same compartment with me
from Birmingham, whose exterior, as disclosed by the dim light
of the railway carriage, created some surprise that such a finely-
attired, fashionable gentleman should stoop to journey by the
plebeian penny-a-mile train. I could now observe them in a
clearer light, and surprise at their apparent condescension van-
ished at once. To an eye less experienced than mine in the
artifices and expedients familiar to a certain class of 'swells,'
they might perhaps have passed muster for what they assumed
to be, especially amidst the varied crowd of a “parliamentary;'
but their copper finery could not for a moment impose upon me.
The watch-chains, were, I saw, mosaic; the watches, so fre-
quently displayed, gilt; eye-glasses the same; the coats, fur-
collared and cuffed, were ill-fitting and second-hand; ditto of
the varnished boots and renovated velvet waistcoats; while the
luxuriant moustaches and whiskers, and flowing wigs, were un-
mistakably mere pièces d'occasion - assumed and diversified at
pleasure. They were both apparantly about fifty years of age ;
one of them perhaps one or two years less than that. I watched
them narrowly, the more so from their making themselves osten-
tatiously attentive to a young woman-girl rather she seemed
-of a remarkably graceful figure, but whose face I had not
yet obtained a glimpse of. They made boisterous way for her
to the fire, and were profuse and noisy in their offers of refresh-


MARY KINGSFORD.
147
what at a loss how to proceed, when the bell announcing the
instant departure of the train rang out, my furious antagonist
gathered up and adjusted his wig, and we all sallied forth to
take our places—the young woman holding fast by my arm, and
in a low, nervous voice, begging me not to leave her. I watched
the two fellows take their seats, and then led her to the hind-
most carriage, which we had to ourselves as far as the next
station.
“Are Mrs. Waters and Emily quite well :” said the young
woman coloring, and lowering her eyes beneath my earnest
gaze, which she seemed for a moment to misinterpret.
“Quite, entirely so," I almost stammered. “You know us
then ?"
“Surely I do,” she replied, reassured by my manner. “But
you, it seems,” she presently added with a winning smile, “have
quite forgotten little Mary Kingsford.”
“Mary Kingsford !" I exclaimed almost with a shout. “Why,
so it is ! But what a transformation a few years have effected!”
“ Do you think so ? Not pretty Mary Kingsford now then, I
suppose ?” she added with a light, pleasant laugh.
“You know what I mean, you vain puss you!" I rejoined
quite gleefully; for I was overjoyed at meeting with the gentle,
well-remembered playmate of my own eldest girl. We were
old familiar friends - almost father and daughter-in an instant.
Little Mary Kingsford, I should state, was, when I left York-
shire, one of the prettiest, most engaging children I had ever
seen; and a petted favorite not only with us, but of every other
family in the neighborhood. She was the only child of Philip
and Mary Kingsford--a humble, worthy, and much-respected
couple. The father was gardener to Sir Pyott Dalzell, and her
mother eked out his wages to a respectable maintenance by


148
MARY KINGSFORD.
keeping a cheap children's school. The change which a few
years had wrought in the beautiful child was quite sufficient to
account for my imperfect recognition of her; but the instant her
name was mentioned, I at once recognised the rare comeliness
which had charmed us all in her childhood. The soft brown
eyes were the same, though now revealing profounder depths, and
emitting a more pensive expression; the hair, though deepened
in color, was still golden ; her complexion, lit up as it now was
by a sweet blush, was brilliant as ever ; whilst her child-person
had become matured and developed into womanly symmetry and
grace. The brilliancy of color vanished from her cheek as I
glanced meaningly at her mourning dress.
“Yes,” she murmured in a sad quivering voice—“yes, father
is gone! It will be six months come next Thursday that he
died! Mother is well,” she continued more cheerfully after
a pause, “ in health, but poorly off; and I—and I,” she added
with a faint effort at a smile,“ am going to London to seek my
fortune !"
“ To seek your fortune !!!
“ Yes: you know my cousin, Sophy Clarke ? In one of her
letters, she said she often saw you."
I nodded without speaking. I knew little of Sophia Clarke,
except that she was the somewhat gay, coquettish shopwoman
of a highly respectable confectioner in the Strand, whom I shall
call by the name of Morris.
“I am to be Sophy's fellow shop-assistant,” continued Mary
Kingsford; “ not of course at first at such good wages as she
gets. So lucky for me, is it not, since I must go to service ?
And so kind, too, of Sophy to interest herself for me !"
“Well, it may be so. But surely I have heard—my wife at
least has—that you and Richard Westlake were engaged ?-


MARY KINGSFORD.
149
Excuse me, Mary, I was not aware the subject was a painful or
unpleasant one.”
“Richard's father,” she replied with some spirit, “has
higher views for his son. It is all off between us now," she
added; “ and perhaps it is for the best that it should be so.”
I could have rightly interpreted these words without the aid
of the partially expressed sigh which followed them. The
perilous position of so attractive, so inexperienced, so guileless
a young creature, amidst the temptations and vanities of Lon-
don, so painfully impressed and preocupied me, that I scarcely
uttered another word till the rapidly diminishing rate of the
train announced that we neared a station, after which it was
probable we should have no farther opportunity for private
converse.
“ Those men--those fellows at Rugby—where did you meet
with them ?" I inquired.
“ About thirty or forty miles below Birmingham, where they
entered the carriage in which I was seated. At Birmingham I
managed to avoid them.”
· Little more passed between us till we reached London. So-
phia Clarke received her cousin at the Euston station, and
was profuse of felicitations and compliments upon her arrival
and personal appearance. After receiving a promise from
Mary Kingsford to call and take tea with my wife and her old
playmate on the following Sunday, I handed the two young
women into a cab in waiting, and they drove off. I had not
moved away from the spot when a voice a few paces behind me,
which I thought I recognised, called out : “ Quick, coachee, or
you'll lose sight of them !” As I turned quickly round, another
cab drove smartly off, which I followed at a run. I found, on
reaching Lower Seymour Street, that I was not mistaken as to


152
MARY KINGSFORD.
one or both of them will wear the queen's livery, gray turned
up with yellow, before many weeks are past. Good-by.”
About a fortnight after this conversation, I and my wife paid
a visit to Astley's, for the gratification of our youngsters, who
had long been promised a sight of the equestrian marvels exhib-
ited at that celebrated amphitheatre. It was the latter end of
February; and when we came out of the theatre, we found the
weather had changed to dark and sleety, with a sharp, nipping
wind. I had to call at Scotland-Yard; my wife and children
consequently proceeded home in a cab without me; and after
assisting to quell a slight disturbance originating in a gin-palace
close by, I went on my way over Westminster Bridge. The
inclement weather had cleared the streets and thoroughfares in
a surprisingly short time; so that, excepting myself, no foot-pas-
senger was visible on the bridge till I had about half-crossed it,
when a female figure, closely muffled up about the head, and
sobbing bitterly, passed rapidly by on the opposite side. I
turned and gazed after the retreating figure: it was a youthful,
symmetrical one ; and after a few moments' hesitation, I deter-
mined to follow at a distance, and as unobservedly as I could.
On the woman sped, without pause or hesitation, till she reached
Astley's, where I observed her stop suddenly, and toss her arms
in the air with a gesture of desperation. I quickened my steps,
which she observing, uttered a slight scream, and darted swiftly
off again, moaning and sobbing as she ran. The slight momen-
tary glimpse I had obtained of her features beneath the gas-
lamp opposite Astley's, suggested a frightful apprehension, and
I followed at my utmost speed. She turned at the first-cross
street, and I should soon have overtaken her, but that in dart-
ing round the corner where she disappeared, I ran full butt
against a stout, elderly gentleman, who was hurrying smartly


154
MARY KINGSFORD.
time to put off, and moreover, like most inland men, I was but
an indifferent swimmer. My indecision quickly vanished. The
wretched girl, though gradually sinking, had not yet uttered a cry,
or appeared to struggle ; but when the chilling waters reached
her lips, she seemed to suddenly revive to a consciousness of the
horror of her fate: she fought wildly with the engulphing tide,
and shrieked piteously for help. Before one could count ten, I
had grasped her by the arm, and lifted her head above the sur-
face of the river. As I did so, I felt as if suddenly encased
and weighed down by leaden garments, so quickly had my thick
clothing and high boots sucked in the water. Vainly, thus bur-
dened and impeded, did I endeavor to regain the raft; the
strong tide bore us outwards, and I glared round, in inexpres-
sible dismay, for some means of extrication from the frightful
peril in which I found myself involved. Happily, right in the
direction the tide was drifting us, a large barge lay moored by
a chain-cable. Eagerly I seized and twined one arm firmly
round it, and thus partially secure, hallooed with renewed power
for assistance. It soon came: a passer-by had witnessed the
flight of the girl and my pursuit, and was already hastening
with others to our assistance. A wherry was unmoored : guided
by my voice, they soon reached us; and but a brief interval
elapsed before we were safely housed in an adjoining tavern.
A change of dress, with which the landlord kindly supplied
me, a blazing fire, and a couple of glasses of hot brandy and
water, soon restored warmth and vigor to my chilled and par-
tially benumbed limbs ; but more than two hours elapsed before
Mary, who had swallowed a good deal of water, was in a con-
dition to be removed. I had just sent for a cab, when two
police officers, well known to me, entered the room with offi-
çial briskness. Mary screamed, staggered towards me, and


• MARY KINGSFORD.
155
clinging to my arm, besought me with frantic earnestness to
save her.
“What is the meaning of this ?" I exclaimed, addressing one
of the police-officers.
“Merely,” said he, “ that the young woman that's clinging
so tight to you has been committing an audacious robbery”_
“No-no—no !” broke in the terrified girl.
“Oh! of course you'll say so,” continued the officer. “All
I know is, that the diamond brooch was found snugly hid away
in her own box. But come, we have been after you for the
last three hours; so you had better come along at once.”
“ Save me !-save me !” sobbed poor Mary, as she tightened
her grasp upon my arm and looked with beseeching agony in
my face.
“Be comforted," I whispered; "you shall go home with
me. Calm yourself, Miss Kingsford,” I added in a louder
tone: “I no more believe you have stolen a diamond brooch
than that I have.”
“Bless you !– bless you !" she gasped in the intervals of her
convulsive sobs.
“ There is some wretched misapprehension in this business,
I am quite sure.” I continued; “ but at all events I shall bail
her— for this night at least.”
“Bail her! That is hardly regular.”
“No; but you will tell the superintendent that Mary Kings-
ford is in my custody, and that I answer for her appearance
to-morrow.”
The men hesitated, but I stood too well at head-quarters for
them to do more than hesitate; and the cab I had ordered being
just then announced, I passed with Mary out of the room as
quickly as I could, for I feared her senses were again leaving


156
MARY KINGSFORD.
her. The air revived her somewhat, and I lifted her into the
cab, placing myself beside her. She appeared to listen in fear-
ful doubt whether I should be allowed to take her with me;
and it was not till the wheels had made a score of revolutions
that her fears vanished; then throwing herself upon my neck
in an ecstacy of gratitude, she burst into a flood of tears, and
continued till we reached home sobbing on my bosom like a
broken-hearted child. She had, I found, been there about ten
o'clock to seek me, and being told that I was gone to Astley's,
had started off to find me there.
Mary still slept, or at least she had not risen, when I left
home the following morning to endeavor to get at the bottom
of the strange accusation preferred against her. I first saw the
superintendent, who, after hearing what I had to say, quite ap-
proved of all that I had done, and intrusted the case entirely to
my care. I next saw Mr. and Mrs. Morris and Sophia Clarke,
and then waited upon the prosecutor, a youngish gentleman of
the name of Saville, lodging in Essex Street, Strand. One or
two things I heard, necessitated a visit to other officers of police,
incidentally, as I found, mixed up with the affair. By the time
all this was done, and an effectual watch had been placed upon
Mr. Augustus Saville's movements, evening had fallen, and I
wended my way homewards, both to obtain a little rest, and
hear Mary Kingsford's version of the strange story.
The result of my inquiries may be thus briefly summed up.
Ten days before, Sophia Clarke told her cousin that she had
orders for Covent-Garden Theatre; and as it was not one of
their busy nights, she thought they might obtain leave to go.
Mary expressed her doubt of this, as both Mr. and Mrs. Morris,
who were strict, and somewhat fanatical Dissenters, disap-
proved of play-going, especially for young women. Never-


MARY KINGS FORD.
157
theless Sophia asked, informed Mary that the required permis-
sion had been readily accorded, and off they went in high spirits ;
Mary especially, who had never been to a theatre in her life
before. When there, they were joined by Hartley and Simp-
son, much to Mary's annoyance and vexation, especially as she
saw that her cousin expected them. She had, in fact, accepted
the orders from them. At the conclusion of the entertain-
ments, they all four came out together, when suddenly there
arose a hustling and confusion, accompanied with loud outcries,
and a violent swaying to and fro of the crowd. The disturb-
ance was, however, soon quelled; and Mary and her cousin had
reached the outer door, when two police-officers seized Hartley
and his friend, and insisted upon their going with them. A
scuffle ensued; but other officers being at hand, the two men
were secured and carried off. The cousins, terribly frightened,
called a coach, and were very glad to find themselves safe at
home again. And now it came out that Mr. and Mrs. Morris
had been told that they were going to spend the evening at my
house, and had no idea they were going to the play! Vexed as
Mary was at the deception, she was too kindly-tempered to refuse
to keep her cousin's secret; especially knowing as she did that
the discovery of the deceit Sophia had practised would in all
probability be followed by her immediate discharge. Hartley and
his friend swaggered on the following afternoon into the shop, and
whispered Sophia that their arrest by the police had arisen from
a strange mistake, for which the most ample apologies had been
offered and accepted. After this, matters went on as usual,
except that Mary perceived a growing insolence and familiarity
in Hartley's manner towards her. His language was frequently
quite unintelligible, and once he asked her plainly “if she did
not mean that he should go shares in the prize she had lately


158
MARY KINGSFORD.
found ?” Upon Mary replying that she did not comprehend
him, his look became absolutely ferocious, and he exclaimed:
“Oh, that's your game, is it? But don't try it on with me, my
good girl, I advise you.” So violent did he become, that Mr.
Morris was attracted by the noise, and ultimately bundled him,
neck and heels, out of the shop. She had not seen either him
or his companion since.
On the evening of the previous day, a gentleman whom she
never remembered to have seen before, entered the shop, took a
seat, and helped himself to a tart. She observed that after a
while he looked at her very earnestly, and at length approach-
ing quite close, said, “You were at Covent-Garden Theatre
last Tuesday evening week ?" Mary was struck, as she said,
all of a heap, for both Mr. and Mrs. Morris were in the shop,
and heard the question.
“ Oh, no, no ! you mistake,” she said hurriedly, and feeling
at the same time her cheeks kindle into flame.
“Nay, but you were though,” rejoined the gentleman. And
then lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “And let me
advise you, if you would avoid exposure and condign punish-
ment, to restore me the diamond brooch you robbed me of on
that evening.”
Mary screamed with terror, and a regular scene ensued. She
was obliged to confess she had told a falsehood in denying she
was at the theatre on the night in question, and Mr. Morris
after that seemed inclined to believe any thing of her. The
gentleman persisted in his charge ; but at the same time vehe-
mently iterating his assurance that all he wanted was his prop-
erty; and it was ultimately decided that Mary's boxes, as well
as her person, should be searched. This was done ; and to her
utter consternation the brooch was found concealed, they said,


MARY KINGSFORD.
159
in a black silk reticule. Denials, asservations, were vain. Mr.
Saville identified the brooch, but once more offered to be con-
tent with its restoration. This Mr. Morris, a just, stern man,
would not consent to, and he went out to summon a police-
officer. Before he returned, Mary, by the advice of both her
cousin and Mrs. Morris, had fled the house, and hurried in a
state of distraction to find me, with what result the reader
already knows.
“It is a wretched business," I observed to my wife, as soon
as Mary Kingsford had retired to rest, at about nine o'clock in
the evening. “Like you, I have no doubt of the poor girl's
perfect innocence; but how to establish it by satisfactory evi-
dence is another matter. I must take her to Bow Street the
day after to-morrow.
“Good God, how dreadful! Can nothing be done? What
does the prosecutor say the brooch is worth ?”
“His uncle,” he says, “ gave a hundred and twenty guineas
for it. But that signifies little ; for were its worth only a hun-
dred and twenty farthings, compromise is, you know, out of the
question.”
“I did not mean that. Can you show it me? I am a pretty
good judge of the value of jewels.”
“Yes, you can see it.” I took it out of the desk in which
I had locked it up, and placed it before her. It was a splendid
emerald, encircled by large brilliants.
My wife twisted and turned it about, holding it in all sorts of
lights, and at last said—“ I do not believe that either the eme-
rald or the brilliants are real—that the brooch is, in fact, worth
twenty shillings intrinsically."
“Do you say so?” I exclaimed as I jumped up from my
chair, for my wife's words gave color and consistence to a


MARY KINGS FORD.
161
I briefly explained the situation of affairs.
“The rascals !” he broke in almost before I had finished;
“I will briefly explain it all. A fellow of the name of Hart-
ley, at least that was the name he gave, robbed me, I was
pretty sure, of this brooch. I pointed him out to the police,
and he was taken into custody ; but nothing being found upon
him, he was discharged.”
“Not entirely, Mr. Bagshawe, on that account. You refused,
when arrived at the station-house, to state what you had been
robbed of; and you, moreover, said, in presence of the culprit,
that you were to embark with your regiment for India the next
day. That regiment, I have ascertained, did embark, as you
said it would.”
“ True; but I had leave of absence, and shall take the
Overland route. The truth is, that during the walk to the
station-house, I had leisure to reflect that if I made a formal
charge, it would lead to awkward disclosures. This brooch is
an imitation of one presented me by a valued relative. Losses
at play—since, for this unfortunate young woman's sake, I
must out with it—obliged me to part with the original ; and
I wore this, in order to conceal the fact from my relative's
knowledge.”
“ This will, sir,” I replied, “prove, with a little manage-
ment, quite sufficient for all purposes. You have no objection
to accompany me to the superintendent ?”
“Not in the least: only I wish the devil had the brooch as
well as the fellow that stole it.”
About half-past five o'clock on the same evening, the street
door was quietly opened by the landlord of the house in which
Mr. Saville lodged, and I walked into the front room on the
first floor, where I found the gentleman I sought languidly re-


162
MARY KINGSFORD.
clining on a sofa. He gathered himself smartly up at my ap-
pearance, and looked keenly in my face. He did not appear to
like what he read there.
“I did not expect to see you to-day,” he said at last.
“No, perhaps not: but I have news for you. Mr. Bag-
shawe, the owner of the hundred and twenty guinea brooch your
deceased uncle gave you, did not sail for India, and”-
The wretched cur, before I could conclude, was on his knees
begging for mercy with disgusting abjectness. I could have
spurned the scoundrel where he crawled.
“ Come, sir !" I cried, “let us have no snivelling or hum-
bug : mercy is not in my power, as you ought to know. Strive
to deserve it. We want Hartley and Simpson, and cannot find
them: you must aid us.”
“Oh yes ; to be sure I will !” eagerly rejoined the rascal.
" I will go for them at once,” he added with a kind of hesita-
ting assurance.
“Nonsense! Send for them, you mean. Do so, and I will
wait their arrival.”
His note was despatched by a sure hand; and meanwhile I
arranged the details of the expected meeting. I, and a friend,
whom I momently expected, would ensconce ourselves be-
hind a large screen in the room, whilst Mr. Augustus Saville
would run playfully over the charming plot with his two
friends, so that we might be able to fully appreciate its mer-
its. Mr. Saville agreed. I rang the bell, an officer appear-
ed, and we took our posts in readiness. We had scarcely
done so, when the street-bell rang, and Saville announced the
arrival of his confederates. There was a twinkle in the fel-
low's green eyes which I thought I understood. “Do not try
that on, Mr. Augustus Seville,” I quietly remarked : “we


MARY KINGSFORD.
163
.
are but two here certainly, but there are half a dozen in wait-
ing below.”
No more was said, and in another minute the friends met.
It was a boisterously jolly meeting, as far as shaking hands
and mutual felicitations or each other's good looks and health
went: Saville was, I thought, the most obstreperously gay of
all three.
“ And yet now I look at you, Saville, closely,” said Hartley,
“you don't look quite the thing. Have you seen a ghost ?”
“No; but this cursed brooch affair worries me.”
in the same boat. It's a regular three-handed game. I prig-
ged it; Simmy here whipped it into pretty Mary's reticule,
which she, I suppose, never looked into till the row came; and
you claimed it—a regular merry-go-round, aint it, eh? Ha!
ha! ha! Ha !”
“Quite so, Mr. Hartley,” said I, suddenly facing him, and
at the same time stamping on the floor ; “ as you say, a de-
lightful merry-go-round; and here, you perceive,” I added,
as the officers crowded into the room, “ are more gentlemen
to join in it.”
I must not stain the paper with the curses, imprecations,
blasphemies, which for a brief space resounded through the
apartment. The rascals were safely and separately locked up a
quarter of an hour afterwards ; and before a month had passed
away, all three were transported. It is scarcely necessary to
remark, that they believed the brooch to be genuine, and of
great value.
Mary Kingsford did not need to return to her employ. West-
lake the elder withdrew his veto upon his son's choice, and
the wedding was celebrated in the following May with great


164
MARY KINGSFORD.
rejoicing; Mary's old playmate officiating as bride-maid, and
I as bride's-father. The still young couple have now a
rather numerous family, and a home blessed with affection,
peace, and competence. It was some time, however, before
Mary recovered from the shock of her London adventure;
and I am pretty sure that the disagreeable reminiscences in-
separably connected in her mind with the metropolis, will pre-
vent at least one person from being present at the World's
Great Fair.


166
FLINT JACKSON.
who had purchased the missing articles. Dawkins and Purday
were, however, dumb as stones upon the subject; and nothing
occurred to point suspicion till early in the evening previous to
the second examination of the prisoners before the magistrates,
when Sarah Purday asked for pen, ink, and paper, for the
purpose of writing to one Mr. Jackson, in whose service she
had formerly lived. I happened to be at the prison, and of
course took the liberty of carefully unsealing her note and
reading it. It revealed nothing; and save by its extremely
cautious wording, and abrupt peremptory tone, coming from
a servant to her former master, suggested nothing. I had
carefully reckoned the number of sheets of paper sent into
the cell, and now on recounting them found that three were
missing. The turnkey returned immediately, and asked for
the two other letters she had written. The woman denied
having written any other, and for proof pointed to the torn
fragments of the missing sheets lying on the floor. These
were gathered up and brought to me, but I could make nothing
out of them, every word having been carefully run through with
the pen, and converted into an unintelligible blot. The request
contained in the actually-written letter was one simple enough
in itself, merely, “that Mr. Jackson would not on any account
fail to provide her, in consideration of past services, with legal
assistance on the morrow.” The first nine words were strongly
underlined ; and I made out after a good deal of trouble that
the word “pretence " had been partially effaced, and “ac-
count” substituted for it.
. “She need not have wasted three sheets of paper upon such
a nonsensical request as that,” observed the turnkey. “Old
Jackson wouldn't shell out sixpence to save her or anybody
else from the gallows."


168
FLINT JACKSON.
thoroughly, but cautiously, and to consider time as nothing so
long as there appeared a chance of fixing Jackson with the
guilt of receiving the plunder. Another suspicious circum-
stance that I have omitted to notice in its place was that the
Guilford solicitor tendered bail for the prisoners to any reasona-
ble amount, and named Enoch Jackson as one of the securities.
Bail was, however, refused.
There was no need for over-hurrying the business, as the
prisoners were committed to the Surrey Spring Assizes, and it
was now the season of the hop-harvest—a delightful and hilari-
ous period about Farnham when the weather is fine and the
yield abundant. I, however, lost no time in making diligent
and minute inquiry as to the character and habits of Jackson,
and the result was a full conviction that nothing but the fear of
being denounced as an accomplice could have induced such a
miserly, iron-hearted rogue to put himself to charges in defence
of the imprisoned burglars.
One afternoon, whilst pondering the matter, and at the same
time enjoying the prettiest and cheerfulest of rural sights, that
of hop-picking, the apothecary at whose house I was lodging
-we will call him Mr. Morgan ; he was a Welshman-tapped
me suddenly on the shoulder, and looking sharply round, I
perceived he had something he deemed of importance to com-
municate.
“What is it ?” I said quickly
“The oddest thing in the world. There's Flint Jackson, his
deaf old woman, and the young people lodging with him, all
drinking and boozing away at yon alehouse.”
“Shew them to me, if you please.”
A few minutes brought us to the place of boisterous enter- .
tainment, the lower room of which was suffocatingly full of tip-


FLINT JACKSON.
169
plers and tobacco-smoke. We nevertheless contrived to edge
ourselves in ; and my companion stealthily pointed out the
group, who were seated together near the farther window, and
then left me to myself.
The appearance of Jackson entirely answered to the popular
prefix of Flint attached to his name. He was a wiry, gnarled,
heavy-browed, iron-jawed fellow of about sixty, with deep-set
eyes aglow with sinister and greedy instincts. His wife, older
than he, and so deaf apparently as the door of a dungeon, wore
a simpering, imbecile look of wonderment, it seemed to me, at
the presence of such unusual and abundant cheer. The young
people, who lodged with Jackson, were really a very frank,
honest, good-looking couple, though not then appearing to
advantage—the countenance of Henry Rogers being flushed
and inflamed with drink, and that of his wife's clouded with
frowns, at the situation in which she found herself, and the
riotous conduct of her husband. Their brief history was this :-
They had both been servants in a family living not far distant
from Farnham--Sir Thomas Lethbridge's, I understood—when
about three or four months previous to the present time, Flint
Jackson, who had once been in an attorney's office, discovered
that Henry Rogers, in consequence of the death of a distant
relative in London, was entitled to property worth something
like £1500. There were, however, some law-difficulties in
the way, which Jackson offered, if the business was placed in
his hands, to overcome for a consideration, and in the meantime
to supply board and lodging and such necessary sums of money
as Henry Rogers might require. With this brilliant prospect
in view service became at once utterly distasteful. The for-
tunate legatee had for some time courted Mary Elkins, one of
the ladies' maids, a pretty, bright-eyed brunette; and they


170
FLINT JACKSON.
were both united in the bonds of holy matrimony on the very
day the “warnings” they had given expired. Since then they
had lived at Jackson's house in daily expectation of their “for-
tune,” with which they proposed to start in the public line.
Finding myself unrecognized, I called boldly for a pot and
a pipe, and after some manæuvring contrived to seat myself
within ear-shot of Jackson and his party. They presented a
strange study. Henry Rogers was boisterously excited, and
not only drinking freely himself, but treating a dozen fellows
round him, the cost of which he from time to time called upon
“ Old Flint,” as he courteously styled his ancient friend, to
discharge.
“Come, fork out, Old Flint !” he cried again and again.
It 'll be all right, you know, in a day or two, and a few half-
pence over. Shell out, old fellow! What signifies, so you're
happy ?”
Jackson complied with an affectation of acquiescent gaiety
ludicrous to behold. It was evident that each successive pull
at his purse was like wrenching a tooth out of his head, and
yet while the dismalest of smiles wrinkled his wolfish mouth,
he kept exclaiming: “A fine lad—a fine lad! generous as a
prince! Good Lord, another round! He minds money no
more than as if gold was as plentiful as gravel! But a fine
generous lad for all that !"
Jackson, I perceived, drank considerably, as if incited thereto
by compressed savageness. The pretty young wife would not
taste a drop, but tears frequently filled her eyes, and bitterness
pointed her words as she vainly implond her husband to leave
the place and go home with her. To all her remonstrances the
maudlin drunkard replied only by foolery, varied occasionally
by an attempt at a line or two of the song of “The Thorn.”


FLINT JACKSON.
171
“But you will plant thorns, Henry,” rejoined the provoked
wife in a louder and angrier tone than she ought perhaps to
have used—“not only in my bosom, but your own, if you go
on in this sottish, disgraceful way.”
“ Always quarreling, always quarreling!” remarked Jack-
son, pointedly, towards the bystanders—“ always quarreling !"
“Who is always quarreling ?” demanded the young wife
sharply. “Do you mean me and Henry ?”
“I was only saying, my dear, that you don't like your hus-
Jackson, with a confidential wink at the persons near him.
“Free-hearted and generous ! Fool-hearted and crazy, you
mean !" rejoined the wife, who was much excited. “And you
ought to be ashamed of yourself to give him money for such
brutish purposes.”
“Always quarreling, always quarreling !" iterated Jackson,
but this time unheard by Mrs. Rogers—“ always, perpetually
quarreling !"
I could not quite comprehend all this. If so large a sum as
£1500 was really coming to the young man, why should Jack-
son wince as he did at disbursing small amounts which he could
repay himself with abundant interest ? If otherwise—and it
was probable he should not be repaid—what meant his eternal,
“ fine generous lad !” “spirited young man!” and so on?
What, above all, meant that look of diabolical hate which shot
out from his cavernous eyes towards Henry Rogers when he
thought himself unobserved, just after satisfying a fresh claim
on his purse ? Much practice in reading the faces and deport-
ment of such men made it pretty clear to me that Jackson's
course of action respecting the young man and his money was
not yet decided upon in his own mind; that he was still per-


FLINT JACKSON.
173
Rogers, when the servant-woman, Jane Riddet, ran out and
begged him to come in, as their lodger had been taken suddenly
ill. Ill indeed! The surface of his body was cold as death,
and the apothecary quickly discovered that he had been poi-
soned with sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol), a quantity of which
he, Morgan, had sold a few days previously to Mrs. Rogers,
who, when purchasing it, said Mr. Jackson wanted it to apply
to some warts that annoyed him. Morgan fortunately knew the
proper remedy, and desired Jackson, who was in the room, and
seemingly very anxious and flurried, to bring some soap instantly,
a solution of which he proposed to give immediately to the
seemingly dying man. The woman-servant was gone to find
Mrs. Rogers, who had left about ten minutes before, having first
made the tea in which the poison had been taken. Jackson
hurried out of the apartment, but was gone so long that Morgan,
becoming impatient, scraped a quantity of plaster off the wall,
and administered it with the best effect. At last Jackson came
back, and said there was unfortunately not a particle of soap in
the house. A few minutes afterwards the young wife, alarmed
at the woman-servant's tidings, flew into the room in an agony
of alarm and grief. Simulated alarm, crocodile grief, Mr.
Morgan said; for there could, in his opinion, be no doubt that
she had attempted to destroy her husband. Mr. Jackson, on
being questioned, peremptorily denied that he had ever desired
Mrs. Rogers to procure sulphuric acid for him, or had received
any from her—a statement which so confounded the young
woman that she instantly fainted. The upshot was that Mrs.
Rogers was taken into custody and lodged in prison.
This terrible news flew through Farnham like wild-fire. In
a few minutes it was upon everybody's tongue : the hints of the
quarrelsome life the young couple led, artfully spread by Jack-


FLINT JACKSON.
175
the black crime home to the real perpetrator. For the present,
at all events, I must keep silence—a resolve I found hard to
persist in at the examination of the accused wife, an hour or
two afterwards, before the county magistrates. Jackson had
hardened himself to iron, and gave his lying evidence with
ruthless self-possession. He had not desired Mrs. Rogers to
purchase sulphuric acid; had not received any from her. In
addition also to his testimony that she and her husband were
always quarreling, it was proved by a respectable person that
high words had passed between them on the evening previous to
the day the eriminal offence was committed, and that foolish,
passionate expressions had escaped her about wishing to be rid
of such a drunken wretch. This evidence, combined with the
medical testimony, appeared so conclusive to the magistrates,
that spite of the unfortunate woman's wild protestations of
innocence, and the rending agony which convulsed her frame,
and almost choked her utterence, she was remanded to prison
till that day-week, when, the magistrates informed her, she
would be again brought up for the merely formal completion
of the depositions, and be then fully committed on the capital
eharge.
I was greatly disturbed, and walked for two or three hours
about the quiet neighborhood of Farnham, revolving a hundred
fragments of schemes for bringing the truth to light, without
arriving at any feasible conclusion. One only mode of procedure
seemed to offer, and that but dimly, a hope of success. It was,
however, the best I could hit upon, and I directed my steps
towards the Farnham prison. Sarah Purday had not yet, I
remembered, been removed to the county jail at Guilford.
“Is Sarah Purday,” I asked the turnkey,“ more reconciled
to her position than she was ?”


FLINT JACKSON.
177
cast you off—abandoned you to your fate ; and that fate will,
there can be no doubt, be transportation.”
“Well,” she impatiently snarled,“ suppose so ; what then ?”
“This—that you can help yourself in this difficulty by help-
ing me.”
“ As how ???
“In the first place, give me the means of convicting Jackson
of having received the stolen property.”
“ Ha! How do you know that ?”
“Oh, I know it very well—as well almost as you do. But
this is not my chief object; there is another far more important
one,” and I ran over the incidents relative to the attempt at
poisoning. “Now," I resumed, “ tell me, if you will, your
opinion on this matter.”
“ That it was Jackson administered the poison, and certainly
not the young woman,” she replied with vengeful promptness.
“My own conviction! This, then, is my proposition :-
you are sharp-witted, and know this fellow's ways, habits, and
propensities thoroughly-I, too, have heard something of them
--and it strikes me that you could suggest some plan, some
device grounded on that knowledge, whereby the truth might
come to light.”
The woman looked fixedly at me for some time without
speaking. As I meant fairly and honestly by her I could bear
her gaze without shrinking.
“Supposing I could assist you,” she at last said, “how would
that help me ?”
“ It would help you greatly. You would no doubt be still
convicted of the burglary, for the evidence is irresistible ; but
if in the meantime you should have been instrumental in saving
the life of an innocent person, and of bringing a great criminal


FLINT JACKSON.
179
Tears welled up to the fierce eyes, but they were quickly
brushed away, and she continued somewhat more calmly :-
“You have heard, I dare say, that Jackson has a strange habit
of talking in his sleep ?”
“I have, and that he once consulted Morgan as to whether
there was any cure for it. It was that which partly sug-
gested ”-
“It is, I believe, a mere fancy of his,” she interrupted; “or
at any rate the habit is not so frequent, nor what he says so
intelligible, as he thoroughly believes and fears it, from some
former circumstances, to be. His deaf wife cannot undeceive
him, and he takes care never even to doze except in her
presence only."
“ This is not, then, so promising as I hoped.”
“ Have patience. It is full of promise, as we will manage
Every evening Jackson frequents a low gambling-house, where
he almost invariably wins small sums at cards--by craft, no
doubt, as he never drinks there. When he returns home at
about ten o'clock, his constant habit is to go into the front-
parlor, where his wife is sure to be sitting at that hour. He
carefully locks the door, helps himself to brandy and water-
plentifully of late—and falls asleep in his arm-chair; and there
they both doze away, sometimes till one o'clock—always till
past twelve."
“Well; but I do not see how "-
“ Hear me out, if you please. Jackson never wastes a can-
dle to drink or sleep by, and at this time of the year there will
be no fire. If he speaks to his wife he does not expect her,
from her wooden deafness. to answer him. Do you begin to
perceive my drift ?”
“Upon my word, I do not.”


180
FLINT JACKSON.
“What; if upon awaking, Jackson finds that his wife is Mr.
Waters, and that Mr. Waters relates to him all that he has dis-
closed in his sleep: that Mr. Hursley's plate is buried in the
garden near the lilac-tree ; that he, Jackson, received a thou-
sand pounds six weeks ago of Henry Roger's fortune, and that
the money is now in the recess on the top-landing, the key of
which is in his breast-pocket; that he was the receiver of the
plate stolen from a house in the close at Salisbury a twelve-
month ago, and sold in London for four hundred and fifty
pounds. All this hurled at him,” continued the woman with
wild energy and flashing eyes, “what else might not a bold,
quick-witted man make him believe he had confessed, revealed
in his brief sleep ?”
I had been sitting on a bench; but as these rapid disclosures
burst from her lips, and I saw the use to which they might be
turned, I rose slowly and in some sort involuntarily to my feet,
lifted up, as it were, by the energy of her fiery words.
“God reward you !" I exclaimed, shaking both her hands in
mine. “You have, unless I blunder, rescued an innocent
woman from the scaffold. I see it all. Farewell !”
“Mr. Waters,” she exclaimed, in a changed, palpitating
voice, as I was passing forth ; " when all is done, you will not
forget me ?"
“ That I will not, by my own hopes of mercy in the here-
after. Adieu !!!
At a quarter past nine that evening I, accompanied by two
Farnham constables, knocked at the door of Jackson's house.
Henry Rogers, I should state, had been removed to the village.
The door was opened by the woman-servant, and we went in.
“I have a warrant for your arrest, Jane Riddet,” I said, “ as
an accomplice in the plate stealing the other day. There, don't


FLINT JACKSON.
181
scream, but listen to me." I then intimated the terms upon
which alone she could expect favor. She tremblingly promised
compliance; and after placing the constables outside, in conceal-
ment, but within hearing, I proceeded to the parlor, secured the
terrified old woman, and confined her safely in a distant out-
house.
“Now, Riddet,” I said, “ quick with one of the old lady's
gowns, a shawl, cap, etcetera.” · These were brought, and I
returned to the parlor. It was a roomy apartment, with small,
diamond-paned windows, and just then but very faintly illumined
by the star-light. There were two large high-backed easy-
chairs, and I prepared to take possession of the one recently
vacated by Jackson's wife. “You must perfectly understand,”
were my parting words to the trembling servant, “ that we
intend standing no nonsense with either you or your master.
You cannot escape ; but if you let Mr. Jackson in as usual,
and he enters this room as usual, no harm will befall you:
if otherwise, you will be unquestionably transported. Now,
go.”
My toilet was not so easily accomplished as I thought it would
be. The gown did not meet at the back by about a foot; .that,
however, was of little consequence, as the high-chair concealed
the deficiency; neither did the shortness of the sleeves matter
much, as the ample shawl could be made to hide my too great
length of arm; but the skirt was scarcely lower than a High-
lander's, and how the deuce I was to crook my booted legs up
out of view, even in that gloomy starlight, I could hardly ima-
gine. The cap also was far too small; still, with an ample
kerchief in my hand, my whiskers might, I thought, be con-
cealed. I was still fidgeting with these arrangements when
Jackson knocked at his door. The servant admitted him with-


182
FLINT JACKSON.
out remark, and he presently entered the room, carefully locked
the door, and jolted down, so to speak, in the fellow easy-chair
to mine.
He was silent for a few moments, and then he bawled out:
“She'll swing for it, they say—swing for it, d'ye hear, dame ?
But no, of course she don't—deafer and deafer, deafer and
deafer every day. It'll be a precious good job when the par-
son says his last prayers over her as well as others.”
He then got up, and went to a cupboard. I could hear-
for I dared not look up-by the jingling of glasses and the out-
pouring of liquids that he was helping himself to his spirituous
sleeping-draughts. He reseated himself, and drank in moody
silence, except now and then mumbling drowsily to himself, but
in so low a tone that I could make nothing out of it save an
occasional curse or blasphemy. It was nearly eleven o'clock
before the muttered self-communing ceased, and his heavy head
sank upon the back of the easy-chair. He was very restless,
and it was evident that even his sleeping brain labored with
affrighting and oppressive images; but the mutterings, as before
he slept, were confused and indistinct. At length—half an
hour had perhaps thus passed—the troubled moanings became
out, “how are you off for soap? Ho-ho! done there, my
boy; ha-ha! But no-no. Wall-plaster! Who could have
thought it? But for that I-I— What do you stare at me
so for, you infernal blue-bottle ? You-you” — Again the
dream-utterance sank into indistinctness, and I comprehended
nothing more.
About half-past twelve o'clock he awoke, rose, stretched
himself, and said :—“Come, dame, let's to bed ; it's getting
chilly here."


184
FLINT JACKSON.
“Where did you hide the soap on the day when you confess
you tried to poison Henry Rogers ?”
“In the recess you spoke of. But think! Two thousand
pounds in gold—all in gold ”_
As he spoke, I suddenly grasped the villain's hands, pressed
them together, and in another instant the snapping of a hand-
cuff pronounced my answer. A yell of anguish burst from the
miserable man, so loud and piercing, that the constables outside
hurried to the outer-door, and knocked hastily for admittance.
They were let in by the servant-woman ; and in half an hour
afterwards the three prisoners—Jackson, his wife, and Jane
Riddet-were safe in Farnham prison.
A few sentences will conclude this narrative. Mary Rogers
was brought up on the following day, and, on my evidence, dis-
charged. Her husband, I have heard, has since proved a better
and a wiser man, Jackson was convicted at the Guilford assize
of guiltily receiving the Hursley plate, and sentenced to trans-
portation for life. This being so, the graver charge of attempt-
ing to poison was not pressed. There was no moral doubt of his
guilt; but the legal proof of it rested solely on his own hurried
confession, which counsel would no doubt have contended ought
not to be received. His wife and the servant were leniently
dealt with.
Sarah Purday was convicted, and sentenced to transportation.
I did not forget my promise ; and a statement of the previously-
narrated circumstances having been drawn up and forwarded to
the Queen and the Home Secretary, a pardon, after some delay,
was issued. There were painful circumstances in her history
which, after strict inquiry, told favorably for her. Several
benevolent persons interested themselves in her behalf, and she





190
THE MODERN SCIENCE OF THIEF-TAKING.
To each division of the Force is attached two officers, who are
denominated “detectives.” The staff, or head-quarters, con-
sists of six sergeants and two inspectors. Thus the Detective
Police, of which we hear so much, consists of only forty-two
individuals, whose duty it is to wear no uniform, and to perform
the most difficult operations of their craft. They have not only
to counteract the machinations of every sort of rascal whose only
means of existence is avowed rascality, but to clear up family
mysteries, the investigation of which demands the utmost deli-
cacy and tact.
One instance will show the difference between a regular and
a detective policeman. Your wife discovers on retiring for the
night, that her toilette has been plundered ; her drawers are
void; except the ornaments she now wears, her beauty is as un-
adorned as that of a quakeress : not a thing is left ; all the fond
tokens you gave her when her pre-nuptial lover, are gone;
your own miniature, with its setting of gold and brilliants ; her
late mother's diamonds ; the bracelets “dear papa” presented
on her last birth-day ; the top of every bottle in the dressing-
case brought from Paris by Uncle John, at the risk of his life,
in February 1848, are off—but the glasses remain. Every
valuable is swept away with the most discriminating villainy ;
for no other thing in the chamber has been touched ; not a chair
has been moved; the costly pendule on the chimney-piece still
ticks; the entire apartment is as neat and trim as when it had
received the last finishing sweep of the housemaid's duster.
The entire establishment runs frantically up stairs and down
stairs ; and finally congregates in my Lady's Chamber. Nobody
knows anything whatever about it; yet everybody offers a sug-
gestion, although they have not an idea “ who ever did it.”
The housemaid bursts into tears; the cool: declares she thinks


THE MODERN SCIENCE OF THIEF-TAKING.
191
she is going into hysterics ; and at last you suggest sending for
the Police ; which is taken as a suspicion of, and insult on the
whole assembled household, and they descend into the lower
regions of the house in the sulks.
X 49 arrives. His face betrays sheepishness, combined with
mystery. He turns his bull's-eye into every corner, and upon
every countenance (including that of the cat), on the premises.
He examines all the locks, bolts, and bars, bestowing extra
diligence on those which enclosed the stolen treasures. These
he declares have been “Wiolated ;” by which he means that
there has been more than one “Rape of the Lock.” He then
mentions about the non-disturbance of other valuables ; takes
you solemnly aside, darkens his lantern, and asks if you suspect,
any of your servants, in a mysterious whisper, which implies that
he does. He then examines the upper bed-rooms, and in that
of the female servants he discovers the least valuable of the
rings, and a cast-off silver tooth-pick between the mattresses.
You have every confidence in your maids ; but what can you
think? You suggest their safe custody; but your wife inter-
cedes, and the policeman would prefer speaking to his inspector
before he locks anybody up.
Had the whole matter remained in the hands of X 49, it is
possible that your troubles would have lasted you till now. A
train of legal proceedings—actions for defamation of character
and suits for damages—would have followed, which would have
cost more than the value of the jewels, and the entire execration
of all your neighbors and every private friend of your domestics.
But, happily, the Inspector promptly sends a plain, earnest-
looking man, who announces himself as one of the two Detectives
of the X division. He settles the whole matter in ten minutes.
His examination is ended in five. As a connoisseur can deter-


THE MODERN SCIENCE OF THIEF-TAKING.
193
how long you remain in the dining-room. A day is selected;
while you are busy dining, and your servants busy waiting on
you, the thing is done. Previously, many journeys have been
made over the roofs, to find out the best means of entering your
house. The attic is chosen ; the robber gets in, and creeps
noiselessly, or dances' into the place to be robbed.”
“Is there any chance of recovering our property ?" you ask
anxiously, seeing the whole matter at a glance.
“I hope so. I have sent some brother officers to watch the
Fences' houses."
“ Fences ??
“Fences,” explains the Detective, in reply to your innocent
wife's inquiry, "are purchasers of stolen goods. Your jewels
will be forced out of their settings, and the gold melted.”
The lady tries, ineffectually, to suppress a slight scream.
“We shall see, if, at this unusual hour of the night, there is
any bustle in or near any of these places ; if any smoke is
coming out of any one of their furnaces, where the melting takes
place. I shall go and seek out the precise “garretter?—that's
another name these plunderers give themselves—whom I sus-
pect. By his trying to 'sell' your domestics by placing the
ring and toothpick in their bed, I think I know the man. It is
just in his style.”
The next morning, you find all these suppositions verified.
The Detective calls, and obliges you at breakfast--after a sleep-
less night—with a complete list of the stolen articles, and pro-
duces some of them for identification. In three months, your
wife gets nearly every article back; her damsels’ innocence is
fully established ; and the thief is taken from his “school” to
spend a long holiday in a penal colony.
This is a mere common-place transaction, compared with the


196
THE MODERN SCIENCE OF THIEF-TAKING.
them into a private room, where they were so good as to offer
him fifty pounds to let them go. He declined, and over-hauled
their booty; it consisted of several gold pins, watches, (some of
great value,) chains and rings, silver snuff-boxes, and bank-notes
of the value of one hundred pounds! Eventually, however, as
owners could not be found for some of the property, and some
others would not prosecute, they escaped with a light pun-
ishment.
In order to counteract the plans of the swell mob, two of the
sergeants of the Detective Police make it their business to
know every one of them personally. The consequence is, that
the appearance of either of these officers upon any scene of
operations is a bar to anything or anybody being“ done.”
This is an excellent characteristic of the Detectives, for they
thus become as well a Preventive Police. We will give an
illustration :-
You are at the Oxford commemoration. As you descend the
broad stairs of the Roebuck to dine, you overtake on the land-
ing a gentleman of foreign aspect and elegant attire. The
variegated pattern of his vest, the jetty gloss of his boots, and
the exceeding whiteness of his gloves—one of which he crushes
in his somewhat delicate hand—convince you that he is going to
the grand ball, to be given that evening at Merton. The glance
he gives you while passing, is shary, but comprehensive; and
if his eye does rest upon any one part of your person and its
accessories more than another, it is upon the gold watch which
you have just taken out to see if dinner be “due.” As you
step aside to make room for him, he acknowledges the courtesy
with “ Par-r-r-don,” in the richest Parisian gros parle, and a
smile so full of intelligence and courtesy, that you hope he
speaks English, for you set him dowe as an agreeable fellow,


THE MODERN SCIENCE OF THIEF-TAKING.
199
“S’ help me —
“ Hush !” interrupts the dinner spoiler, holding up his hand
in a cautionary manner. “Have you done anything to-day?”
“Not a thing."
Then there is some more in a low tone ; but you again dis-
tinguish the word “school,” and “seven o'clock train.” They
are too old to be the Frenchman's pupils; perhaps they are his
assistants. Surely they are not all the victims of the same
capias and the same officer !
By this time the landlord, looking very nervous, arrives with
his bill: then comes the head waiter, who clears the table ;
carefully counting the forks. The reckoning is paid, and the
trio steal out of the room with the man of mystery behind them,
--like sheep driven to the shambles.
You follow to the Railway station, and there you see the
Frenchman, who complains bitterly of being “ sold for noting”
by his enemy. The other three utter a confirmative groan. In
spite of the evident omnipotence of their persevering follower,
your curiosity impels you to address him. You take a turn on
the platform together, and he explains the whole mystery.
“ The fact is,” he begins, “I am Sergeant Witchem, of the
Detective police.” -
“ And your four victims are ?”_
“Members of a crack school of swell-mobsmen." .
“What do you mean by school ?!”
“Gang. There is a variety of gangs—that is to say, of men
who 'work' together, who play into one another's hands. These
gentlemen hold the first rank, both for skill and enterprise, and
had they been allowed to remain would have brought back a
tonsiderable booty. Their chief is the Frenchman."
“Why do they obey your orders so passively ?”


THE MODERN SCIENCE OF THIEF-TAKING.
201
two gold eye-glasses, and several jeweled rings. “The eye,”
said our informant, “is the great detector. We can tell in a
crowd what a swell-mobsman is about by the expression of his
eye.”
It is supposed that the number of persons who make a trade
of thieving in London is not more than six thousand ; of these,
nearly two hundred are first-class thieves or swell-mobsmen ;
six hundred “macemen,” and trade swindlers, bill-swindlers,
dog-stealers, &c. ; About forty burglars, “ dancers,” “ garret-
teers,” and other adepts with the skeleton-keys. The rest are
pickpockets, “ gonophs—" mostly young thiever who sneak
into areas, and rob tills—and other pilferers.
To detect and circumvent this fraternity, is the science of
thief-taking. Here, it is, however, impossible to give even an
imperfect notion of the high amount of skill, intelligence, and
knowledge, concentrated in the character of a clever Detective
Policeman. We shall therefore finish the sketch in another
part.


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
203
proceeds so systematically and quietly, does its business in such
a workman-like manner, and is always so calmly and steadily
engaged in the service of the public, that the public really do
not know enough of it, to know a tithe of its usefulness. Im-
pressed with this conviction, and interested in the men them-
selves, we represented to the authorities at Scotland Yard, that
we should be glad, if there were no official objection, to have
some talk with the Detectives. A most obliging and ready per-
mission being given, a certain evening was appointed with a
certain Inspector for a social conference between ourselves and
the Detectives, at our Office in Wellington Street, Strand, Lon-
don. In consequence of which appointment the party “came
off,” which we are about to describe. And we beg to repeat
that, avoiding such topics as it might for obvious reasons be in-
jurious to the public, or disagreeable to respectable individuals to
touch upon in print, our description is as exact as we can make it.
Just at dusk, Inspectors Wield and Stalker are announced ;
but we do not undertake to warrant the orthography of any of
the names here mentioned. Inspector Wield presents Inspector
Stalker. Inspector Wield is a middle-aged man of a portly
presence, with a large, moist, knowing eye, a husky voice, and
a habit of emphasising his conversation by the aid of a corpulent
fore-finger, which is constantly in juxta-position with his eyes or
nose. Inspector Stalker is a shrewd, hard-headed Scotchman-
in appearance not at all unlike a very acute, thoroughly-trained
school-master, from the Normal Establishment at Glasgow. In-
spector Wield one might have known, perhaps, for what he is—
Inspector Stalker, never.
The ceremonies of reception over, Inspectors Wield and
Stalker observe that they have brought some sergeants with
them. The sergeants are presented-five in number, Sergeant


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
205
keen observation, and quick perception when addressed ; and
generally presenting in their faces, traces more or less marked
of habitually leading lives of strong mental excitement. They
have all good eyes ; and they all can, and they all do, look full
at whomsoever they speak to.
We light the cigars, and hand round the glasses (which are
very temperately used indeed), and the conversation begins by
a modest amateur reference on the Editorial part to the swell
mob. Inspector Wield immediately removes his cigar from his
lips, waves his right hand, and says, “Regarding the Swell Mob,
Sir, I can't do better than call upon Sergeant Witchem. Be-
cause the reason why? I 'll tell you. Sergeant Witchem
is better acquainted with the Swell Mob than any officer in
London."
Our heart leaping up when we beheld this rainbow in the
sky, we turn to Sergeant Witchem, who very concisely, and in
well-chosen language, goes into the subject forthwith. Mean-
time, the whole of his brother officers are closely interested in
attending to what he says, and observing its effect. Presently
they begin to strike in, one or two together, when an opportunity
offers, and the conversation becomes general. But these brother
officers only come in to the assistance of each other—not to the
contradiction—and a more amicable brotherhood there could not
be. From the swell mob, we diverge to the kindred topics of
cracksmen, fences, public-house dancers, area-sneaks, designing
young people who go out “gonophing,” and other “schools,” to
which our readers have already been introduced. It is observ-
able throughout these revelations, that Inspector Stalker, the
Scotchman, is always exact and statistical, and that when any
question of figures arises, everybody as by one consent pauses,
and looks to him.


206
A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
When we have exhausted the various schools of Art-during
which discussion the whole body have remained profoundly at-
tentive, except when some unusual noise at the Theatre over
the way, has induced some gentleman to glance inquiringly
towards the window in that direction, behind his next neighbor's
back—we burrow for information on such points as the follow-
ing. Whether there really are any highway robberies in Lon-
don, or whether some circumstances not convenient to be men-
tioned by the aggrieved party, usually precede the robberies
complained of, under that head, which quite change their char-
acter ? Certainly the latter, almost always. Whether in the
case of robberies in houses, where servants are necessarily ex-
posed to doubt, innocence under suspicion ever becomes so like
guilt in appearance, that a good officer need be cautious how he
judges it? Undoubtedly. Nothing is so common or deceptive
as such appearances at first. Whether in a place of public
amusement, a thief knows an officer, and an officer knows a
thief,--supposing them, beforehand, strangers to each other-
because each recognizes in the other, under all disguise, an in-
attention to what is going on, and a purpose that is not the
purpose of being entertained ? Yes. That's the way exactly.
Whether it is reasonable or ridiculous to trust to the alleged
experiences of thieves as narrated by themselves, in prisons, or
penitentiaries, or anywhere? In general, nothing more absurd.
Lying is their habit and their trade ; and they would rather lie
—even if they hadn't an interest in it, and didn't want to make
themselves agreeable—than tell the truth.
From these topics, we glide into a review of the most cele-
brated and horrible of the great crimes that have been committed
within the last fifteen or twenty years. The men engaged in
the discovery of almost all of them, and in the pursuit or appre-


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
207
hension of the murderers, are here, down to the very last in-
stance. One of our guests gave chase to and boarded the Emi-
grant Ship, in which the murderess last hanged in London was
supposed to have embarked. We learn from him that his errand
was not announced to the passengers, who may have no idea of
it to this hour. That he went below, with the captain, lamp in
hand--it being dark, and the whole steerage abed and sea-sick-
and engaged the Mrs. Manning who was on board, in a conver-
sation about her luggage, until she was, with no small pains, -
induced to raise her head, and turn her face towards the light.
Satisfied that she was not the object of his search, he quietly re-
embarked in the Government steamer alongside, and steamed
home again with the intelligence.
When we have exhausted these subjects, too, which occupy a
considerable time in the discussion, two or three leave their
chairs, whisper Sergeant Witchem, and resume their seats.
Sergeant Witchem, leaning forward a little, and placing a hand
on each of his legs, then modestly speaks as follows :
“My brother-officers wish me to relate a little account of my
taking Tally-ho Thompson. A man oughtn’t to tell what he
has done himself; but still, as nobody was with me, and, con-
sequently, as nobody but myself can tell it, I'll do it in the
best way I can, if it should meet your approval.”
We assure Sergeant Witchem that he will oblige us very
much, and we all compose ourselves to listen with great interest
and attention.
“ Tally-ho Thompson,” says Sergeant Witchem, after merely
wetting his lips with his brandy and water, “ Tally-ho Thomp-
son was a famous horse-stealer, couper, and magsman. Thomp-
son, in conjunction with a pal that occasionally worked with him,
gammoned a countryman out of a good round sum of money,


208
A DETECTIVE POI:C I PARTY.
under pretence of getting him a situation—the regular old
dodge—and was afterwards in the ‘Hue and Cry' for a horse-
a horse that he stole, down in Hertfordshire. I had to look
after Thompson, and I applied myself, of course, in the first
instance, to discovering where he was. Now, Thompson's wife
lived, along with a little daughter, at Chelsea. Knowing that
Thompson was somewhere in the country, I watched the house
—especially at post-time in the morning—thinking Thompson
was pretty likely to write to her. Sure enough, one morning
the postman comes up, and delivers a letter at Mrs. Thompson's
door. Little girl opens the door, and takes it in. We're not
always sure of postmen, though the people at the post-offices are
always very obliging. A postman may help us, or he may not,
--just as it happens. However, I go across the road, and I say
to the postman, after he has left the letter, "Good morning !
how are you?' 'How are you?' says he. “You've just de-
livered a letter for Mrs. Thompson.' Yes, I have.' 'You
didn't happen to remark what the post-mark was, perhaps ?'
“No,' says he, ' I didn't.' 'Come,' says I, “I'll be plain with
you. I'm in a small way of business, and I have given Thomp.
son credit, and I can't afford to lose what he owes me. I know
he's got money, and I know he's in the country, and if you
could tell me what the post-mark was, I should be very much
obliged to you, and you 'd do a service to a tradesman in a small
way of business that can't afford a loss.” “Well,' he said, “I do
assure you that I did not observe what the post-mark was; all
I know is, that there was money in the letter—I should say a
sovereign. This was enough for me, because of course I knew
that Thompson having sent his wife money, it was probable she'd
write to Thompson, by return of post, to acknowledge the re-
ceipt. So I said " Thankee' to the postman, and I kept on the


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
209
watch. In the afternoon I saw the little girl come out. Of
course I followed her. She went into a stationer's shop, and I
needn't say to you that I looked in at the window. She bought
some writing-paper and envelopes, and a pen. I think to my-
self, ' That 'll do !-watch her home again—and don't go away,
you may be sure, knowing that Mrs. Thompson was writing her
letter to Tally-ho, and that the letter would be posted presently.
In about an hour or so, out came the little girl again, with the
letter in her hand. I went up, and said something to the child,
whatever it might have been ; but I couldn't see the direction
of the letter, because she held it with the seal upwards. How-
ever, I observed that on the back of the letter there was what
we call a kiss—a drop of wax by the side of the seal--and
again, you understand, that was enough for me. I saw her post
the letter, waited till she was gone, then went into the shop, and
asked to see the Master. When he came out, I told him, ' Now,
I'm an Officer in the Detective Force ; there's a letter with a
kiss been posted here just now, for a man that I'm in search
of; and what I have to ask of you is, that you will let me look
at the direction of that letter.” He was very civil—took a lot
of letters from the box in the window-shook 'em out on the
counter with the faces downwards--and there among 'em was
the identical letter with the kiss. It was directed, Mr. Thomas
Pigeon, Post-Office, B- , to be left 'till called for. Down
I went to B- (a hundred and twenty miles or so) that
night. Early next morning I went to the Post-Office ; saw the
gentleman in charge of that department; told him who I was ;
and that my object was to see, and track, the party that should
come for the letter for Mr. Thomas Pigeon. He was very po-
lite, and said, “ You shall have every assistance we can give you ;
you can wait inside the office ; and we 'll take care to let you


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
213
to myself, however, that they might be coming after me on the
dark road, to rescue Thompson ; so I said to the landlady,-
What men have you got in the house, Missis?' We haven't
got no men here,' she says, sulkily. “You have got an ostler,
I suppose ?' Yes, we 've got an ostler.' 'Let me see him.'
Presently he came, and a shaggy-headed young fellow he was.
'Now attend to me, young man,' says I; 'I'm a Detective
Officer from London. This man's name is Thompson. I have
taken him into custody for felony. I'm going to take him to
the railroad station. I call upon you in the Queen's name to
assist me; and mind you, my friend, you 'll get yourself into
more trouble than you know of, if you don't ! You never saw
a person open his eyes so wide. Now, Thompson, come along !!
says I. But when I took out the handcuffs, Thompson cries,
“No! None of that! I won't stand them! I'll go along with
you quiet, but I won't bear none of that !! "Tally-ho Thomp-
son,' I said, 'I'm willing to behave as a man to you, if you are
willing to behave as a man to me. Give me your word that
you 'll come peaceably along, and I don't want to handcuff you.'
'I will,' says Thompson, “ but I 'll have a glass of brandy first.?
'I don't care if I've another,' said I. "We 'll have two more,
Missis," said the friends, and con-found you, Constable, you 'll
give your man a drop, won't you?' I was agreeable to that, so
we had it all round, and then my man and I took Tally-ho
Thompson safe to the railroad, and I carried him to London
that night. He was afterwards acquitted, on account of a de-
fect in the evidence ; and I understand he always praises me up
to the skies, and says I'm one of the best of men.”
This story coming to a termination amidst general applause,
Inspector Wield, after a little grave smoking, fixes his eye on
his host, and thus delivers himself :


214
A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
“It wasn't a bad plant that of mine, on Fikey, the man ac-
cused of forging the Sou' Western Railway debentures--it was
only t’ other day—because the reason why ? I'll tell you.
“I had information that Fikey and his brother kept a factory
over yonder there,” indicating any region on the Surrey side of
the river, “where he bought second-hand carriages; so after I'd
tried in vain to get hold of him by other means, I wrote him a
letter in an assumed name, saying that I'd got a horse and shay
to dispose of, and would drive down next day, that he might view
the lot, and make an offer--very reasonable it was, I said--a
reg’lar bargain. Straw and me then went off to a friend of mine
that's in the livery and job business, and hired a turn-out for the
day, a precious smart turn-out, it was-quite a slap-up thing !
Down we drove, accordingly, with a friend (who 's not in the
Force himself) ; and leaving my friend in the shay near a
public-house, to take care of the horse, we went to the factory,
which was some little way off. In the factory, there was a
number of strong fellows at work, and after reckoning 'em up,
it was clear to me that it wouldn't do to try it on there. They
were too many for us. We must get our man out of doors.
“Mr. Fikey at home ?' 'No, he ain't.' 'Expected home
soon ?" "Why, no, not soon.' "Ah! is his brother here ?"
*I'm his brother.' 'Oh! well, this is an ill-conwenience, this
is. I wrote him a letter yesterday, saying I'd got a little turn-
out to dispose of, and I've took the trouble to bring the turn-
out down, a' purpose, and now he ain't in the way.' 'No, he
an't in the way. You couldn't make it convenient to call again,
could you ?? Why, no, I couldn't. I want to sell ; that's
the fact; and I can't put it off. Could you find him any-
wheres?' At first he said no, he couldn't, and then he wasn't
sure about it, and then he'd go and try. So, at last he went


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
219
just casting my eye round, I used to see some of 'em following
me; but, being perhaps better accustomed than they thought
for, to that sort of thing, I used to lead 'em on as far as I
thought necessary or convenient—sometimes a long way—and
then turn sharp round, and meet 'em, and say, 'Oh, dear, how
glad I am to come upon you so fortunate! This London's such
a place, I'm blowed if I an't lost again!' And then we'd go
back all together, to the public-house, and—ha, ha, ha! and
smoke our pipes, don't you see?
“They were very attentive to me, I am sure. It was a com-
mon thing, while I was living there, for some of 'em to take me
out, and show me London. They showed me the Prisons-
showed me Newgate—and when they showed me Newgate, I
stops at the place where the Porters pitch their loads, and says,
Oh dear," is this where they hang the men! Oh Lor !!
* That ! they says, “what a simple cove he is! That an't it !
And then they pointed out which was it, and I says, 'Lor !' and
they says, “Now you'll know it agen, won't you?' And I said
I thought I should if I tried hard—and I assure you I kept a
sharp look out for the City Police when we were out in this
way, for if any of 'em had happened to know me, and had spoke
good luck such a thing never happened, and all went on quiet :
though the difficulties I had in communicating with my brother
officers were quite extraordinary.
“The stolen goods that were brought to the public-house, by
the Warehouse Porters, were always disposed of in a back par-
lor. For a long time, I never could get into this parlor, or see
what was done there. As I sat smoking my pipe, like an inno-
cent young chap, by the tap-room fire, I'd hear some of the
parties to the robbery, as they came in and out, say softly to the


220
A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
landlord, 'Who's that? What does he do here ?' 'Bless your
soul,' says the landlord, “ He's only a’— ha, ha, ha!— he's
only a green young fellow from the country, as is looking for a
butcher's sitivation. Don't mind him!' So, in course of time,
they were so convinced of my heing green, and got to be so
accustomed to me, that I was as free of the parlor as any of
'em, and I have seen as much as Seventy Pounds worth of fine
lawn sold there, in one night, that was stolen from a warehouse
in Friday Street. After the sale, the buyers always stood treat
-hot supper, or dinner, or what not—and they'd say on those
occasions Come on, Butcher! Put your best leg foremost,
young 'un, and walk into it! Which I used to do—and hear,
at table, all manner of particulars that it was very important for
us Detectives to know..
“This went on for ten weeks. I lived in the public-house all
the time, and never was out of the Butcher's dress—except in
bed. At last, when I had followed seven of the thieves, and set
'em to rights—that's an expression of ours, don't you see, by
which I mean to say that I traced 'em, and found out where the
robberies were done, and all about 'em-Straw, and Fendall,
and I, gave one another the office, and at a time agreed upon,
a descent was made upon the public-house, and the apprehen-
sions effected. One of the first things the officers did, was to
collar me—for the parties to the robbery weren't to suppose
yet, that I was anything but a Butcher--on which the landlord
cries out, ' Don't take him,' he says, 'whatever you do! He's
only a poor young chap from the country, and butter wouldn't
melt in his mouth! However, they–ha, ha, ha!—they took
me, and pretended to search my bedroom, where nothing was
found but an old fiddle belonging to the landlord, that had got
there somehow or another. But, it entirely changed the land-


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
221
lord's opinion, for when it was produced, he says, “ My fiddle !
The Butcher's a pur-loiner ! I give him into custody for the
robbery of a musical instrument !
“ The man that had stolen the goods in Friday Street was
not taken yet. He had told me, in confidence, that he had his
suspicions there was something wrong (on account of the City
Police having captured one of the party), and that he was going
to make himself scarce. I asked him, “Where do you mean to
go, Mr. Shepherdson ?' 'Why, Butcher,' says he, 'the Setting
Moon, in the Commercial Road, is a snug house, and I shall
hang out there for a time. I shall call myself Simpson, which
appears to me to be a modest sort of a name. Perbaps you 'll
give us a look in, Butcher ?' 'Well,' says I, 'I think I will
give you a call :—which I fully intended, don't you see, because,
of course, he was to be taken ! I went over to the Setting
Moon next day, with a brother officer, and asked at the bar for
Simpson. They pointed out his room up stairs. As we were
going up, he looks down over the banisters, and calls out, ‘Hal-
loa, Butcher ! is that you?' 'Yes, it's me.' 'How do you find
yourself ?! “Bobbish,' he says ; ' but who's that with you ?' It's
only a young man, that's a friend of mine,' I says. "Come
along, then,' says he ; ' any friend of the Butcher's is as wel-
come as the Butcher! So, I made my friend acquainted with
him, and we took him into custody.
“You have no idea, Sir, what a sight it was, in Court, when
they first knew that I wasn't a Butcher, after all! I wasn't
produced at the first examination, when there was a remand ;
but I was at the second. And when I stepped into the box, in
full police uniform, and the whole party saw how they had been
done, actually a groan of horror and dismay proceeded from 'em
in the dock!


224
A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.
“Many months afterwards-near a year afterwards—there
was a Bank in Ireland robbed of seven thousand pounds, by a
person of the name of Doctor Dundey, who escaped to America;
from which country some of the stolen notes came home. He
was supposed to have bought a farm in New Jersey. Under
proper management, that estate could be seized and sold, for
the benefit of the parties he had defrauded. I was sent off to
America for this purpose.
“I landed at Boston. I went on to New York. I found
that he had lately changed New York paper-money for New
Jersey paper-money, and had banked cash in New Brunswick.
To take this Doctor Dundey, it was necessary to entrap him
into the State of New York, which required a deal of artifice
and trouble. At one time, he couldn't be drawn into an appoint-
ment. At another time, he appointed to come to meet me, and
a New York officer, on a pretext I made ; and then his children
had the measles. At last, he came, per steamboat, and I took
him, and lodged him in a New York Prison called the Tombs ;
which I dare say you know, Sir ?"
Editorial acknowledgment to that effect.
“I went to the Tombs, 'on the morning after his capture,
to attend the examination before the magistrate. I was passing
through the magistrate's private room, when, happening to look
round me to take notice of the place, as we generally have a
habit of doing, I clapped my eyes, in one corner, on a~Carpet
Bag.
“What did I see upon that Carpet Bag, if you'll believe me,
but a green parrot on a stand, as large as life!
" That Carpet Bag, with the representation of a green par-
rot on a stand,' said I, “belongs to an English Jew, named
Aaron Mesheck, and to no other mai alive or dead !!


A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY..
225
“I give you my word the New York Police officers were
doubled up with surprise.
“How do you ever come to know that?' said they.
“I think I ought to know that green parrot by this time,'
said I, 'for I have had as pretty a dance after that bird, at
home, as ever I had, in all my life !! "
“ And was it Mesheck’s ?” we submissively inquired.
“Was it, Sir? Of course it was! He was in custody for
another offence, in that very identical Tombs, at that very
identical time. And, more than that! Some memoranda, relat-
ing to the fraud for which I had vainly endeavored to take him,
were found to be, at that moment, lying in that very same
individual—Carpet Bag !”
ability, always sharpening and being improved by practice, and
always adapting itself to every variety of circumstances, and
opposing itself to every new device that perverted ingenuity can
invent, for which this important social branch of the public
service is remarkable! For ever on the watch, with their wits
stretched to the utmost, these officers have, from day to day and
year to year, to set themselves against every novelty of trickery
and dexterity that the combined imaginations of all the lawless
rascals in England can devise, and to keep pace with every such
invention that comes out. In the Courts of Justice, the mate-
rials of thousands of such stories as we have narrated—often
elevated into the marvellous and romantic, by the circumstances
of the case--are dryly compressed into the set phrase, “ in con-
sequence of information I received, I did so and so.” Suspicion
was to be directed, by careful inference and deduction, upon
the right person ; the right person was to be taken, wherever
he had gone, or whatever he was doing to avoid detection : he