Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

Sn accents gg Ree SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: THE TERROR OF LONDON. “Don’t you think, sir, you'll get into trouble for this. He'll swear he is not mad, and ”—— “They won't believe him,” interrupted Jack. “ We will assert that he has attempted to destroy his life by drowning, which his saturated cloth- ing will establish, and his rage at the treatment he has met with will but confirm our assertions. I wish to punish him for his greed, and a night in the infirmary will perhaps make the grasping old rascal a better man.” “OF course, sir, it’s nothing to do with me; I’m paid for the job, and I’ve no right to say only what you tell me.” “Of course not. Hallo! there’s the door open.” Poor Levy, who heard every word, but who| was unable to speak or attempt to escape owing to his gag and bonds, almost fainted with excess of rage and terror, and commenced to kick and plunge furiously as the master and porter of the workhouse made their way to the door of the coach. “What's this,” said the master, a portly red- nosed gentleman, and who among the paupers must have madea strange contrast ; “ what have we here—a case for the insane ward ?” “The poor gentleman is mad, sir,” said Jack. “Already has he made several attempts to destroy himself. But a ‘short time since he nearly effected his object, and was only dragged out of a large cistern when life was almost extinct. See, his clothes are soaking, and this poor man’s vehicle partially destroyed. A sad case, sir—a very sad case of insanity.”’ Levy struggled so hard to speak that a noise resembling a hideous groan penetrated the gag, and he kicked and plunged so violently that the master retreated back a pace from the vehicle, exclaiming, “ He’s raving mad ; call up the doctor! Send _ two or three stout fellows here to carry him into the house. How he kicks! he’ll break the coach to pieces. Be sharp, Dickson—be sharp. Mad! T never saw a fellow so mad in all mylife. Who is he, sir ?” “A wealthy Israelite, of the name of Levy,” replied Jack. “‘ At times he believes himself to be a shopkeeper, and raves about being robbed by his workpeople, but of course that is only the workings of his diseased brain. Oh, here are your men. We will get him into the house, if you please. His violence will damage this poor man’s vehicle.” Two stout paupers and the porter approached the vehicle. “ Tift him out, Dickson,” said the master,” and you chaps secure his legs.” Levy was pounced upon, and dragged from the vehicle on to the footpath, where he was raised by his legs and arms, and hurried into the hall of the house. . “Stop here till I come out,” said Jack, addressing the driver. “ All right, sir.” Jack sprang into the hall, and the door was closed behind him. The struggles of Levy now became of the most desperate character, and it was as much as the two men could do to hold his legs. The kerchief, too, worked from over his mouth, and he screamed and yelled with all the strength of his lungs. “Where’s the doctor ?” cried the master. “Here, sir—here,’ exclaimed a voice, and a young man strode up to his side. “‘ Your services are required here, sir,” said the master. ‘“Humph! Come for the insane ward ?” said the doctor. ‘I fear so, sir,” said Jack ; “there can be no doubt as to his being mad.” “Mad! None in the least, sir; none in the least,” replied the doctor. ““1l'm not mad,” roared Levy. I’m not mad.” “Poor fellow,” said Jack. “Mad people always assert they are sane,” said the master. “ Always,” said Jack. “ How long has he been in this state?” asked the doctor. Jack appeared to consider. ‘Let me see. Off and on for some time now, but never so violent as this. “I tell you ’m not mad—I’m a sane man. My name’s Levy. I live in Whitechapel. Send for Rachel! Oh, send for Rachel!” “What Rachel does he mean?” asked the doctor, turning to our hero. “‘ Bless your soul, sir, he’ll ask for Moses next, perhaps.” *“ Rachel’s my wife,” yelled the Jew. “I’m not mad. This is all a plot of that scoundrel, Spring-heeled Jack. Him—him—him !”’ And the Jew nodded his head towards our hero, who shook his head with a sad and com- miserating look. ““Spring-heeled Jack,” said the doctor ; “‘ has he ever been frightened by that personage, do you know ? ” ‘ “1 think he has upon one occasion,-for at times he believes every person who approaches him is Spring-heeled Jack.” “No doubt, no doubt; take him up to the insane ward. A straight-jacket shall be put on him, and his head shaved.” “Oh! Father Abraham !” shrieked Levy. “Tt would perhaps be the best thing that could be done; the heated brain would be cooled thereby.” “Greatly, greatly,’ said the doctor; ‘‘ we always shave the head in cases like this.” “And place a blister at the back of the neck, do you not, sir ?’’ asked Jack. “* Yes.” “And apply mustard poultices to the calves of the legs, with ice-bags to the temples ?”’ Such is the treatment I may find it necessary. to adopt. But of this you may rest assured, sir, that everything shall be done for your friend which is necessary.” | “Oh! oh! oh!” groaned Levy, completely overpowered with the agony of Sgt and suffering himself to be carried up a broad flight of steps to a long apartment known as the insane ward. Into this he was carried by the|three men, followed by the doctor, Jack, and the master of the workhouse, and flung on to a bed, and held there firmly by the paupers. “Tt’s a lie! aan, ETON NN C1 OOO Sa) 165