Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

7 -— . — . a i SPRING-HEEL'D JACK: “Then Dll just go home,’’ said a man who had been listening to all that had passed, ‘for if my old woman was to see him she’d about go into fits. I hope he’ll soon be collared, for I feel half afraid to go out into my back garden after dark.” : “You wouldn’t do for the police,’ said the officer, contemptuously. ‘Perhaps T’ve got as much pluck in me as other people,” said the individual thus con- temptuously addressed. ‘‘ Yes, quite as much when the time comes for it to be wanted.” ‘“Humph!” said the man in the cloak, “ I must be going, Now, landlord, what’s to pay ?”’ The host having reckoned up, the stranger flung a sovereign down on the bar, and received his change. ‘* By-the-bye,” he said, turning suddenly to the officer, ‘‘ you did not accept the wager, did you ?” * What wager?” . that Spring-heeled Jack would not be on your beat to-night.” ‘““T took your word for that, sir; so it ain’t worth betting on.” “No more it ain't. But, come; I'll make you a ket that he will appear before you in less than an hour, and that not only will you not take him, but that you'll start back in terror.” “Til take you; and wish it was for fifty pound,” said the policeman. ‘ Frightenme! [ should like to see him doit! Let him but come within reach of me, and I'll make him my priso- ner before he knows where he is.” The man dropped a coin on to the floor, and stooped as if to pickeit up, but as he did so he thrust a hideous mask over his face. Then springing up, and turning to the officer, at the same time flinging back the large folds of his cloak, and revealing its white lining, he ex- claimed— “ Boaster ! I am Spring-heeled Jack !” With a ery of terror the officer sprang back- wards on to the steps which led up to the house. “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Jack. “ Follow me if you can—take me if you dare !” With a terrific bound he sprang up and over the head of the officer right into the centre of the roudway. ere he paused, and gave vent to a loud laugh, then bounded back again to the oilicer’s side. “Why don’t you do your duty ?” he exclaimed, leaping on to the policeman’s shoulders and forcing his-hat over his eyes. Then with another laugh he bounded across the road as the men who had partaken of his treat rushed from the house towards him. *¢ T’ll have a shy for him,” exclaimed the man who had made no secret of his nervousness. “Come on, my friend,” cried Jack. “ You are what I thought, after all—the bravest of the lot.’’ The man ran towards him, and even succeeded in catching hold of his cloak. But he was unable to retain it, for with a spring Jack bounded away over a hedge into the field beyond, and was lost to view, while in the centre of the road stood the officer, his battered hat in one hand, shouting at the top of his voice, till those who had been with him at the bar were out of sight, and he was left alone. _——]——$—<$<—<—_—_—=§_s ——— ——— rs rrr - » Don’t let him get away! THE TERROR OF LONDON. 3 we a EE EE Ee eee eee f “Stop him !—stop him! Don’t be frightened: Stop him !—stop him !” | ‘““That’s your duty, my friend; but you are such a coward,” exclaimed a voice behind him. The officer turned, uttered a ery, and fled at the top of his speed, whilst the loud laughter of Spring-heeled Jack rang out on the night ai. CHAPTER IIL, THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND.—THE FIGURE AT THE WINDOW.—THE SCOUNDREL AND HIS VICTIM.— A FRIEND IN NEED.—THE LEAP.—THE SHOT, ~ Iv was about eleven o’clock, and silence reigned in almost every street. Here and there a light, streaming with subdued lustre through the drawn blind out into the roadway, bespoke the fact that the inhabitants had not yet retired to rest, but these were few and far between. The generality of the oceupiers of the houses in the neighbour- hood of Islington had closed their eyes in slumber, and darkness reigned throughout their dwellings. In a turning out of the Liverpool-road a faint light flickered in the front garret of a small house. The blind was down over the window, and on this every now and then appeared the shadow of a female as she stood between the window and the light, which rested ona small table in the centre of the room. | It could plainly be seen from the street that she was in grief, for the shadow wrung its hands, then extended them clasped together in a sup- plicating attitude to some person on the opposite side of the room. | Then it would pass hurriedly to and fro across the blind as the female paced the narrow limits of the chamber, | This had been going on a few minutes, when a tall, dark figure, springing out from a doorway, stood on the edge of the pavement opposite to the house in question, and gazed up intently on the blind. t hx “Humph!” he muttered. ‘“ There’s some- thing going on there which I should much like to understand—something, perhaps, which my presence might greatly tend to settle to the benefit of the woman, whoever she may be, whio seems in great grief. Muybeit’s only adomestic quarrel. Husband come home drunk ;—but, no; the attitudes of that woman are rather those of supplication than anger. Ihave frightened not a few lately, and now who knows but I might save one from some ill or other? However, be what it may, it will provide food for my adven- turous spirit. If I can’t do no,good, I at least may give them a fright, for there is more than. one in that room, unless the figure whose shadow now rests on the blind is some half-mad ereature amusing herself by her strange antics.” He strolled across the road and examined the house narrowly. There was a small fore-court, the sides of which were bounded by a brick wall. Taking a spring, he alighted on this as easily as if it had only been a foot high, aud then, olice more minutely inspecting the house, he took off his cloak, and, turning it, appeared enveloped in a white garment. = — — sw