Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

a SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: He suffered the letter to fall at his feet, and seizing the razor quickly from the drawers, he stropped it upon the palm of his hand. As he did so, the severe expression of his face relaxed, the look of agony vanished, and one of peace and serenity usurped its place. “Jf she have spoken true—zf she have not deceived me—zf she has sacrificed hononr and fame for my sake—she cannot survive the loss, and must die. We meet nomore onearth. No! but we will in heaven! Ay, we will meet there. Jane, | come—I haste! Oh, God! forgive me. I come !” He closed his eyes, and raised the weapon to his throat with a smile upon his face. Then he hesitated for a moment. His hand trembled, but still he was fixed in his purpose. . _ He looked around the room. It was the last look he was to take upon that once happy home. ““ Why do I hesitate?” he muttered ; “ why do I pause? I will delay no longer. Jane, I come—lI come!” ‘He pressed the keen blade to his throat. He drew it along with a sudden jerk, and the erimson fluid gushed forth in a stream, and dyed his shirt and vest. The razor fell from his hand, he reeled for a moment like a drunken man, and then fell back- wards to the floor. CHAPTER XXXII. THE ESCAPE FROM THE VAULT—THE CAPTURE— THE BRIBE AND THE LOSS. THe terror-stricken Richard Clavering had fainted. . ) The strain upon the nerves of the suilty man had been too much for him longer to bear, and the horrors of his situation were for a time for- gotten in insensibility. But for a short time only did he remain un- conscious of his true position. Reason, which appeared tottering from its throne, returned, and once more all the horrors of his situation pressed upon his brain. He shuddered as the cold, clamy perspiration oozed from every pore of his skin, and the dark, damp vault struck a chill to his very soul. When insensibility stole over him, he fell, striking his head rather heavily, and his temples throbbed violently under the effect of the blow. He clasped his brow in his hand and strove to penetrate the darkness around him, moving forward as he did so. Suddenly a faint streak of light met his gaze. He uttered a loud cry of joy and sprang to- wards the aperture, through which Jack had passed out of the vault. In another moment he stood in the open air, outside the sacred edifice. Oh! what a sigh of relief broke from his chest ! How wildly his heart throbbed as he gazed upon the outer walls of the building! How fervently he clasped his hands together, and muttered— “Thank God—oh, thank God! I am out of that fearful place.” THE TERROR OF LONDON, 91 sae He turned to flee from the spot, when he re- collected that he had no hat on. - That had been left by him in the vestry. “JY dare not return for it,’ he muttered, ‘and yet to leave it there will be certain ruin. What’s to be done ?” He cared nothing for the loss, so far as re- carded its value, but he remembered that his name was marked on its lining. This was a fresh shock. His sudden joy at his escape was damped again by the fear of his having been in that edifice traced’ out by means of the hat. : One moment he was prompted to enter the little church by the window, procure the hat, and flee at once, without attempting to again tamper with the register. But then the dread of encountering that horri- ble spectre, of being again forced into the vault with the festering remains of humanity was too, much for his courage, and he resolved to leave the hat where he had left it, and trust to Pro- vidence to shield him from discovery. “ And if they should trace it to me,” he said, “what of that? I have not stolen anything. They can’t say I have done that.” 5. True, they could not, but he was none the less suilty. His inclination led him to commit the theft, and defile that register which his terror alone had saved from his polluting grasp. Still he felt ill at ease as he made his way out of the churchyard into the street. | As he turned round the little edifice he uttered a cry of fear. me te The officer stood before him. - It was the same from whom Jack had escaped a short time before. | | The man had seareely recovered the shock to his feelings when he was surprised by perceiving a second form in tne vicinity of the church. At first he thought, as Richard’s back was towards him, that it was another denizen of the other world, but as he half turned, and the policeman perceived a human face, he drew back and watched the libertine’s movements. “ That’s no ghost or skeleton,” he muttered, “and [ ain’t afraid of him. 1 wonder what he’s up to? I'll wager he don’t get out of my clutches in a hurry.” And so drawing still further back into the shade of the wall, he kept a sharp look out, without being seen by the object of his curiosity. As Richard confronted him, all the libertine’s strength vanished, and he stood trembling and powerless before the officer. | “ Well, my fine fellow,” said the man, “what | are you after here, eh?’ : Clavering felt that he must say something, and he replied— : “ Looking at the church.” “ Humph !” said the policeman. me to believe that, don’t you ?” “ Yes—no—that is, you can if you like,” stam- mered Richard. “ T don’t like.” “T can’t help it if you don’t,” said the liber- tine, trying to put on a show of courage. ‘ Hark, here, my fine fellow, I’d like to know the game you're after,” said the officer, sharply. “ The game 2?” said Clavering, “Vou want | Re] SKOXs, tii