The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 25: what you’re looking at

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-_? 18 3a ——— scarcely believe his eyes—could scarcely credit his own senses. as it possible that she was there—there, in his presence—there, in his power? It avpeared to be a dream; and amomentary dizziness seized upon him. “Give me the Bible,” said the Jewess, taking the chair; “and do you draw near me.” “Tere is the book,” observed Old Death, in a deep tone which might well be mistaken for the sign of solemn feelings, and was indeed so interpreted. The lady placed the sacred volume upon the table before her, and began to turn over its leaves in order to find the passage which she deemed most appro- priate and suitable for the circumstances of the occa- sion. Having discovered the chapter which she sought, she raised her eyes towards Old Death’s countenance in order to assure herself that he was in readiness for her to begin; but a sudden sensation of horror and apprehension seized upon her, as she caught a glimpse of the diabolical expression of those features on which tho pale light of the flickering lamp fell with sinister effect. Then, with a howl of ferocious rage, that old man, whom the deep craving after a bloody vengeance now rendered as strong as a giant,—that old man precipi- tated himself upon the terrified Jewess with all the fury of a ravenous monster. The chair broke down beneath the shock; and with dreadful shricks and appalling screams, the Hebrew Indy fell upon the dungeon-floor, held tight in the grasp of the miscreant, who was uppermost. In another instant those shrieks and screams yielded to subdued moans; for his fingers had fixed themselves round her throat like an iron vice. Desperate—despe- rate were her struggles,—the struggles of the agony of death: but Benjamin Bones seemed to gather energy and force from the nicre fact of this strong resistance ;— and as his grasp tightened round his victim's neck, low but savage growls escaped his lips, By degrees the struggling grew less violent—and a gurgling sound succecded the moans of the Jewish Jady. ‘Tighter—nand more tightly still were pressed the demon’s fingers, until his long nails entered her soft and palpitating flesh, Oh! it was horrible— horrible,—this scene of ruthless murder in that sub- terranean dungeon! At length the movements of the victim became mere convulsive spasms: but her large dark eyes, now unnaturally brilliant, glared up at Old Death, fixedly and appallingly. Nevertheless, he was not terrificd—he was not stricken with remorse! No— still, still he clung to his victim, his own eyes looking down ferociously into her's, and the workings of his countenance displaying a fiend-like triumph—a savage glory in the awful deed which he was perpe- trating. Nearly five minutes had elapsed from the instant when the murderer first sprang upon the unfortunate Jewess: and now, suddenly starting to his fect, he seized the lamp and dashed it upon her head. A low moan escaped her—and all was silent. Yes—all was silent, and all was darkness too; for the light had been extinguished:—and Old Death precipitated himself from the dungeon. He hurried along the subterranean, which he knew so well,—hurried along towards the spiral stair-case, wondering whether he should be cnabled to effect his escape, yet almost reckless and desperate as to what might become of him, now that lus savage vengeance was accomplishea. He ascended the stone steps—he entered the room rp A DL A A THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. Ts Oe ed which had for years and years served him as a bed- chamber, before he had been compelled to dispose of the house to Lord Etlingham. He passed into the la- boratory: and as yet he had proceeded without in- terruption. Joy! joy! he should escape yet—the ad- Joining room, now fitted up asa handsome parlour, was likewise untenanted at the moment:—joy! joy! he is descending the stair-case leading to the hall! Is it possible that he will escape? Fortune seems to favour the diabolical murderer; and his hand is now upon the latch of the front-door—he stands as it were once more upon the threshold of that great world which is so wide and has so many channels for the machinations of the wicked! The house seems de- serted—not a questioning voice falls upon his car,— not the step of a human foot, save his own, interrupts the silence of the place! Yes—it appears as if escape be now a certainty,—escape for him who dared not hope for it, and did not even think of it, when intent on the all-absorbing scheme of his vengeance! And now the front-door opens to his touch: but— ah! he has blood upon his hands—the blood that had flowed from the neck of the murdered Jewess. He starts back—he hesitates for a moment,—but only for a moment: Old Death is not the man to remain long uncertain how to proceed in such a strait! Thrusting his hands—his gore-stained hands—into his pockets, the demon-hearted monster issues ns coolly and calmly from the house as if it were his own and he had nothing to fear. The fresh air of heaven—u.- tasted by him for ten long weeks—comes gushing upon his face: he is free—he is free! “Ah!” is the hasty ejaculation which now falls on his ear: he looks around—a man is bounding, flying towards him ;—and in another instant he is in the grasp of the Blackamoor, A short and desperate struggle takes place; and a crowd immediately gathers near—for the Sessions are being held at Hicks’s Hall, on Clerkenwell Green, so that the neighbourhood presents the bustling appear- ance usual on such occasions, “Scize him—hold him!” yells forth Old Death, a3 his powerful opponent hurls him towards the house- door, which the miscreant had not closed behind him. “ We is amad-man—escaped from a lunatic asylum !” exclaimed the Blackamoor, horrible apprehensions filling his soul relative to the Jewess—for his eves had caught sight of the blood upon Old Death’s hands, “« No—no—I am not a mad-man!” shricked out the latter. “Scize him—hold him, I say:—he has es eaped the scafiold—he is Tom Rat, the highuave mans” / At that dreadful announcement the Blackamoor was struck speechless and motionless, as if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet; and in the next instant he was in the grasp of Dykes and Bingham, who, having bu- siness at the Sessions House, happened to be amonest the crowd gathered at the entrance of Red Lion Street. “Yes—seize him—hold him tight!" yelled Benja- min Bones: “he is Tom Rain, I tell you—his face is coloured purposely—but I know that he is Tom tain!” “And hold that misereant also!” ejaculated Rain- ford—for he indeed the Blackamoor was: “seize him —let bim not escape!” he cried, recovering the power of specch, as his eyes again caught a glimpse of the blood-stained hands of Old Death. “There has beon murder committed in this house——My God! my God!” F ¢ (SO) GIOOKS (SO)