The Mysteries of the Court of London Vol. 4 — page 231: what you’re looking at

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

Qh cn es es - AE cous SS EE oF ee oe er ae _— a a a a = RSS PN ce a — ee > Ser eee eee eee ee — ee EE A ee el SS SS Ay SE wpe - Yr THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 218 when he received a shortand almost brutal answer, and then observed that the turnkey’s countenance was very fur from wearing an encouraging ex- pression, his heart suddenly sank within him, and the words he would have uttered initiatory of the eherished plan, died upon his lips. « Nuw then, sir, if you choose to he shgved,” said the turukey, “the barber is going his raqund, and he shall come to you.” Emmerson was about to answer in the negative; fer why should he—a doomed man, and with spirits so suddenly damped into utter hopelessness— trouble himself any more in this life about his per- sonal appearance? But just at th> very instaat that this negative response was about to fall from his tongue, it suddenly struck him that perhaps the barber might appear more complaisant and wear amore hopeful cogntenance than the turn- key. He accordingly said “Yes:” and in a few minutes the barber wag jutroduced. When Emmersen found himself alone with this fudividual, in the condemned cell where they were leit together by the turukey, he surveyed him not merely with attentiou, but with an earnest scrutiny. He saw, then, before him a man of about six or sevet-aud-twenty—thin, pale, and with the marks of dissipation on his featurea: there wat also a certain sinister expression on that countenance, which seemed actually encouraging to the purpose Enunerson had in view. As for the barber him- seli, he of conrse saw that he was the object of this survey, but did not appear to take any special notice of it—doubtiess fancying that it might arise fraw the morbid mood or disturbed humour of a wretvhed being condemued to death. “Sv you are the prison-barber?” said Emmer- son, with his eyes stil! rivetted on the man. “1 an, sir—just for the present,” was the reply; “the regular one being ill,” “Ah! then you are not the regular one?” said Examerson, inguringly. “How long have you acted in this cagycity within these walls?” “ About six we: ks,” was the man’s answer, as he prepared hr shaviyg-tackle. “And are you likely to continue visiting the prison much longer?” , “Well, I should say Lam, sir: for the regular bai ber don’t seem to be getting well.” “In that case, then, yuu must come and shave m>,” said Emmerson, “every morniug uutil -—~ ” Aud he stopped suddenly short, as a man pauses in horror upon the brink of a precipice which he buddenly reaches, ‘ “| shall be very happy, sir, was the barber's ob- Servation; “and Lam sure I am very sorry tu see 4 Kentleman of your standing in such——” “EKoough!” said Emmerson, not sternly, but couvulsively with horror, “ What is your name ?” he ‘lemapded quickly. *Michard Melmoth—Dick they call me, sir. But J anrvt a master-barber on my own account: I live with Mr, Coilu, who ———” (And then he also stopped short in sudden con- foviow: fur he instantaneously perceived that he had just mentioned a name which might be al- ready tuo well known to the doomed man. “ Coffin!” echoed the latter with another strong shudder convulsing him from head to foot as he pat in his chair, so that the very chaius clanked upon his legs with the powerful writhing of his 2! eee ee oe limbs: “is zgt he the——the——You know what I mean ?” " “Well, he ée, sir,” responded Dick Melmoth: ‘hut lam sure J beg pardon for having hinted at anything unpleasant.” «No matter—no matter, my good fellow,” said E.wymerson, with the quickness of nervous excite- ment. “ Your master, Coffia ——Y'ou said he was your master, I think?” “Yes, sir, Dan’el Coffin is my master, and a tidy sort of a person he is, notwithstanding his name lan’t a very good one.” “Ahi no matter the name,” iaterrupted Em- merson, catching greedily at what he saw encour- aging in Dick Melmoth’s ‘remark. You say that your master. Daniel Coffin, is a good kind ofaman? Well, and if I mistake not, you alsu are a good kind of a person. You would rather do a fellow-qreature a service than an injury ?—— Yes—yes—I know you would-——I read it iu your countenance. Egpecially,” added Emmersen, his voice sinking to a low whisper and his lool assuming an expression of deep aud excited meaning—" if you were to be well paid for any such service ren- dered ?”" Dick Melmoth now regarded the doomed man with mingled astonishment and mistrust: for it struck him, that the awful sense of his position might have touched his brain. Buf perceiving naught indicative of meutal alienation in his look, Melmoth assumed 4 cutning air, and whispered, “There's nothing that Dan’el Coffin would not do for money.” «Tell him, then—tell him,” said Emmerson, with feverish cagerness, “ that I will give him five hun- dred guineag—yes--five haudred good golden guineas if he wiil assist me to escape from th's dreadful place !” “Ah! have you really that hope, then?” said Dick Melmoth. “Hope! Yes—to be sure [£ have hope!” re- turned Emmerson sharply. “It is impossible I can die so soon! No—no—it is impossible! Consider, five hundred guineas—and if that is not enough But it is a large sum —a very large sum—and a great deal can be done with it. Tell Mr. Coffin all that I say.” ¢ Well, sir, J will—and to-morrow morning when I come in I will let you kuow what his answer js. But you had better let me shave you now as soon as possible; for the turnkey will be coming back in a ramute “to let me out of the cell, atid he will think it odd ifI have not even beguiu to put the brush to your face.” Emmerson accordingly submitted himself to the process of shaving; a:id by the time it waa over, the turnkey made his appcarance to let the barber out. , As hour after hour now passed away, Emmer- son continued to yield himself up to the wildest hopes: and yet his exterior was composed and tranquil as he sat in the solitude of hia cell giviug way to these sanguine visions, He resembled .he Teriaki, or orient 1| opium-eater, who without mov- ing from his seat, aud with an unruffled and uu- varying equanimity of countenance, launches him- self ou the sunny ocean of his excited imaginings —visits in fancy the*nos, delicious climates of the world—revels in every joy—partakes in every plea- sure—aud got merely forgets every source of Cf Gee (Ear cere, TT TT A SE a GE SE TT Ne ee ee a a a a CS a a ES SE TS a SS LT Ai ceesunassy ach ECOMNIE OG () cS) CO