The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 129: what you’re looking at

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118 THD MYSTERIES OF THD COURT. your own counsel. What did you say your name was, sir?” “ My name is Jonathan Carnabie, at your service, sir,” responded the old sexton. “ And mine, sir, is Mr. John Smith,” rejoined the Burker. “I don’t happen to have a bit of paste-board about me at the moment: bat I shall be werry bappy to see you to dine with me to- morrow at my house, Number 347, Grosvenor Square. No ceremony, you know. Just a bit of fish, a plain jint, a tart, and summuat of —_ sort with maybe a bottle of wine or #0.” Again was Mr. Camabie confounded by the honours and favours thus showered upon him: and again were his acknowledgments duly ex- pressed. He and his companion walked on together, until at length they reached the com- mencement of the street in which Mr. and Mrs. Chubb resided, and which the sexton now reeog- nised as the locality to which he had sought to be directed. “I tell you what,” eaid the Burker, “let you and me be alone together over this glass of brandy- and-water that we're gning to haveat your place: cos why, don’t you see, I don’t know nothink of your jandlord—and it won’t do for a man like me to demean his-self to associate with everybody.” “But Mr. Chubb is a parish clerk!” exclaimed Jonathan; “and I thought you just now sa}d——.”” “All right, my good friend!” interrupted the Burker: “I don’t fly from my word. Parish clerks is the best fellers in existence: but I hsppen to know summut of this man Chubb, now that I come into this street and recollect where he lives.” “Why, is he not a respectable person?” in- quired Mr. Carnabie in astonishment. “Those who recommended me to bis lodgings—or who in- ‘deed took them for me, I should rather say ——”’ “Well, well,” said the Burker, “he’s respect- able enough as far as the world goes. But betwixt you and me and the post,” added Mr. Barnes, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, “there isn’t a burial that takes place in Cbhubb’s churchyard that he don’t make ten or twelve guineas more out of it than he had ought todo. You understand me—a nod is as as a wink—and Chubb is hand and glove with the surgeons.” “God bless me!” ejaculated old Jonathan, stop- ping suddenly short: “do you mean to say that he is in league with the reeurrectionists P” “ Nothink more nor less,” anewered the Burker. “But keep your own counsel. It isn’t for me ta make miechief: I only tell you this to show why I don’t choose exactly to put my feet under the same mahogany with this feller Chubb.” Old Jonathan Carnabie gave a deep groan of horror: but the Burker hastened to speak a few reassuring words; and they continued their way to the front door of Mr. Chubb’s residence. CHAPTER CVIIL CONTINVATION OF THE BUREBE S ADVENTURES. TmaT door was opened by the slipshod servant-girl who was maid-of-all-work in the establishment; and Jonathan Carnabie led the way to the little parlour which he occupied and which was the very same that Christian Ashton tenanted at the time he was private seoretary to that illustrious potentate, the Grand Duke of Maxe-Stolburg- Quotha.. Barney the Burker followed his new ac- quaintance into the parlour: the girl was ordered to bring up glasses and hot water: the brandy was produced; and after having imbibed the con- tents of the firet tambler, Jonathan Carnabie found his spirits expanding after the damp thrown upon them by the terrible aspersion flang against the character of his landlord Mr. Chubb. “You're werry comfortable here—werry com- fortable indeed,” said the Burker, looking around bim. ea,” answered Jonathan, “there is to complain of in respect to the lodgiags. I’ve got a nice little bed-room exzaetly overhead.” “ And I hope you lock your door at night,” said the Barker, in a low voice. “ Not that 1 mean to say the people of the house woald do anythink wrong: but London is a queer place, and thieves is like ghosteses —they insinivates theirselves here, there, and every where.” “Thank you for the hint,” said old Jonathan, refilling hie tambler. “I myself have had a little bit of expereience in respect to the consammate vill ny of a London scoundrel. Did you ever hear of a man called Berney the Burker ?” “I can’t say that I have,” responded the indi- vidual hiteelf, speaking in a slow and measured tone, as if he were racking his memory upon the point. ‘ Who is he ?” “ A murderer—aad everything that is bad,” re- plied Jonathan. ‘“ He came down into the coun- try—I took him as an assistant—the nogratefal wretch was very near murdering me—buat assist- ance came at the very nick of time—the villain fled precipitately, and plunged into thetiver. It was thoaght that he was drowned: but only a few days ago he turned up somewhere in London Surely you must bave heard, Mr. Smith, of a house that was entered by the polices, and where on dig: giog up the cellar or some underground place, evidences were discovered of barbarous murders having been committed P” “To be sure! Now you mention it,” said the Burker, “I do know summaut about it. It was in the papers—weasn't it ?” “Yes,” replied Jonathan ; “and heavy rewards were offered for the discovery of the wretches. I: hope they will be found.” “I hope they will,” added the Burker, as he coolly eet about compounding his third tumbler of puech. “ Well, all them things, Mr. Carnabie,” he continued, “ shows how careful you ought to be in looking your door of nighte and stowing away your cash in a place of safety. I tell you what I do: I always bave a matter of five or six hundred guineas in my house; and I poke it all up the chimley in my bed-room. That’s betwixt you and me: but no one would think of looking up a chimley in search of money.” «J content myself,” answered Jonathan, “ with locking up the little I have got in my box. It isn’t miuch—bat still it’s too mueh to lose.” * Quite right! quite right!” said the Burker : * never throw away a chance.” In this manner they continued to diseourse for Goin G OOO SS} (CO