The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 131: what you’re looking at

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120 and then you've got the wery identical broad. brimmed tile you was always used to wear. What do you think of this for a masquerading costume P”—and the Burker glanced complacently over his own person. ‘‘T never should have known you,” answered Jack. “But J say, don’t you think the people of the house will think it odd that two such queer- looking chsps—both with spectacles on—should meet in their parlour ?” “Where are you living, Jack?” Barney, hastily. ¢ “Pretty close by,” was the response. “I've got a bit of a lodging, and three or four sorts of disguises 7 “The very ticket !” said the Burker. “Tell us where it is. Then you go off first—I’ll foller in a few minutes—and we'll have a chat about our affairs.” This arrangement was carried into effect; and in something less than half-an-hour the Burker and Jack Smediey wore seated together in a small poorly-furnished back room, belonging to a house in one of the obscure narrow streets leading out of the Commercial Road. “And so you haven’t heard anythink about Bab P” said the Burker, thus resuming the thread of a conversation which was temporarily inter- rupted by the process of mixing some spirits-and- water, the materials for which Jack Smedley had just placed upon the table. ‘“‘ Nothing of her,” answered the last-named in- dividual. “I suppose you know how I gave the detectives the slip eat the station the other day ; and ever since I’vyo been playing at hide-and-seek with them.” “You don’t mean to say they're on your track Pf” demanded the Burker. “T hope not,” responded Jack Smedley, shud- dering violently at tho bere idea. “ But what is it otherwise than playing at hide-and-seek when one is obliged to go aboat in all sorte of disguises P 1’m sure I don’t how it is to end: [’m uncommon tired of this kind of life: but I don’t dare leave London—I think it’s the safest place after all when one’s in trouble.” “No doubt of it!” remarked the Burker. “ But the people of this house P” “Oh! they’re all right enough—or at least I hope so,” rejoined Jack Smedley. ‘I pass as Mr. Wilkins here; and they think I’m a begging- letter impostor or something of that sort. You may very well suppose that I have not taken the trouble to undeceive them.” “I should rayther think not,” replied the Burker. “ As for myself, I’ve just been doing a a little bit of business which renders it that 1 should turn myself inside out and put on a new disguise.” “Well,” responded Jack Smediey, “there is choice enough here for you:” and opening a box he displayed several disguises of different kinds, and each being as unlike all the rest as possible. ‘“* But where have you been living in London P” “I haven’t been living nowhere,” rejoined the Burker: “I only come up to town this morning —and I don’t think my name has yet figured in the Fashionable Arrivals.” “ thet disguise-—that dye for your tenes diag ye y “Oh! it’s too long to tell how I come by it,” inquired THE MYSTERIES OF THE OOURT. interrupted the Burker, “I’ve got some business in hand that will keep me in London for a day or two—perhaps more; and therefore I shall just take the liberty of borrowing one of these here disguises. What the deuce is this?—a Jews gaberdine and a great grey beard——” “‘Yes—wig and all complete,” exclaimed Jack Smedley. “It’s the only dress I have not as yet worn. But hadn’t you better stay and sleep here in my place to-night ” “It won't do, Jack, for two such fellers as you and me to be too much together,” interrupted the Burker. “I shall leave you presently: but we can make an appointment somewhere for to- morrow night—and in the meantime I'll just borrow this drese of your's.” Thus speaking, the Burker proceeded to examine the gaberdine, the wig, and the beard; and he thought to himself that it would be the very best disguise he could possibly assume. “ Where did you buy this!” he asked, thinking it prudent to ascertsin something of that parti- cular disguise’s antecedents if he could succeed in obtaining such information. “TI bought the whole kit which you've got in your hand, at a shop in Rosemary Lane,” replied Jack Smedley. The Burker proceeded to put off his own dis- guise, and he likewise washed the chemical dye from his hands and face. Then, by means of a thick fluid gum which Smedley furnished him, he fastened on the grey beard, which covered all the lower part of his face, and which with its asso- ciated moustache concealed the mal-formation of his lip. He put on the grey wig which formed part of the costume: he hesitated as to resuming the spectacles—but he at length decided on dis- earding them. The gaberdine was one of those long, black, loose, straight-cut upper garments worn by some of those old-fashioned Jows who sell pastiles, eoap, or rhubarb in the streete; and when the Burker had put it on, Jack Smedley expressed his approval of the completeness of the disguise. A low hat, with very large brims, crowned the Burker’s head; and as he gave one of his coarse laughs, he expressed a wish that he had a small wooden tray and a few pastiles, that he might play his new pert to perfection. “ And now, Jack, I’m off,” he added. “ You've lent me a good disguise—and you've got some of my toggery in return. If it was a little colder, I shouldn’t have given you up that handsome black coat of mine. But how about to-morrow night? Where shall we meet ?” After a few minutes’ deliberation, a place was named; and the Barker sallied forth. Returning into Whitechapel, he pursued his way towards Aldgate,—in the vicinage of which he was ac- guainted with a public-house where he knew he could obtain a bed for the night without any questions being asked. But all of a sudden he stopped short; and a deep but terrible imprecation burst from his lips. He had left all his money behind him in the breast-pocket of the coat which he bad taken off at Jack Smedley’s lodging. Yes -—all the money he had reocived from the Duke of Marchmont, and all of which he had so recently plundered Jonathan Carnabie, had been thus left behind! In his breeches-pocket he had bat three or four shillings and a few halfpence. COMME OOO SS} (CO