The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 185: what you’re looking at

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174 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. himeelf he was about to enjoy. Thus, slowly and jingo, Vil do for you!—lI'll cook your gouse in 4 gradually did he prosecute his work, in a methodical , jiffey !” manner, until the last fold of the wrapper was cut through, and the whole of the baise fell away from the lid of the box! * Dear me!” ejaculated Mr. Fossilton: and he peered in mingled estonishment and dismay over the object which now met his view. “This is very strange |—very strange indeed! Why—how—what aeh P”” It certainly did not look likeamummy. The dress was white; there was a sort of turban on the head—the complexion of the individual was quite dark —there was a moustache upon the lip. Surely this was no mummy? And yet what else could it be? The eyelide were closed :—-motionless as the dead lay the Burker! Mr. Fossilton stooped lower down, and looked closer and closer into the case—or rather, we should say, through the glass lid. If this were a mummy it was the most extraordinary one, as well as the freshest, he Sad ever seen. Had Bealby de. ceived himP No: this was scarcely possible ; be- cause he had given him back his money—he had left himeelf at his merey in respect to payment — everything seemed quite honourable, straightfor- ward, and proper on that individual’s part. Ah! a sudden thought etruck Mr. Fossiiton. Mr, Bealby had prepared for him a great surprise ! How kind of Bealby !—how good of him! Doubt- less it was some wondrous novelty in the sphere of what we may term Mummyism, which through the agency of that same excellent Mr. Bealby had now fgllen into bis bands! Enraptured with the thought, Mer. Fossilton opened the glass case, and was in the act of stretching forward his hand to touch the countenance of the supposed mummy,— ‘when the Burker suddenly opened his eyes and raised himself up to a sitting posture ! It was not exactly terror which seized upon Mr. Fossilton: i¢ wasa general stupefaction—a para- lysis of the senses, whioh, without absolutely do- priving bim of his consciousness, made bim sink down upon a seat and gaze through bis green spectacles, as weil as open-mouthed, upon this ex- traordinary proceeding. * Don’t be afeard, old genelman: I ain’t agoing to eat you,” said the Burker, as he now endea- voured to rise up completely from the interior of the case: but the task was a difficult one, his limbs being horribly cramped. ‘Well, I’m blowed if this here ain't pleasant—cuss it !” Mr. Fosailton groaned—but did not move one hair’s-breadth more than if hoe had been a veritable atatue, or one of his own petrifactions placed in that chair. “ Weil, I’m sniggered if this ain’t a pretty job I” continued the Burker, growling savagely: “to get one’s lege as palsied as if they was frosen— blow me, it beata the gallows—beats it hollow!” Hore Mr. Fossilton, abruptly seized with the terrifying effect of a complete and atter revulsion of feelings, sprang from his seat and darted towards the door. The sense of sudden and frightful danger to which he thus became exposed, acted like gal- vanism upon the Burker; and rushing after the archmulogist, he grasped him violently by the arm. “ Hold your tongue !—don’t cry out—don’t say a single word!” growled the Burker: “or by CO LT «tm ms hh | TT Ss ee cE el lip Ep si = PE GP a SS lt yy ce A pr TS 5 s+ ST Thus speaking, he at the same instant snatched up an old rusty sword which lay upon a shelf close at hand, and which was supposed to have been the one wielded by Edward the First at the Battle of Falkirk :—or at least, such was the assurance given some time ago by Mr. Bealby when he sold the curious weapon to its present owner. “ What would you do, unbappy man?” asked Fossilton, trembling with mingled alarm and horror. “ You would not murder me? No—npo — you—you—you—would not mur—ur—ur—der me P” “No, not if you keep quiet!” responded the Burker. “I’m as innocent as a young Igmbkin which skips in the fields when folks let me alone.”’ ‘* But who are you? what does all this mean?” asked the bewildered Foasilton. “ You are dressed like a Lascar—but you speak English —if not ex- actly with the purity of Bunyan's atyle, at all events with a certain facility “ Leave Corn and Bunion to theirselves,” said the Burker: “and now just listen to me. There! you'd better sit down again, sir —you're all over in a tremble and guiver—and shivery shakey like— comp, sit down, I say—d'ye hear? It’s no use your keeping near this door.” “Well, well—what do you wantP who aro you? and what does all this mean?” inquired the archa. ologist, whose mingled bewilderment, terror and dismay defy all power of description. “ Now there's no use in shuffling about with the question,” said the miscreant: aod planting him- self opposite the miserable archw logist, who had again sank down into a chair, he added in a cool independent manner, “1 suppuse you've heerd tell of one Mr. Barnes, better knowd as the Bur- ker P’” “ Good heavens! the murderer P” ejaculated Fossiltou faintly. “ Well—you may oall him ¢iaf if you like,” proceeded the ruffian : “but here ho stands ja his own precious identity afore you. Not another word, old genelmag !—dare to cry out, and | split your head open! There now ! be quiet, like a good old man—and no harm will bappeo. I'm going to take my leave of you in a few minutes ; and [ don’t think the parting will be werry dis- tressiog for either of us.” Mr. Fossilton looked as if he entertained pro- cisely the same view, and as if the spsedicr the separation took place, the better he should be pleased. ““Now you see, my fine old feller,” continued Barnes, “it won't do for you to say a single word about this here business: ’cos why, if you gives information, and if I’m took on account of it, [ shall werry coolly say that you was in the trick with Bealby to get me out of my trouble, but that you arterwards turned rouod upon me, ’cos why I didn’t come up to the mark inthecash department.” * Good heavens! what a distressing position for a man like me to be placed in!” moaned tho mise- rable archmoulogist, giving way to his lamentations, “ Miserable position {| miserablo, miserable !” ‘Nota bit on’t!” repliod the Burker. ‘* All you've got to do is to hold your tungue—and no- body will be the wisor.” Goin G OOO SS} (CO