The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 139: what you’re looking at

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128 ng herself in an appealing manner to her mistress, au if beseeching her to propitiate the wrath of the Prince—for she of course knew who the feigned Mr. Harley was;—* O madam! pray pardon me— but such an ill-looking man has just called—and at the Pall Mall entrance too —~” “An ill-looking man,” repeated Mrs. Brace, becoming deadly pale even through the roseate tinge which art had so delicately shed upon her cheeks—so that this woman, handsome to a degree of splendour, grew ghastly to behold. “ Yes, madam,” was the servant's rapid and er- cited answer. “ And he says he must and will see you—as he has something particular to tell you about that robbery the other night ——-But, gracious goodness! he is coming this way——I hear his heavy footsteps approaching !” “ This is awkward—most awkward!” exclaimed the milliner, collecting all her courage to meet the emergency. “ Your Royal Highress ——” “ Perdition! I may be known—recognised |” ejaculated the Prince, who had started from his seat at the sound of the advancing steps. “ Here! this will be best” he added ;—and in another moment he was concealed behind the ample window-curtain which reached from the ceiling to the floor. Mrs. Brace would have given worlds that the Prince should not have taken this step: but it was too late—the mischief was accomplished in the twinkling of an eye ;—and scarcely had the waving of the curtain subsided, when the Magsman ap- peared upon the threshold of the apartment. Garriet glided past the intruder with terrified looks, and closed the door behind him; while Mrs. Brace sank back in her chair, a perfect pandemonium raging in her bosom. Well, indeed, might the lady’s-maid have de- scribed this formidable visitor as “an ill-looking man ;"—for, although it was Sunday, he had not bestowed the slightest pains upon his toilette. His zarments were coarse, shabby, and negligent as usual: his coal-black hair was as rough, and his whiskers were as bushy and fierce as ever ;—and his eyes gleamed with a sinister expression that was habitual to them, from beneath the coarse, shaggy, overhanging brows. He kept his hat upon nis head as he entered the room; and he carried in his hand a huge stick, or rather club, by means of which his powerful arm might have felled an ox at one blow. For a few moments Mrs. Brace was overwhelmed by his presence. But suddenly a thought struck her; and, starting from her seat, she said in a low and hurried tone, “ Follow me into another room— I expect company h2re every minute.” " Well, then—the company may wait till you and me have done the little business that has brought me here this évening,” replied the Mags- man. “ The place looks so comfortable,” he added, taking a calm and deliberate survey of the beauti- faliy-furnished parlour, “ that I prefer staying here. Besides, there's a capital fire—and the weather's deuced cold, I can tell you.” Thus the Magsman took the chair which the Prince had quitted only a few minutes previously; and Mrs. Brace resumed her seat, pushing it back however to a greater distance (rom the formidable ruffian who had placed himself oO near Dor. “ What! do vou think I carry a pestilence about a en, THE MYSTERIXG. a A aaa aaa acca __ aaa eee) with me 2?” exclaimed the Magsman, offendod at this movement, “ But no matter: we won't guarre: about trifles. I dare say I'm not quite so gocc- looking as when——” “For heaven's sake { tell me what you require —what you want,” interrupted Mrs. Brace, m a tone of feverish excitement. “ Money,” responded the villain, with coarse abruptness. “I sent you five hundred guineas the other day, according to agreement,” exclaimed the wretched woman; “ and it was an un ilerstandiog between us that you would trouble me no more.” “ Never mind the understanding,” said the Mags- man. “ Half of the blunt went to my pal, tha Big Beggarman, who was with me here tother night— and as I've an unfortunate itch for gambling, I've lost all my share. So J thought I would jast drop in this evening, to inquire after your dear health and request a farther supply.” “ How much do you require ?” gasped Mrs. Brace, in a faint tone—while all the anguish which this interview excited in her soul was betiayed in the workings of her countenance, hard though she struggled to conceal her emotions. “ Another five handred will answer the purpose —at least for the present,” returned the Magsman, with the tone and air of one who felt that he had the power, if not the right, to command. “For the present!” repeated Mra. Brace, almost starting from her seat. “Then am I to expect pe- riodical visits from you?” she demanded, in a voice which she vainly endeavoured to render firm and even defiant. ; . “ Weli—we shall see about all that, my dear,” said the Magsman. “You wouldn't surely be so cruel as to refuse your own——” “Silence !” almost shrieked the wyetched woman. “The money shall be sent to you to-morrow,” she added, her tone suddenly changing and sinking tos hoarse whisper. “ Now you will have the kindness to leave me ?” “What! you don’t so much as ask me to wash mj mouth out with a drop of something short!” ex- claimed the ruffian. “ But I see how it is. You look upon me as a low fellow—a vulgarian—the scum of the earth,—while you're a fine lady, pranked out in silks and satins—living in a beautiful house— enjoying every comfort——” “In the name of God! let us terminate this in- terview at once,” interrupted the milliner, fixing a look of earnest appeal upon her terrible companion. “You can come to-morrow night yourself to fetch the money, if you choose—and then we will have some conversation together. But this evening——" “You expect company—eh ?” said the Mageman. “Well—I don’t think I'm exactly in full costume,” he added, surveying his ruffian-like attire with a de- liberate coolness which left room to believe that he had still some doubts upon the subject. “But really you're not treating me well, my dear: for after so long a separation—it must be a matter of fifteen o1 sixteen years——” “Oh! pray—pray leave me now—I beseech—] implore you!” exclaimed the milliner, her voice absolutely expressing a rending agony ;—and she joined her white hands appealingly as she thus spoke. a By jingo! this amounts to a positive insult? gtowled the Magsman, not offering to budge from GORMGOOOKXS co