The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

60 — eect ane ing upon the bridge to contemplate the loathsome scene, but to catch any sounds that might emanate from the nearest house on his left hand. Nor was he disappointed in his expectations: for presently the din of uproarious mirth came vibrating upon his cars ; and then, after a temporary lull of a few minutes, a voice was heard singing some flash song. * Ah! the birds are all there,” muttered the knife- grinder to himself. “I wasn’t out in my calcalation.” With this reflection, he retraced his way off the bridge—threaded the little arched passage once more —regained Mill Street—and knocked at the door of the house the back part of which he had just been watching from the bridge. ‘* Who's there P’ demanded a gruff voice within. “Tibby Blades, the knife-grinder,” was the imme- diate response. “Don't know. you, my fine feller,” returned the graff voice in-doors. “ What do you want?” “lve got somethink wery particular to say to old Jeremy,” was tho rejoinder : “and I've been told he’s here. That's all.” : “ Well—wait a minute,” said the graff voice: and the knife-grinder could hear heavy steps retreating along the passage within. In a very short time, these steps retraeed their way to the door, which was opened—and a fierce-looking fellow, with a candle in his hand, appeared just inside the passage. The knife-grinder immediately entered saying in a familiar tonc, “ Holloa, Mr. Bencall, is this you? How are you?” The ficree-looking fellow shut the door—drew the bolt very carefully—put ap a cHain likewise—and then holding up the candle, stared the knife-grinder very hard in the face. “J don’t know you,” he at length said in a sullen manner and with evident suspicion. ‘“ Where have we met afore?” « ‘« Lor’ biess ye, Mr. Bencull,” exclaimed the knife- grinder, “such a famous feller as you are ain't unbe- known to even a poor devil like me. I’ve seen you at peveral of the flash cribs—Joe Parkes's on Saffron Hill—-Meg Blowen’s in the Almonry—Sharp Maw- ley’s in the Mint—Polly Scratchem’s over in White- “Well, that'll do,” growled Mr. Bencull. “It's very clear you know the flash cribs and boozing-kens; bat so does a Bow Street runner :”—and again he stared long and hard at the knife-grinder. “Eh! bat a Bow Street runner don't wenture down at Mr. Bencull’s dark crib in Mill Street, Jacob's Island,” was the ready answer given by Tibby Blades the knife-grinder, who stood the savage- leoking ruflian’s survey without wincing. “Well, that’s true enow,” observed Bencull, ap- parently satisfied and convinced: “cos if a runner or a thief-taker did come here—even if it was the cele- brated and skilful Larry Sampson his-self—I'm blowed if he’d ever get out alive. A sharp knife drawn edge- wise across the throat—an open window at the back of the house—and the black ditch underneath———by goles! that's the way to dispose of all waggabones of Larry Sampson's description.” “To be sure it is,” answered the knife-grinder, again pessing triumphantly through the ordeal of a long and searching survey on Mr. Benoull’s part. “ To tell you the truth, Mr. Sampson wants me for somethink I've done: but blowed if I wouldn't give him a couple of inches of cold steel before he should lay his mawieys on me.” rive MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. “ That's spoken like a man ” exclaimed Bancall, in 2 more familiar and friendly tone than he had yet adopted towards the knife-grinder. “ You'll excuse me, my nibsome pal, for being a trifle suspicions at fust: but them Bow-street chaps docs come such cursed rum dodges, you know———""__. “Don't aay another word about it, there's a fine feller,” exclaimed Tibby Blades. “I dare say we shall be tidy friends afore long—when yet come to know more of me. Lor bless yer—there isn't a genelman’s butler or footman at any country seat within ten miles round London that I hav’n't made keys for. ‘You undérstand me ?” “All right!—wide awake!—tip us your mawley, pal,” cried Mr. Bencull: then having shaken the knife-grinder by the hand, he sald, “And now come along, and I'll introduce you to the company.” Tibby Blades accordingly followed the rnffian into the back room on the ground floor ;—and there, by the light of a couple of tallow candies, and through a cloud of tobacco-smoke, were discovered several fll-looking men and two or three women of wantou and dissipated appearance. “A new friend—Mr. Tibby Blades,” exclaimed Bencull, doing the honours of introduction: and as the company felt assured that no one would be ad- mitted unless he was “all right,” they forthwith gave the knife-grinder a cordial welcome. “Now, then, Mr. Bencull,” said the new comer, tossing down a few shillings upon the table, “let's have some of your bingo, and bring me a brosely and some bird's-eye.” This figurative language, which meant nothing more nor less than that the knife-grinder proposed to treat the company with some brandy, and required a pipe and ‘obacco for himself, was instantaneously com- prehendcd by Mr. Bencull, the landlord .of the “dark crib:” and the articles thus ordered were forthwith supplied. “But where’s old Jeremy?” demanded Tibby Blades, glancing round upon the company. “I don't see him here ?” he added inguiringly. “ Tfe'’s up-stairs,” returned Bencull: “and you can gotohim. There—up the ladder—and lift the trap- d ae The knife-grinder, having tossed off a glass of brandy, and with his pipe in his mouth, proceeded te ascend the ladder; and raising the trap at the top, he introduced himself into a room the blackened walla and naked appearance of which were dimly shown by the light of a candle. The whole furniture ef the chamber consisted of but a table and a couple of chairs: and it was at this table and in one of those chairs that old Jeremy was seated. He was a man of about seventy ycars of age, without a tooth in his head, and with bieared éyes that added to the hideousness of his pale, shrivelled, wrinkled features. He was dressed ina seedy suit of black, and wore a white cravat—thus having the appearance of a decayed undertaker. Previous to the knife-grinder’s entrance into this chamber, old Jeremy was busily employed in examin- ing some watches, rings, snuff-boxes, and other articles of jewellery, all of which were spread out upon the table. These, in fact, were the fruits of the predatory skill of the men and women down stairs -—and old Jeremy, who usually visited the dark orib once a week for the purpose, was putting a value upon the various articles. In plainer terms, he was a notorious * fence,” or receiver of stolen goods; and he was now 7° = a CONNEC MOO SS = = COMM