The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 329: what you’re looking at

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318 - “They were—and very poor. My mother dicd, a | { have already told you; and then my father went , to Italy, where I was brought up by him until he | O'clock im the evening—we will meet in London. See died also.” “ And what were his circumstances in Italy ?” “Tolerably good. Indeed, he obtained a compe- tency. But again I implore you-——” “Have you made any endeavour to find ont the man Thompson to whom your father alladed in his last words?’ “T have made inquiries, and inserted advertise- mentse—but all in vain.” “Thompeon ’’ eaid the woman in a musing tone. “Most y the manager of the strolling to which your father belonged—aend evidently ac- quainted with a secret which your father meant to reveal upon his death-bed. Now, this Thompeon shall be found out, if he is above ground. Though I wander all over England, wearing out my very Hfe in the search, he shall be found. I will eithe? discover the living man, or tLe grave in which he is bariad !”” The woman spoke with a resolute energy and a sternness of purpose that filled Deveril with aston- ishment, as well as excited his curiosity to the most torturing degree of suspense. Who was this atrange being that accident had thrown in ins way ? how was it that she had taken eo sudden an interest in his affairs? why should she wander about the world in search of the man Thompson? What earthly concern could she have in the affair? All these questions did Deveril put to himself, but with- out the possibility of answering them by means of ony ny conjecture of his own. Suddenly a thought Was the whole thing a stratagem on her part to obtain money from him? was she pre- tending this deep interest in his affairs with the hope of ing a draft upon bis purse? He resolved to put her to the test. “You seem to feel an interest in me,” he said; “and you speak of traversing the land to discover something thet intimately concerns me? As a matter of course, you expect that I shall pay your expenses-——”" “Silence, boy !* exclaimed the woman with a look & such ineffable scorn that he was at once con- vinced he had gone entirely on the wrong tack ; and his suspicions on that head were quieted in a moment. “Do you think this is an affair of filthy lucre to me?” she asked, bending ‘upon him a strange wild look: “or do you imagine that because { am clad thus miserably, and look a mere wander- ing beggar, I am affecting sympathy on your behalf. fur the sake of extracting the coin from your pocket? ‘William Deveril, you utterly mistake me. Such is not my motive. But what it is, I do not intend to explain now :”—and she rose to depart. “ You cannot mean to leave me in this mo state of suspense ?’’ he said. ‘I do indeed that there is a grave and a serious meaning at the bottom of all this; and you can well understand that my curiosity is painfully exeited.” “I am sorry that I cannot gratify it. It would do no good now. You must restrain your feelings. Go about your avocations, whatsoever they may be, and wherescever they may lie; and think no more of me for one whole month !” “For one whole manth!” echoed Deveril. “.And then P” \ THR MYSTxxiss OF THE COURT. “We will meet again. Carry it well im your mind; , this day month, and at this same bour too—sine that you keep this appointment: it may, or it may not be important. If it ia, eo much the betters if not, there will be no harm done.” “ But you have named no place where we are te meet.” “True!” said the woman: and then she appeared to reflect for upwards of a minute. “Tell me the place ef your abode,” she suddenly exclaimed. Deveril at once named the villa in the nsighbour- hood ot the Begent’s Park. - “Good!” eaid the woman. “One menth henee, day for day and hour for hour, will I be at yeur dwelling. And now frrewell.” Having thus spoken, the strange creature ab- ruptly took her departure; and in e few moments Deveril heard the aottage door close behind her. We will not make any farther attempt to analyze icting emotions which this scene left in the FoSse, uninterrupted slumber which he had enjoyed; and having dressed himself, he liberally rewarded the good-hearted peasants for all the kind attentions he had received st their hands. He then walked acrom whence he repaired to London by the earliaet nod avedieet meens that presented theme selves. CHAPTER LXVI. THE Gi@¥ OF THE “ BILLY-GOA?.” It was between nine and ten é’clock at night, when a private carriage in the immediate vicinity of old St. Pancras Charch; and as they had previously rendered themselves acquainted with the position of Agar Town, by consulting the map of London, they had little trouble in making out its actual site. They crossed the canal bridge, and inquiring of a person whom they met which was the aign of the Billy Goat, were duly directed thither. On reaching the low boosing-ken, such uproarious sounds of uncouth merriment, mingled with horrible imprecationa, came forth, that Deveril caught Mr. Gunthorpe by the arm, saying, “My dear cir, I think you hed much better not venture into this hornble place.” “ Nonsense, nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Gun- thorpe. “It is much worse for a young man like you—almost a boy, I might say—to penetrate inte such a den. But it is necessary—end we will ge . Come—follow me.” Thus speaking, Mr. Gunthorpe pushed open the folding-doors of the publio-house, aad walked im, Deveril close at his beels. “Tell them in the there,” eu- claimed Solomon Patch, “not to make such a cussed row. Here's genelmen come in; and who knows but they have a mind to take « bottle of wine in @ quiet comfortable manner ?” But as he spoke, the landlord of the Billy Goad eyed the visitors suspiciously, as if he thought they EGOHMGOOO ee =p 8 ©