The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

148 THE MYSTERIES bills were accordingly printed, proclaiming that the mercy of the Crown would be to s certain degree extended to any one of the gang (the Burker him- self excepted) who would give such information as should place the others in the hands of the police ; or the same benefits would be extended to that one of the said gang who would surrender up the Burker alone to the authorities. These bills were printed early on the morning of which we have been writing; and they began to be circulated in the metropolis at the time the Burker took his station at the West End, disguised as a Jew, and with his tray of pastilles before him. The police-officers were active in scattering the bills amidst the low quarters of London,—knowing that in these districts they were far more likely to have the effect of attaining their object than in the superior districts of the metropolis. It hap- pened that one of the first of theee printed pro- clamations that were issued, fell into the hands of Jack Smedley, as in some new disguise he was wandering through the district of St. Luke’s in as wretched a state of mind as can be well conceived. On reading the handbill, the gold-beater was at once smitten with the thought of availing himself of the benefit which it held out. He understood its meaning full well: it signified that whoever would turn round upon his accomplices should experience tha mercy of the Crown so far as to have his life spared, though with the certainty of eustaining the application of the next degree of punishment,— namely, transportation for the rest of his days. Jack Smediey was, as the reader has seen, a veritable coward in most respects — although having hardihood sufficient to plunge into crime when led on, encouraged, and assisted by others. Bat the idea of the gibbet was for him fraught with euch terrors that it was a matter of surprise it had not restrained him from crime altogether : —~—unless indeed we must take into acoount the cir- cumstance that every man when committing a deed of turpitude, hugs the belief that it will never be discovered. And now, upon reading this proclamation, Jack Smedley beheld the means of saving his life—Aye! and not only of saving his life, but also of revenging himeelf on the Burker for the last event which had marked their intercourse. What to Smedley was transporta- tion for the remainder of his existence, if he could only save that existence from a horrible and igno.- minious fateP To have the power of patting out from his imagination that dark einister object which was looming before his mental vision—to escape from the haunting influence of the sombre gallows and all the dread paraphernalia of death, —this were indeed happiness, although at the same time he should be doomed to fix his eyes on the far-off regions of eternal exile! Not many moments did the gold-beater waste in delibera- tion: his mind was speedily made up; and with the proclamation in his hand, he set out on his search after Barney the Burker. We have said that he was wearing a new sort of disguise: but it is not worth while to pause and describe ite details. Suffice it to say, that profiting by the hints which he had received from the Barker the evening but one previous, he had made such alterations in his appearance as were indeed well calculated to defy the scrutiny of the most lynx-eyed detective. Accordingly, he made OF THE COURT. his way through the streets of London, without exciting any suspicion, and without attracting towards himeelf a single suspicious look on the part of any constable whom he encountered. He knew enough of the Burker’s desperate character to be well aware that if he were still in the metropolis, he was just as likely to be haunting one of the best neighbourhoods as to be lurking | about in one of the worst. “He is pretty sure,” thought Jack Smedley within himself, “to keep on that old Hebrew dis- guise: for he knows it to be the best he could possibly have; and notwithstanding what took place betwixt him and me, he can’t for a moment fancy that I should think of betraying him. There- fore it isn’t on my account he would leave Lon- don. Besides, didn’t he tell me that he had got a little business in hand which would keep him here for a few days ?—and Barney is not the man to make hiniself scarce before his work is done. De- pend upon it he és in London !—and if so, I will have him. My own life depends upon it! Aye —and for that matter, I would give up Bab like- wise——Anything to save myself from swinging on the gallows! Besides, hasn’t Bab led me a precious life—always teasing and tormenting me —callimg me a coward—domineering over me— making me do exactly what she chosee—ordering me about as if I was her slave? Yes, yes !—I have no compunction now: my own safety is all that I have to think of!” Such were the thoughts which passed through Jack Smedley’s mind as he wandered about the streets of London searching for the Burker. At length, while making his way through a quarter at the West End, just as he reached the top of a street into which he was about to turn, he caught sight of a dress the aspect of which instantaneously sent a thrill of joy through his heart. I¢ was as- suredly the Burker !—there could be no mistake! The beard—the hat—the gaberdine,—all were the same!—and then, too, he was evidently selling pastilles; and in his discourse with Smedley at the lodgings of the latter, he had with coarse jocularity declared that it only required this addi- tion to the circumstances of his disguise in order to render that disguise complete. — Jack Smedley literally trembled with the feel- ings that now agitated him. The safety of his own life appeared to be within his reach :—but what if the Burker should still escape him? He flung his glances hurriedly up and down the street : not a policeman was to be seen. He looked again towards the Burker; and he now beheld him in discourse with a strange-looking old man, whom our readers will recognise as Jonathan Carnabie. Again did the gold-beater fling his glances around : but still no policeman !—and he did not dare leave the spot—he did not dare lose sight of Barney the Barker for even a single minute, lest that minute should be sufficient to enable him to vanish alto- ther. ys onathan Carnabie had now finished his second bargain with the Burker, and was moving away: he was coming in the direction of that extremity of the street where Jack Smedley posted himself. But, ah! the Burker was retreating in the oppo- site direction. The gold-beater’s first impulse was to give the alarm-—to cry “Stop thief !” and thus set numbers upon his track. But a second thought GOMGOOO (G (CO