The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

— an 48 THE MYETERIES OF THE COURT. use playing the fool with us: your husband ée in the house—and we must search for him. There’s a couple of my men at the back part of the pre- mises; and Tom there is keeping the front door. So there’s no chance of escape. You had bet- ter 99 * Good heavens! what has my poor husband done P” exclaimed Mrs. Smedley, as if overwhelmed with grief. “But it is impossible! Jack is as quiet as the child unborn—and & pious man too— such a pious man!” “I’m sorry to say,” interrupted the detective officer—for such he wae—“ that if you don’t really know anything about it already—you've lost your mother.” “My mother!” ejaculated Mrs. Smedley, na a great show of wild astonishment and grief: “ don’t surely mean that she has been tried—and— and—already——”” * “Executed ?” said the officer, calmly finishing the sentence for Mrs.Smedley. “ No—not exactly. She’s cheated the hangman——In plain terms, ma'am, she poisoned herself in the middle of last night—your husband took the very first train from Liverpool this morning—he was telegraphed up— bat somehow or another we just now missed at the Euston Square Station—though we after- wards learnt that such a person did arrive this evening by that particular train. However, we know he must be here.” | “My poor mother!” sobbed Mrs. Smedley. “ But what could my busband———” “Have to do with it?” ejaculated the officer. “Why, he gave her the poison as a matter of course! Who else could possibly have done it P” “ Ob, Sir, I can assure you Jack is incapable of suchathing! He went to Liverpool to see my poor mother—to teach her which was the right path if she had really gone into the wrong one———~” “ Come, ma’am—this gammon won't do for us. Tom, Jet another of our people come in—and you follow me. Sorry to be rude, ma am—very natural for you to try and screen your husband—but it won't do. Please to favour us with this light.” Bab Smedley had thrown herself upon a chair, in which she now sate rocking herself to and fro with every semblance of being utterly disconsolate, and likewise as if heedless of the words that were spokento her. The tall detective took up the candle; and fol- lowed by his man Tom, he passed into the back room. No one was there. They ascended the staircase; the upper chambers were speedily searched, but still without success. - They de- scended: and Bab Smedley joined them in the passage,—saying, “Well, gentlemen, you see my husband is not in the house: but I almost wish he was, that he might convince you of the error under which you labour him. A pious vessel like him—a deacon of the Shining Light’s Chapel —it is out of the question! But you have behaved eo civil in doing your daty, that I hope you'll just step into the parlour for a moment and take a small glase of something ?” “Btop a minute!” said the tall detective : r there’ s a place down stairs. Come along, om.” “Ob, well,” said Bab Smedley, still admirably preserving her presence of mind, and simulating an air of mournfulness in which there was no betrayal of anxious apprehension, “you can speedily satisfy yourself in that quarter—and then you shall accept the little refreshment | offer you.” The two detectives descended the stairs,—Bab Smedley following, to procure, as she said, two or three more giasses. Her conduct appeared so natural—her was performed with such oon- summate skill—that the detectives began really to think her husband could not be any where about the premises; at the same time that they wefe not the men to be stayed in the process of their investigation by anything which might possibly be an artifice to civert them from the scent. The place which we have described as the scul- lery, was reached : the detectives passed at once into the front kitchen—but, as the reader may imagine, without discovering the object of their search. Cupboards were opened— nooks were pryed into—but all in vain. They repassed into the scullery: the huge door communicating with the cellar was —the interior was i —but no Jack Smedley was there. The two offi- cers exchanged quick glances, as much as to imply that the woman had spoken truthfully after all, him | and that their trouble was vainly taken. “Now, gentlemen,” said Bab—and it was a very anxious moment for the woman—but her inward feelings were not outwardly betrayed; “ you will perhaps come up to the Parlour and have a nice drop of something warm P”’ “In a minute, ma'am,” answered the tall de- tective. “But what the deuce does « bit of carpet mean in a place like this ?” He looked searchingly at the goldbeater’s wife as he spoke; and she steadily met that scrutinizing gaze. The next instant he kicked up the carpet with his foot: but the table stood so exactly over the outlines of the trap-door that the carpet was not dislodged sufficiently to reveal them. The keen experienced eye of the detective led to the fancy that he perceived something like a studied artifice in the arrangement of the kitchen utensils and crockery on the little deal table; and lifting it up, he removed it away from the middle of the scullery. At the same instant he glanced fur- tively towards the woman: it struck him that for a single moment there was the glitter of uneasiness in her eyes: but if so, that betrayal of her feeling was so transient it could not be regarded as a positive certainty. However, the bit of carpet was now kicked completely away; and the outlines of the trap-door were revealed. “ Ah, here is something, Tom!” eaid the tall detective, etamping with his feet above the mouth of the pit, so that the hollow sound thus produced Gonormed the suspicion of the existence of a trep- The next instant it was raised; and at the same moment a sudden precipitate rush, as if of some wild animal, caused the detectives themselves to etart—while a shriek of terror thrilled from the lips of the woman who until this abrupt occur. rence had maintained such extraordinary presence of mind. It was the black cat, which had come sweeping down the stairs with a gushing noise of lightning quickness; and making the circuit of the scullery, the animal whisked up the staircase again as if it were wild. “ That’s an omen, I suppose?” said the tall dee ECOMmiclooolkks co