The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 367: what you’re looking at

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

352 THE MYSTERIES. “ * Correspondence with my Eleanor,’” answered Julia, reading the endorsement. “That is to be burnt—the whole of it,” exclaimed Page. “ Untie the bundle and scatter the letters in the grate: they will take the flames more easily in that fashion. And here is another bundle destined to share the same fate: it is endorsed ‘ Miscellaneous.’ By the bye, wasn’t it a strange thing that Sir Richard was walking with the Princess Amelia in Windsor Park yesterday? She is really a sweet pretty young lady. There is something quite royal about her—and even before that park-keeper whom we questioned told us who she was, I had an in- stinctive presentiment that she was of high birth.” “Of high nonsense |” exclaimed Julia, who was busily engaged in burning the condemned corre- spondence. “ How can one woman be so different from another as all that?” “I didn’t mean to pay you any ill compliment, Julia my love,” returned Mr. Page: “no odious comparisons, you know—for you're a very pretty and genteel young woman—lady 1 meant to say— and ought to be a princess. But I was observing that Sir Richard was walking with the Princess in the park, when we went in search of him——” “ And he did not appear over well pleased that we accosted him while he was with her Royal High- ness,” interrupted Mrs. Page, returning to the table on which her husband was scattering and sorting the correspondence. “ Now—which heap is to be burnt—and which preserved ?” “Take these and throw them into the grate,” replied the ex-traveller. “The greater portion is to be destroyed, I see. Strange that Sir Richard Stamford himself should have such an uncdnquer- able aversion to visit the Manor !” “Not strange at all,’ observed Jutia,—“ seeing that his wife killed herself within its walls—and that such a mass of misfortanes all fell upon the poor dear gentleman's head at the same moment. It would be far more strange if he thought of ever living here again. But I have cleared away the heap that you put aside to be burnt. Aro there no more papers for the flames 2” “Patience, my dear—patienoe,” said the ex- traveller. “Iam not quite sure whether we have thoroughly examined this desk. It is an old fashioned piece of furniture—and there may be secret drawers, or what not.” “Tf there were, Sir Richard Stamford would have told you so,” observed Julia. “ But as he said nothing at all of the kind, you may be sure that there are none. Now, do make haste and leave off fiddling about with those little drawers. What is the use of pulling them all oat in that manner?” she demanded impatiently. “Because, my dear, I suspect that there is a secret recess in this piece of furniture,” answered Page, in a mysterious tone. “Sir Richard Stamford may not know anything about it: but J am rather a shrewd and far-seeing man, my love—and the more I exa- mine the arrangements of this desk, the more I am convinced that there is some curious contrivance about it. Look at the places into which these drawers fit: they don’t go close up to the board at the back. That’s quite clear! But here is a sort of false back—— Hey-dey !” he suddenly exclaimed ; and at the same moment that the ejaculation burst from his lips, the sharp, abrupt, clicking sound of a “What is it?’ she demanded, hurrying close up to the desk. *Jast what [ expected—and no more than | thought,” responded Page, joyously. “A secret recess, my love !—a private compartment, my dear! Look—the false back to the desk has started out of its setting! Who was right in his suspicions—eh ?” And the ex-traveller chuckled with glee. ~ *Come —Iet us examine it,” said Mrs. Page, thrusting her hand into the recess: bat she in- stantly drew it out again all covered over with the dust that had accumulated therein. “ By Jove! the secret compartment must have remained unused for a length of time!” exclaimed the ex-traveller. “ Depend upon it, we are in luck's way! Our vocation seems to be the discovery ot important documents regarding other,people's busi Thus speaking, Mr. Page tucked up his cvat- sleeve and laced wristband, and thrust his hand into the recess. : “Papers, by jingo !” he exclaimed, drawing forth bundle of letters much soiled by dust, and tied round with a faded riband. “ But let us see whether there is any endorsement.” And having wiped off the dust, he approached the bundle to the lamp in such- a manner that the light streamed full upon it. His wife looked over his shoulder; and their countenances expanded with joy at the same moment, as their eyes decyphered the following lines written at the back of the letter which was uppermost in the packet :— Correspondence between Miss Hannah Lightfoot and Lady Stamford: together with Inzportant Memoranda and Expia- natory Comments. In the Years 1(57—1758. “That must be the former Ladv Stamford—the wife of Sir William !” exclaimed Page. “Depend upen it, Julia my dear, these documents contaiu startling intelligence of some kind or other. Per- haps respecting the birth——” At this moment the door of the library w= opened and a man with his hat on and enveloped in a cloak, appeared upon the threshold. Mr, Page and his wife turned their eyes upon him at the same instant: and simultaneously also did ejaculations of terror burst from their lips—while their features became convulsed with horror,—and the packet of papers fell from the hand of the ex- traveller. For the countenance which thus met their startled, shuddering view and sent the blood with the chill of ice to their hearts, was that of Ramsey who had been hung at the debtors’ door of Newgate! Could they be mistaken? No: another look con- vinced them that those indeed were the features 20 indelibly impressed upon their memories; and, with yet louder and wilder cries, they precipitated them- selves from the room by a second door opening at the farther extremity. Away they sped in total darkness along a passage: crash they came against a door, which the violence of the concussion forced open—a light streamed upon their eyes—a shriek ealuted their cars—and from their own tongues thrilled the awful alarm of “+A ghost! a ghost!’ spring giving way startled his wife. ee ce ce a Le COUN COMIGCOOOKS