The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 200: what you’re looking at

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186 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. ] | although the chandler might have been alone in that room. he assuredly was not alone in the house pre- vious to his (the officer’s) arrival. “‘T want to speak to you upon a very particular and important matter,” said Larry, in a low and con- fidential tone,—“ a matter which, if you can serve me in it, will put a hundred guineas into your pocket.” Taggarty instantaneously thought within himself that Sampson wanted him to betray Daniel Coffin into his hands ; and his mind was at once made up not to have anything to do with an affair that would inevitably bring all the Hangman’s confederates and accomplices, from every part of London, like a hor- net’s nest, about his ears. He accordingly said, “ If it’s any dirty work, Mr. Sampson. I shan’t do it.” “T donot think you will look upon it as dirty work at all,” responded the officer, still speaking in a low and guarded tone. “ But tell me frankly whether we can converse in this room without the chance of being overheard.” “Well, there’s a young o’oman of my acquaintance up-stairs, doing out the bed-chamber,”’ answered Taggarty: ‘‘and if she listens, she may overhear us.” “ Then will you step round with me to the nearest public-house ft” asked Sampson. “The truth is I am expecting a friend or two,” replied the chandler; “and I can’t very well leave. But just say in a whisper what the business is about.” | “It is relative to a lad called Jack the Foundling,” rejoined the officer, looking Taggarty very hard in the face. ‘ | “ And what about him?” asked the latter, eagerly. “That is just the question which I am going to put to you,” said Larry. “Now, I want to ascer- tain all the particulars I can possibly glean concern- ing the infancy of that lad; and if you will assist me, there are a hundred guineas in my pocket at your service.” weyers, * “A hundred guineas?” repeated Taggarty, his eyes brightening: “1 must sell a great many pen’norths of tea and slices of cheese to scrape that sum toge- ther! Well, sir, what is it you wish to know?” he asked in a very subdued voice. “TI am already aware,” responded Larry, “ that a great mystery envelopes the birth of the lad. He was either found or stolen; and it was a boy called James Melmoth who took him, when a babe, to the den in Grub Street, whence you have derived your nickname of the Kinchin-Grand. I also know that the present Richard and Sarah Melmoth, who have been living with the deceased Daniel Coffin, are the brother and sister of that James Melmoth of whom I have spoken, but who has long been dead. I am moreover aware that your late mistress, Shickster Sal, brought up the Foundling.” “ Then, if you know all this, Mr. Sampson,” said Taggarty, “ what more can you expect to glean from me ?’”’—and the chandler now felt easier in his mind, because he saw, from an observation just made by Larry, that he really supposed the Hangman to have been drowned, and that consequently his visit to Mutton Hill at such a moment was purely an acci- dental coincidence. “T expect to glean from you any additional in- formation which you may be enabled to impart,” said Sampson. “In the first place, endeavour to recollect the precise date on which the babe was brought to the Kinchin-Ken in Grub Street.” “It was the Ist of June, 1795,” answered Tag- | garty. | “ How do you recollect the date so well ?” inquired | Larry Sampson. “Because I remember that it was the day before James Melmoth’s father murdered Sir Richard Stame | ford in Windsor Park, and then blew out his own brains,” was Taggarty’s response. | “It was not known for some time aftewards that _ the assassin of the baronet was the same wretched © man whose previous enormities had so horrified the metropolis.” a | “But I knew it was the same man,” observed Tag- | garty, in a scarcely audible whisper; “ because his | son, young James, told me so at the time. After- wards I mentioned the circumstance to my pals—it got talked about—and this was the way the public at length knew that James Melmoth, senior, was the assassin of Sir Richard Stamford.” “Now, was not the babe stolen by that man and his son James?” asked Sampson. “He was,” replied Taggarty. ‘ I don’t see any harm in telling you the real truth now.” “Certainly not. And it was in Hyde Park that the babe was thus stolen 2” “Tt was. But you seem to know all about it,” said the chandler, in surprise. “Yet I do not see how you can possibly have learnt this: for I have never divulged the secret until now. Neither Dick nor Sal Melmoth knew so much about the business. They were children at the time it happened: but their eldest brother James made me his confidant to a certain extent.” “Did he tell you whose child it was?” asked Sampson. “No. He had sworn a most solemn oath to his father not to reveal the secret of the child’s parent- age until it was at least twelve years of age.” “ Do you know why the Melmoths stole the child?” demanded Larry, “ Because they had some dreadful spite against its parents, I believe. But you are perhaps aware that young James. Melmoth died a violent death within a few days after his father’s suicide: and thus in the interval he had not much leisure to be over- communicate with me.” “Is this all you know?” inquired Larry Samp- son: then, seeing that Taggarty hesitated, he pro- duced a bag of gold and counted down a hundred guineas upon the table, saying, “ If you can give me any farther proofs relative to the circumstances of which we have been speaking, this sum is yours,” “Stop a moment,” observed Taggarty. “If the Foundling should turn out to be the son of wealthy or great folks, how do I know but what I shall get into trouble for having been a sort of accessory to the harbouring of him after he was stolen ?” “[ will give you a written guarantee that no harm shall befall you,” replied Sampson. “Your word will do, sir,” rejoined the chandler, “And now I will fetch you the only proofs that I can put into your hands—but they will no doubt be found convincing enough.” Having thus spoken, Taggarty rose and ascended the staircase, shutting the door carefully behind him. On entering the bed-room up-stairs, he found the Hangman, Dick Melmoth, and Sally, engaged in earnest conversation together upon their future plans aud proceedings under existing circumstances: but they were all astounded and alarmed when the CORnnICLOOKS ee)