The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 250: what you’re looking at

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consigned the despatch to hia pocket. 256 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURS On re- turning to the drawing-room, his countenance remaining as composed as before, afforded not the least indication of the nature of the official docu- ment which he had received—while etiquette for- bade even the under-sheriffs to venture an inquiry upon the point. | “IT understood you on Saturday,” said the sheriff, addressing himself to the governor, “that there was no person then engaged to officiate as the functionary of the law.” “+ And such is still the case, sir,” replied the go- vernor. “I believed that some criminai within the - walls would have aecepted the post of Public Exe- - cutioner: but only a few minutes before your arrival _ titude outside the prison,” said the sheriff. _ proceed to fulfil that duty at once.” | a the turnkeys assured me that not a single soul would undertake the office.” “ Then a proclamation must be made to the mul- “71 will Accordingly, followed by the under-sheriffs and the governor, the high civic functionary repaired _ tothe debtor’s door; and ascending the steps of the gallows, he mounted the platform. A dead silence fell upon the congregated mass of people, the murmuring of their myriad voices suddenly ceasing, and the oscillation of the living waves sub- siding into acalm, Every eye was fixed with an expression of curiosity and suspense upon the sheriff, as he proceeded to make the proclamation, which was to the effect that an individual was re- quired to undertake the office of Public Execu- tiover, and that should such volunteering individual have in any way rendered himself amenable or ob- noxious to the law, he (the sheriff) was empowered to offer him a free pardon for his offences. Scarcely were the words spoken, when a loud voice exclaimed, “I accept the proposition !’—and the savage-looking black fellow already mentioned, jumped upon the barrier and scrambled up to the platform of the gallows. “ Hooray!” shouted the multitudes, which for a moment had feared that they were to be baulked ef the spectacie they had crowded thither to behold. Nor less were the aristocratic exquisites at the two windows opposite, rejoiced to find that the drama would proceed without the interruption that had for aa instant appeared to threaten its tragic development. The sheriff descended from the scaffold and re- entered the prison, followed by the under-sheriffs, the governor, and the volunteer hangman: and, the clock having now struck eight, they all pro- ceeded to the condemned cell, where Dysart and the chaplain were together. The criminal, fully satisfied that his reprieve was in the sheriff’s pocket, presented an aspect of firmness and bowed courteously to the civic autho- rities. These functionaries remained in the pas- sage outside the door of the cell which was now left open; and the sheriff, addressing himself to the chaplain, said, “I wish to speak to you a moment.” The Ordinary hastened out of the cell; and as the sheriff drew him aside a little way down the corridor, Dysart percoived that he drew forth from his pocket a despatch of the invariable oflicial shape and bearing a large seal. “That is my reprieve |” thought Dysart: and the ooo ON meen ee me flood of life circulated with a more rapid flow in | his veins. “Beg pardon, sir,” said the yolunteer hangman, producing his whipcord to pinion the criminal’s arms: then, as he drew the criminal gently aside towards the farther extremity of the cell, he hastily whispered “You've nothing to fear, Mr. Dysart. The sheriff has got your reprieve—and I have seen 4: £? The criminal had recoiled loathingly from the first touch of the hangman—and the more so on account of his repulsive look, for the fellow’s face was black as that of a negro: but the voice in- stantaneously sounded familiar to Dysart’s ear— and surveying the wretch’s countenance attentively, he recognised through the soot and grime that covered it, the features of Daniel Coffin ! Glancing towards the door, and observing that no one was noticing nim particularly at the instant, Dysart gave the Hangman a nod of recognition: then, in a scarcely audible tone, he said, “You — have positively seen the reprieve ?” “TI saw the sheriff show it to the under-sheriffs, and even heard him read the private instructions on the margin,” returned Coffin, in an equally low voice, as he pinioned the arms of the criminal. “And those instructions—what are they?” de- manded Dysart, with nervous impatience. “ That the reprieve is not to be produced till the moment the drop is ready to fall,” responded the Hangman. “So you needn’t be alarmed, sir: and in a quarter of an hour you will fiud yourself safe and sound back ip this cell again.” * You are a good fellow, Coffin, for being anxious thus to reassure me,” said Dysart, trembling some- what with excitement, but not from actual fear. **'You’ve always behaved like a gentleman to mes sir,” replied the Hangman: “ and IL should have been sorry indeed to tuck youup., But now's the time to move for’ard.” Having thus spoken in a hurried whisper, the Hangman signified aloud to the governor that everything was ready: and the procession was formed. The chaplain and sheriff, who had re- mained outside together conversing in the passage, went first. pinioned, and closely followed by the Hangman,— the governor, under-sheriffs, aldermen, and a few of the gaol officials bringing up the rear. Along two or three stone passages did the mournful procession adyance: and now the tolling of St. Sepulchre’s bell became more and more plainly audible to the ear. Again did a sudden terror strike to the very heart’s core of the criminal, Heavens! if the reprieve—the assurances that had hitherto sustained him—the promise of life, par- don, and liberty,—O God! if all these were but the delusions of his brain—the phantoms of his own imagination! That knell which rang so ominously —the solemn tread of the procession through the vaulted passages—the murmuring of the multitudes without—and now the deep voice of the chaplain commencing the service for the dead,—Oh! what could all this mean ?—what did it signify? Where- fore this tremendous parade—this pomp and dis- play of death itself—if all were to end in a con- tinuance of life? And that chaplain’s voice—did it breathe an accent of hope? Oh! no—no: it was profound—solemn—even sepulchiral, as if warn- ing him in unmistakable tones that this was indeed | Then came Dysart, with his arms EE EGO (C KOKO KS (e©)