The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

7 RESET Sa ae SE 84 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. in. Of course you see through him as well as} “You'll want some one to help you, Tibby,” ob- a CT ST Ido. But enough of that. I told you just now that I like your looks: what I ought to have said was that I like what I’ve heard of you— because as for your looks, you'll excuse me for saying that they're scarcely distinguishable through the grime and soot.” “And what have you heard of me?” inquired Tibby Blades. “That you're one of the right sort,” was the im- mediate answer. “So, in a few words, if you’ve anything in hand where you want the aid of a staunch comrade, I’m your man.” “The truth is,” said the knife-grinder, “I know of a job that can be done nice and safe—down in the country somewhere——” - “Ts it a crack?” demanded the Hangman, thus figuratively inquiring whether the affair alluded to was an intended burglary. *“ No—a post-chaise robbery,’ rejoined the knife-grinder. “The genelman to be robbed is now in town: his butler and me are on a tolerable good understanding together—and that’s how I’ve got my information. Last evening, as I was leaving Richmond, I met this here butler who was a-pleasuring down there for the day; and he told me as how his master will leave London one day next week in a post-chaise, and with a trunk full of new plate and all kinds of jewellery and trinkets for his family.” “Ah! by the gibbet and halter! this will be good pickings,” said the Hangman. ‘So I suppose that on receiving this information from your friend the butler, you returned to London——” *Yes—although I’m wanted by the runners,” answered the knife-grinder. ‘ Having heard old Jeremy Humpage’s name mentioned at Polly Scratchem’s, I thought of making it all right with him beforehand, to receive the property and toss it into his melting-pot the instant I get it up to London it ** Moving the goods, as he calls it,” observed the Hangman, with a grim smile. “ Well—go on.” “Tve nothing more to say—only that Polly Scratchem told me where Humpage lived in Whitechapel, and on going to his house I found he wasn’t at home; so I went back to Polly, and then she recollected where it was his night to be— and knowing she could trust me, although I’m somewhat of a stranger to the flash coves in Lon- don, she whispered that I should find him at the Folly Bridges.” * “ Well—and he has agreed to receive the pro- | perty, supposing the affair comes off?” said the _ Hangman, inquiringly. “In his humbugging fashion,’ answered the _ kmife-grinder, “he has told me that if so be any nobleman or genelman sends me to his house with | certain goods to dispose of, he won’t make no bones of buying ’em off-hand. So that point’s as good as settled. To-morrow I’m off into the country— "cos why, London is rayther too hot to hold me: but on Monday I shall come up again to meet my friend the butler—and then he’ll let me know the exact day and hour when his master intends to - start for home.” -—— -——— * In the days of which we are writing—namel y, thirty- six years ago—Jacob’s Island was generally known as ‘* The Folly Bridges.” served the Hangman. “To be sure—and you shall go snacks with me in the business,” was the immediate answer. “I'll see you again next Monday, either here or wher- ever you like,” “ At my place in Fleet Lane,” said Jack Ketch. | “Of course old Jeremy has told you who I am— Dan’el Coffin—public executioner—cheap barber —and all that sort of thing,” “1 twig, my fine feller,” returned Tibby Blades. “Then we’ve nothing more to say at present,” observed the Hangman. “You can step down stairs and blow a cloud, while I just transact a little private business with old Jeremy Humpage— and then I'll join you. I suppose you ain’t in a hurry to be off for an hour or so?” * Not a bit of it,” responded the knife-grinder. * On the contrary, I should like to have a little chat with you, so as to make us better acquainted —partickler as were going to do business to- gether.” * Well, Pll join you and the others down below in a few minutes,” said the Hangman. Tibby Blades accordingly returned to the lower room, while Daniel Coffin remained behind to dis- course with old Jeremy. CHAPTER XXIV. THE COMPANY AT THE DARK CRIB. TueE knife-grinder, on resuming his seat at the table amongst the rogues and vile women assem- bled there, lighted his pipe—ordered more brandy —and proceeded to indulge in a more scrutinizing survey of the company than he had previously been enabled to take. There was one hideous-looking man, with his nose smashed flat to his face, so that he resembled a being with a death’s head. He hada black eye and a handkerchief tied over his forehead — which did not improve his appearance. He was a Swag Chovey Bloak, or marine-store dealer,—a fence on a small scale, and was accustomed te sell to oid Jeremy any articles of value which he pur- chased from the thieves or pickpockets in imme- diate connexion with himself. There were two fellows, each with a black patch over one eye, although the optics thus concealed were perfect and free from injury as those which were left uncovered. But one pretended to be an — old soldier, declaring that he had lost an eye in the wars: and he was called Bob the Durrynacker, | alias the Beggar. The other was a Mushroom Faker, or fellow who went about with umbrellas to mend: and the black patch was now a part of some new disguise which he had recently assumed. There was a very pale-faced man, dressed in seedy black, and having an appearance of shabby respectability. He looked like a decayed tradesman —one who had seen better days; and by dint of | practice, he had subdued and plasticised his counte- nance into an expression of profoundly sanctimo- nious melancholy. He was a regular Highfyer of Fakements, or Begging-letter Impostor: and he kept his cheeks pale, thin, and emaciated by drinking a bottle of Mr. Bencull’s vitriolised gin every night of his life. oo — + —— S