The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 204: what you’re looking at

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

198 “Perhaps,” said the ruffian the cold perspiration pouring off him as he spoke, “ you would exchange it for the papers you name?” * Not at all likely,” said Prim; “ but if you behave swell, Pll keep it carefully for you, and leave it you _ asa legacy when I die. You had better take the hundred guineas.” Sedier thought so too. “You can keep the child,” said the old rascal, with asmile, after the transaction was concluded, and the | papers safe in his iron chest; “and perhaps I may - allow you a trifle towards his support. But under- stand me, George, you must never call here unless i send for you—never.” “As you please, sir.” It was astonishing how tractable the fellow had become. “Good-night,” continued his host; “stay, V’ll go with yea through the outer office—it will.be best for you.”’ This was the signal agreed upon with the officers, If Sedler passed through alone, they were to arrest him; if accompanied by Prim, they were to take no notice. “J have had no occasion for your services, gentle- men,” said the lawyer, as he returned from seeing his visitor to the bottom of the stairs; * but there is a guinea each for the trouble I have given you. The mistake has been satisfactorily explained.” Thus ended the first of a series of games between Mr. Prim and the gipsy, which were something like games of chess—much calculation and little chance; but one of them was doomed to be checkmated at last, which time will show. CHAPTER VIL. Ob, then J see Queen Mab hath been with you. Shakespeare. Twe clock in the great court of Trinity had struck twelve the morning after the debauch at Chesterton, ere Darwin, after turning lazily in his bed, and giving ene or two yawns, fairly awoke. “Where amI? Oh, in college—all right. Digby, ¥ dare say,saw me home, I fear,” he added. “I was infernally drunk Jast night. I shall lose ground if it reaches Mr. Speculative’s ears.” These and a thousand confused recollections of his song and extraordinary ride, flitted like Banquo’s ghosts across his brain, and he began to entertain con- siderable doubts as to the stability of the good name which he had been guilty of so much bypoerisy to secure, and in which, although one great purpose was obtained, from ulterior views he was anxious to persevere in, “Psbaw! it can be nothing but a foolish dream P”’ he exclaimed, ringing at the same time the bell for his gyp, who in a few moments stood by his master’s bed- side, “ How did I get home Jast night?” ue demanded, “I fear that I was rather overcome with wine, Did Mr. Digby accompany me?” “No, sir,” replied the gyp, with great difficulty lestraining an inclination to laugh; “I saw no one but the boy, and—and——~” “ Whom ?” r.ared Darwin. “‘ The cow, sir!” spluttered the man, yainly endea- vouriug to maintain bis gravity. The recellection was too much for him, and he laughed till the tears roled down his grimy face. ——_. eee THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON, hypocrite, convinced that the axtrivedGiary Ha which had haunted his imagination was no dream, ‘That is not all,” continued the man, as soon as | was able to speak; “ just as you reached the gates horse—I beg pardon, on cow-back—Mr, 8 | wes leaving college for his usual valk, an insisted on your name being sent to the master.” “ Damnation!” muttered the now sober “a pretty trick! No matter; it will cost m bi few lies to turn all the disgrace upon the con he ei it. Could Digby have been present ?—no, 10, e @ m have left before I made such an ass of myself. : fast and soda-water!” he added aloud. The speaker had been seated at table m half-an-hour, expecting, as is usnal after a call from his friends, not one of whom, how yet, had made his appearance. ‘The non Digby filled him with a disagreeable foret lepgth, to his infinite relief, Lord L nto nounced, and Darwin felt glad to see him; a under other circumstances, he would as 8 seen the proctors in his rooms as the cold Scotchman. Policy alone induced him to iny to his party on the preceding day. “My dear Linton,” he exclaimed, began to think wy friends had for al some of them have little claim to tee ibe at aft r th ungentlemanly trick they played me H heard of the affair?” “ Heard of it!” repeated the Scot, with a look c surprise; “ why Cambridge rings with it, Ihave al ready seen the commencement yeINS C ; subject ; and God knows how npn! 1ai be in hand. Why, lad, ye'll be i immortal Hell and ten thousand devils!” exclaimed the | Darwin began pacing the room in an un governal ole passion, to which, for a few moments, ne gave . Stopping suddenly opposite to his visitor, wh quietly enjoying his confusion, he said: “ But one way, Lord Linton, I feel, remains to put a stop to this unmanly jest—d ing satisfactic of the ungentlemanly perpetrators, and aa 1 who | venture to repeat it. You, doubtless, were present; oblige me by giving up their names. If you are m friend, you cannot hesitate.” ; * Your friend!—of course I am your rie Pe swered the peer, secretly rejoicing at. the ¢ he had that morning taken of binding vet | oe e3) all who had been concerned in the he eH hry d’ye think that I am a likely mon,” te have stood tamely by, and seen my host, wha had been regaling me with claret a pagne, and heaven kens how mony gude t side—made sic an ass of? No! lad, not i English, but it’s no Scotch fashion. I ken r than the mon in the moon, and mayb much, for the fickle goddess shone late | rather early this morning. “ Ye’ll excus ing,” he added; “buat were ye no a maist particu friend, I should think it the best joke 1 have . this term.” “ Hell and—Heaven Asbdon me,” said ing the word, and trying to look sh enough to make a moral man for once fo! I had almost fallen into the sin of an oath.” __ “Weel, and where’s the harm?” demari visitor. “Surely, after last night’s co sior never pit on that cloak of nypockiag a # n? Di and a few such milk-and-water fellows may cat y headded; “but for myzizyreF 2 Ae