The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 234: what you’re looking at

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

od ome ee we ee 228 6 Yes, sir, ” Without waiting even to change hia travelling dress, the anxious Mr, Prim started to Newgate, to have an interview with his equally anxious friend the landlord of the Rising Sun. The worthy lawyer found his old acquaintance pacing up and down the felons’ yard, much in the humour of a caged tiger or a trapped wolf. Bitterly did he curse his folly in having listened to the temp- tation which Mike’s sneers and doubts of his courage had thrown out. Indeed, so violent had been his resentment towards his fellow prisoner, that for two days it had been found necessary to keep them apart. Latterly, however, he had become apparently recon- ciled to him, though still at times fierce bursts of invective would break out, which showed the gall still rankled in his heart. The non-arrival of Prim had still farther increased his ill-humour, and in his alternate fits of despair and passion he vowed one moment to hang and the next to strangle him. “ Ah! Mr. Sedler!” exclaimed his visitor, extending his hand, “I am sorry to see you here.” * Doubtless,” grinned the ruffian. “J should have been here before, but I have been absent from town on business for a distinguished client —in fact, election business-—— “T know,” interrupted the prisoner,— Mowbray.” “ Hush !” “But I won’t hush! You know, as well as I do, that if I’m a rogue, he is a greater, and that you are worse than either of us. So if I must swing, others shall swing with me. I'll make a clean breast of it; it shall all ont.” “Pooh, pooh!” exclaimed the lawyer, nervously, “don’t talk of swinging; it must be a very difficult case indeed that I can’t get you through—the law has such delightful uncertainties, and J am so experi- enced. Instead of quarrelling, George, let us converse like men who are interested in each other’s welfare. What are you here for?” “ Highway robbery,” replied the gipsy, in a low tone, “How could you be so imprudent?” whispered Prim, blandly; “a man of your substance, too! I really am ashamed of you; it was beneath your posi- tion in the world.” “Stupid enough,” said Sedler; “I could gnaw my heart when I think of it. Still, bad as it is, it might have been worse, It might have been——’’ “ Murder,” said the lawyer, interrupting him ; “that is worse, I confess. Was the robbery accompanied with any violence?” “ A little,” growled the ruffian. “ Ah! tell me, my dear friend, what do you call a little? Speak out, there need be no concealment between us,” “T stuck my knife through his arm.” “ Whew!” exclaimed the lawyer, as if he felt a sudden twinge—“ that’s ugly—very ugly!” * Would it had been through his heart!” muttered the gipsy. “That might have been better,” observed the man of law to himself; but he was too prudent to give utterance to his thought. “ Who is the person with whom you had this little unpleasant affair?” he inquired, “His evidence must be bought off.” “Impossible!” said the prisoner; “he is one of your regular gentry coves. When the beak asked “Sir Walter him for his address, he gave the house of some lord, | ho Erring—Herrey—Herring—something.” _— ee ad THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON, “ Erringcourt ?” suggested Prim. “ That’s the name.” “Was it lis lordship, then, whom you so im- prudently——” “ No,” interrupted Sedler—for since his imprison- ment he had become most nervously impatient—“ the fellow called himself Fitzgerald.” “What did you say?” demanded the lawyer, breathless with astonishment. “ Fitzgerald.” “ Well, that is remarkable.” “Do you know him?” eagerly demanded the prisoner. « No,” ‘‘That’s a lie—you do know him!” exclaimed the gipsy, ferociously. “Come, come—no ringing the doubles on me. Deal on the square, or it shall all out.” “ Well, it is a lie,” said the man of law, “for I do know him.” “I thought so.” ‘But he does not know me; and if he did,” con- tinued the speaker, “it would only make him the more inveterate against us both. One thing you are sure of—that, if it can be done, I’ll save you for my own sake. Do not you question me as to the means, As for your companion Mike, I can do nothing for him—absolutely nothing.” “Yes you can,” whispered Sedler; “hang him— hang him! He stung me by sneering at my courage. I should chuckle to see him at the gallows’ foot, even if I rode in the same cart with him.” “You must have confidence in me,” observed Prim. “I can’t,” replied the fellow, wildly—“I can’t. I see the devil peeping through your eyes, mocking your promises. Iam sure you will deceive me; and yet, like a wretch, I cling to you as madmen cling to I know the rope is straw, yet still I hold by it.” “ And if you are wise you will hold tightly ” added Prim; “ for ’tis your last stay.” ‘‘ No it aint,” said the prisoner doggedly ; “I’ve one more left.’ “ And what is that?” “Sir Walter Mowbray,” replied the fellow, sul- lenly. “ Sir Walter Mowbray! pooh!” said the lawyer, trying to look as unembarrassed as possible; * how can he serve you?” “ Hasn’t the king made him first scratchetary ?” “ First what ?” demanded the really puzzled lawyer. “Scratchetary; Curly Moses told me s0;—the fellow wot settles who’s to be hanged and who isn’t; the sorter of gaol-birds for the gallows,” “‘ Nothing of the kind,” “There you are,” resumed the prisoner, “lying again, The governor told me so, as well as Curly Moses, and I axed Holy Joe besides. Do you think they’d all three lie?” The allusion to the chaplain startled his visitor, who dreaded his accomplice falling into his hands, It is astonishing how soon he became enlightened as to the gipsy’s meaning. “Oh! I see; you mean secretary—secretary of state?” “ Well, s’poseI does! it’s all the same, secretary or scratchetary.” “You are right—quite right. Sir Walter does fill that important office, and it is upon that I build my pes. “So do I,” COLA Ghbooks.com ge ee a