The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 394: what you’re looking at

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

392 aceident in this. Perhaps Providence intends to bring their crimes to light at last.” “And where is Rose?” demanded Faddle., “In the next room, I believe, with her boy.” ‘‘ Where have you been all these years?” “In America, And you?” “In France, Italy, Germany: in short, half over the world. Bat since we have met,” continued the captain, “let us forget the past, and be friends. We are not too old to make our fortunes yet. We may be useful to each other. I have a project in my head.” “* What is it?” Faddle looked first at Dick and then towards the door. The latter understood the hint, and walked quietly out, but instantly returned, to inform Wilmott that some one was asking for his wife. “Who is it?” he demanded. *‘ An old rogue whe was once a sort of a rival of mine-—a fellow from your uncle’s factory, sir.” “How,” said the astonished Wilmott, “do you know me?” “Why, have you forgotten Dick, my old servant, the most convenient rogue that ever brushed a coat or carried a billet-doux—Dick, who married Nancy?’ “ Ay, I remember; and who is this man?" “ Pike, sir,” “What doeshe want with Rese?” ** He has a letter for her,'I bslieve,” “Show him in,” said Faddle; “we will see him here.” The order was given in too peremptory a tone to be disputed, and in a few moments the obsequious Dick, who felt that he was no longer master in his own house, if the cellar deserved such a name, re- turned, ushering in his old acquaintance Pike, “Now,” said Wilmott, “you want to see my wife?” at I do. ” . “For what purpose ?”’ *T have a letter for her.”’ “Give it to me.” “No, I shan’t.” : This was uttered with an eir of such marked dis- respect, that his old master felt stung to the quick, and fixing his eyes sternly upon him, asked him if he had forgotten him. * Oh no,” replied the man carelessly; “I know you well enough ; ; you are my first master’s son, Richard Wilmott, the bankrupt and spendthrift.” “ And who are you?” demanded Wilmott, calmly; “a fellow whom my father took a starving orphan from the streets, fed, clothed, educated, made a man of, Whatever my follies or crimes, you, sir, ought to blush to stand covered before that father’s son.” “TJ am sure,” said the old man, removing his hat, “T did not mean to offend you; but I was told te give the letter into your wife’s own hand,” ** Who is it from?” “My master, Walter Maynard.” “From him!” exclaimed Wilmott. “ Give it me!” “Perhaps he will require a little persuasion,” said Faddle, drawing a clasp knife from his pocket, and opening the long blade. “No, no,” eagerly exclaimed the oldman, “I want none of your persuasion. Here’s the letter.’ Wilmott took it mechanically, and said, with a bitterness he could ill conceal: **So Walter Maynard is now your master?” “Factory and fifty thousand pounds!” ejaculated Pike, maliciously. ‘To-morrow morning all will be THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. his. I saw the money myself in the counting- house.” oi” ‘‘In the counting-house?” said Faddle; and his eyes and Wilmott’s met with a peculiar expression. “Well,” said the latter, ‘“‘you have performed your errand, Leave me.” «Oh, I bave no wish te intrude. ” 4 With these words the crabbed old man, iid had | never liked his young master, left the house, secretly | — pleased at the strait to which fortune had reduced | — him. No sooner had he left the cellars than who marked his departure, and recognised him, despite the change of years, approached the door leading to the inner room, and applied her ear to the keyhole. She remembered Faddle at a glance; and, in the impulse of terror and disgust, had drawn her shawl over her ; head to avoid recegnition. | “Won't you read the letter 2” demanded Faddle | | of his companion. With a trembling hand tile wretétiel man broka | the seal. It contained a note for fifty pounds, and the | _ following lines hastily traced. The broken charac- | ters, so different from Walter’s usual clerkly steady | hand, showed how deeply agitated he had been while penning them :— “ ROSE, “‘ My present happiness has not rendered me inser- sible to the welfare of one once so dear to me, En- | closed is a bill for fifty pounds. Useit wisely, | “ Youre, ‘i WALTER Maynarp, "ty, “ Kifty sis !” exclaimed Dick, wit a whistle, “¢ Charity ! charity f and from iy iy ” groaned Wil- mott. “Fifty pounds!” whispered Fonale: ebidig: over to his dupe and letting his words fall ‘like poison in his ear; “what is fifty pounds — thousands are within our reach?” ‘What mean you?” * You heard old Pike’s Donat jit now?” ce I did. P “The money,” said the tempter, slowly, as if he | f weighed every word he uttered, ‘is all in the eount- , ing-house, ready to be paid to the man who has : taken your place, to-morrow.” | “What then?” demanded Wilmott, enw iilinig,” to understand him. : “You know the premises.” , 27 ‘‘ Every lock and bar are familiar to‘me.”’ _ ‘¢ What should prevent us then from doing ourselves | an act of justice and righting the wrongs of fortune? | Fifty thousand pounds in a foreign land would be | fortune enough for both of us,” 4% “Ay; or, for the matter of that,” added Dick, “forall three of us. You may stare—but it is time that I spoke | © out. Iam weary of the life I lead in England. If yon | like to let me join you in this enterprise, well and } good. You know you can rely on my fidelity.” “The fellow may be usefal,” whispered his old master to his companion. ‘Come, man, whew you? your fortunes are desperate. As for pad pounds you have received—what is the use ¢ pounds ?—gone in a month or two.” ; “But this is theft!’ exclaimed Wilmott. M dishonourable theft!” 1] me ‘s Ts it worse than murder ?” Fie These words produced an electrical effect upon the still hesitating Wilmott, who remembered that every moment of his stay in England was pregnant with 3 a Aa ns an , con Gomichbooks