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Penny Dreadfuls, 1890 · page 12 of 68

The Armourer's Apprentice — page 12: what you’re looking at

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The Armourer's Apprentice — page 12: Penny Dreadfuls, 1890

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= *.* yr : ad i, id / = ey ~~. f oak . i al A | 6 FF 7 4 - . ° # r * , ae . - 4 a of - * Ae ; 7, : ad ie .. es af Jit: ms 2/7. Ps : a Ty Tes . oo , ¢ —- ~ oo 7 f a I fn We ou , J ; : P hp ~ a * j . 2 . *~ a * : “ a : hse . » As _- ° . ° .* Fe , * s . p 7 r 4 'd 4 § : ; Ye re . _’ ? a . - & v - ° ae ve : 7. Yy ¥, x yeas ¢ his rey eae 2 7S "7 “ey cAl ¥ .¥ ; ‘, ” THE ARMOURER'S APPRENTICE. 10 appointed you armourer to his majesty’ Here is your commission, Goodman Smith. . You must be ready to start at sunset. The meeting-place is at Smithfield. There,” he continued, as he brought forth a written document and handed it to the smith, “there 1s the king’s commission. You are to take with you what assistance you like. Your pay will be large on earth, and your reward threefold in heaven.” ““This—this 1s your doing,” muttered the smith between his teeth. “Ah! you should be thankful—indeed you should,” Soe Will. “So thankful,” said Robert Smith, “ that Jj will not fail to return your kindness a thousand times over, and in the same spirit. I wiil be equal with you yet.” “JT do not need your thanks,” laughed Will. “I only did this, as I thought it would be safer that you should be with us, than left here to carry out your plot, what- ever that may be. But go now, Master Smith, and prepare your dame for the separation, i will wait outside with my men until you are ready.” Nodding to the smith, Master Will o’ the Bow quitted the smithy. | “Does this fellow know aught of my secret?” muttered’ the smith, “It cannot be that he jhath learned my deep wrongs, and would baulk my vengeance. It is im- - possible. But I will be prepared for the worst, and if it be so my dagger shall end my wrongs.” _ Thrusting the king’s warrant into his _ bosom he entered the house. CHAPYER II. RUFUS THE RIP APPEARS iN HIS TRUE _ CHARACTER—-HOW THE LORD DE COUR- CY LAID A MOST ARTFUL PLOT AND GEORGE WYNYARD AGREED TO IT— TREACHERY. ow = (AYO sooner was the smithy vacated by Will and the smith than Rufus the Rip crawled out of the ash-pit. His evil- looking little face was screwed up with a look of the greatest cunning as he tapped the side of his nose with his fore-finger. “Good!” he chuckled—“ very good! I know some secrets now that Master George Wynyard and my Lord de Courcy will pay me well for. I will just creep oui and let them know my news. So the king hath taken to this Stephen. Fortune always favours him. Who would have believed that he could have escaped so often from the traps that { have laid for him, aided by _. Wynyard and De Courcy ? I have let them “e a ey ae ee a SEEN SRL, “OA Ora a} 8 ~ ¥ eit 4 eS Soe know ell his movements by signals, and they have engaged men to beat and kill © him, and yet he hath always escaped. ~ There must be witcheraft init. I will see what Master George is up to, and then away to Master Wynyard to tell him the news.” iy We aha Having thus determined on his planof action the little wretch slipped out of the — smithy, and, creeping cautiously down a | passage, managed to reach a back door, ou§ of which he glided so stealthily that he | was able to place himself at the back ofan ~~ arbour without disturbing the occupants, who were no other than Stephen and Alice. — “You will be true to me, Alice?” de-— manded Stephen. “Nothing shall ever — change you?” pO SE ian rae “Nothing, dear Stephen. But you are now upon the high road to fortune. Ifyou should gain a great name, and have weal hY Are and honour showered upon you, would you — not speedily forget the poor daughterofian — armourer ?” ie “Think not so meanly of me, Alice,” _ cried the young fellow. “You have been the guiding star to all myfortunes. Was it oa not to win a smile from you that I shot — with such good will for the silver arrow, a, and by doing so won the prince’s—now the king’s—favour? So all my good fortuneI must attribute to you, and proud shall Tbe the day when I can lay all J possess at your feet. Till that day comes, Alice, take this dagger that I have made for you. Keep it ever at your side, and think of me ~ as often as your eyes light uponit. Hark! — I am called, Alice—I must not stay. Fare- well, darling—farewell. Pray heaven we may meet again soon!” sie One hasty embrace, and the young fellow | tore himself away from the weeping girl — and hurried back to the smithy, where he found Will and the armourer waiting for — Brief was the farewell whichthe armourer — % took oi his wife and daughter. Yieis % | He kissed the gir!, and bade her not weep, he but to cheer up her mother. Then, leading » his wife on one side he said— “Margery, thou knowest my will. secret must be kept. Let nothing everin- ~ duce you to breathe a word of it—aye! or even hint a thing to clear up this mystery.” — “Oh! husband,” sobbed the poor woman, — “do not carry your terrible revenges so far. Oh! Robert, Robert, bethink you that you are going where dangers will encircle you, 4: and where death will meet you at every turn. Repent—repent, dear Robert. Let us forgive as we hope to be forgiven. Confess — iY: all, and let the boy—” , See oS “ Silence !” hissed the armourer between ie ‘ abt his teeth, “Had I not listened to thee J ' . « * Pd * rae ? aS lL. SNe chook