The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

76 ‘‘T congratulate you, my boy,” he said, when Harold had finished speaking, “I congratalate you on having been elected to a poet which is really honourable. And again, I applaud your foresight. J see plainly, as well as you, this fact—Gregory Anvil, the blacksmith, Richard Langham’s master, is accounted the cleverest blacksmith in London, besides being a secret and close man. I will wager, then, that Lord Raymond having taken this lady prisoner, will employ Gregory to forge the bolts to keep her secure.” ‘That is what I thought,” said Harold. ‘You thought right. Now, if you are re- solved to run risk for her sake, I blame you not. Go, and my blessing with you. But take care, Trust no one; not even Richard Lang- ham, and remember the watch-word of the Royalist to-night—‘ Till Death.’ ” With this advice well at his heart Harold sat out, and making his way towards Fleet Street soon reached the spet which had been appointed. by Dick Langham for their rendezvous. The blacksmith’s apprentice advanced eagerly towards him from a dark corner. “Tam glad you are come,” he said; “I am going alone, and I feel somewhat nervous, I heard my master speak of danger. Now you know, Harold, I am no coward, but single- handed one can do nothing.” ‘‘Well, I am here,’ said Harold; “ where 1s the carriage 7” ‘It is here round the corner,” returned Richard. They at once proceeded to the next street. The carriage was in waiting ; two grim men on the box. One of them advanced to Richard. ‘Whom bring you ?” “A friend,” He then turned to Harold. “ What is the watch-word ?” “ Till Death |” Dick Langham started. ‘* How know you that ?” he asked ‘‘T cannot tell,’’ returned Harold, in a whieper ; ‘‘snffice it that I know it and that it will be my pledge of safety.”’ They had no further time for parley. The men helped them into the carriage, linen bandages were placed over their eyes, and then the vehicle moved off. They proceeded for some distance along a dark road—it might have been mid day for all they could see—until they arrived before the gates of a great mansion surrounded by gloomy walls, and a courtyard whose uneven pavement was overgrown by weeds and grass. Into this courtyard the vehicle lumbered, and the two boys were handed out, still blindfolded. ‘ Pass on, Hubert,” said one of the men to the other, ‘‘ we can bring the bars in afterwards.” Led into the hall of the mansion, they were conducted up a staircase into a large bed-cham- ber with two high windows. Here the bandages were removed, and they could tell what kind of place they were in. It was aspacious chamber, furnished in a quaint and antique style, with grim pictures glaring down from the walls upon the glazed wood of the floors, and the prim, high-backed chairs, and the white bed—portraits whose eyes THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, seemed to follow the young apprentices as they moved. One in particular they noticed. It was near to a sccend door and opposite the entrance through which they had been led in, and was a portrait of James I., King of England. It was splendidly executed, and seemed as if it were alive. “This isthe room where the work is to be done,” said the man, who had now placed on a black mask ; “the bars are to be fitted to those windows, twelve to each—six lenghtways and six crossways. The iron will be brought to you. You understand your work and will require no assistance. There is no occasion for hurry, and refreshments will be sent you.” The boys were now busily preparing their tools. Harold’s experience in the armourer’s work- shop, although not so hard as that of Langham’s at the forge of Gregory Anvil, made him able to assist in the labour which was now set before them, and, as soon as the bars were brought in, they began in good earnest. They had fitted in twelve bars, and were rest- ing, when Langham’s attention was attracted by the pictures round the walls, ‘‘T wonder if these are family portraits?” said he, ‘They're ugly enough some of them, I’m sure,”’ ‘Yes; but I think I recognize one.” ‘Which is that ?” ‘The one above that of King James.” ‘* What, that dark-loking man with the black hair ?” “Yes, Do you not know him ?” “No. I have never seen him. Who is it?” “The portrait is badly done,” said Harold. ‘But, if [ mistake not, it is meant for my Lord Raymond,” “ What, the Royalist spy, the one. who carried off my Lady Blanche Villiers?” ‘‘ Yes, I believe it is 80.” ‘‘It would be strange were it so,’’ mused Langham, aloud, “‘ strange if we had diseovered thus the very spot where she is concealed.” Suddenly he started. Then, taking Harold by the arm, hc drew suddenly away to the window. ‘What ails you?” said Harold, observing his companion’'s flushed face, ‘Dont look round,” said Langham, in an excited whisper, “don’t look round. Zhe cycs of James I, are moving 2" “What mean you ?” asked Harold. “7 mean,” said the blacksmith's apprentice, “that there is a man concealed behind that picture watching us. We must be careful, for the same holes which admit of his seeing admit also of his firing on us. Let us work on.” “Yes,” said Harold, ‘or, rather, let us ring this bell, and ask for some refreshment, We can see, then, if this is a fact.” Harold rang the bell. In a moment, as if some one had been waiting outside, a man entered. “ What is it?” he asked. “We are weary and require refreshment,” said Harold. " Without any reply the man passed out once more, and in a few minutes came back with a 1 en ® , *=")) CONTE DO OKSEEOln