FLINT JACKSON.
Farnham hops are world-famous, or at least famous in that huge portion
of the world where English ale is drunk, and whereon, I have a thousand
times heard and read, the sun never sets. The name, therefore, of the
pleasant Surrey village, in and about which the events I am about to
relate occurred, is, I may fairly presume, known to many of my readers.
I was ordered to Farnham, to investigate a case of burglary, committed
in the house of a gentleman of the name of Hursley, during the temporary
absence of the family, which had completely nonplussed the unpractised
Dogberrys of the place, albeit it was not a riddle at all difficult to
read. The premises, it was quickly plain to me, had been broken, not
into, but out of; and a watch being set upon the motions of the very
specious and clever person left in charge of the house and property, it
was speedily discovered that the robbery had been effected by herself
and a confederate, of the name of Dawkins, her brother-in-law. Some of
the stolen goods were found secreted at his lodgings; but the most
valuable portion, consisting of plate, and a small quantity of jewelry,
had disappeared: it had questionless been converted into money, as
considerable sums, in sovereigns, were found upon both Dawkins and the
woman, Sarah Purday. Now, as it had been clearly ascertained that
neither of the prisoners had left Farnham since the burglary, it was
manifest there was a receiver near at hand who had purchased the
missing articles. Dawkins and Purday were, however, dumb as stones upon
the subject; and nothing occurred to point suspicion till early in the
evening previous to the second examination of the prisoners before the
magistrates, when Sarah Purday asked for pen, ink, and paper, for the
purpose of writing to one Mr. Jackson, in whose service she had formerly
lived. I happened to be at the prison, and of course took the liberty of
carefully unsealing her note and reading it. It revealed nothing; and
save by its extremely cautious wording, and abrupt peremptory tone,
coming from a servant to her former master, suggested nothing. I had
carefully reckoned the number of sheets of paper sent into the cell, and
now on recounting them found that three were missing. The turnkey
returned immediately, and asked for the two other letters she had
written. The woman denied having written any other, and for proof
pointed to the torn fragments of the missing sheets lying on the floor.
These were gathered up and brought to me, but I could make nothing out
of them, every word having been carefully run through with the pen, and
converted into an unintelligible blot. The request contained in the
actually-written letter was one simple enough in itself, merely, "that
Mr. Jackson would not on any account fail to provide her, in
consideration of past services, with legal assistance on the morrow."
The first nine words were strongly underlined; and I made out after a
good deal of trouble that the word "pretence" had been partially
effaced, and "account" substituted for it.
"She need not have wasted three sheets of paper upon such a nonsensical
request as that," observed the turnkey. "Old Jackson wouldn't shell out
sixpence to save her or anybody else from the gallows."
"I am of a different opinion; but tell me, what sort of a person is this
former master of hers?"
"All I know about him is that he's a cross-grained, old curmudgeon,
living about a mile out of Farnham, who scrapes money together by
lending small sums upon notes-of-hand at short dates, and at a
thundering interest. Flint Jackson folk about here call him."
"At all events, forward the letter at once, and to-morrow we shall
see--what we shall see. Good-evening."
It turned out as I anticipated. A few minutes after the prisoners were
brought into the justice-room, a Guilford solicitor of much local
celebrity arrived, and announced that he appeared for both the
inculpated parties. He was allowed a private conference with them, at
the close of which he stated that his clients would reserve their
defence. They were at once committed for trial, and I overheard the
solicitor assure the woman that the ablest counsel on the circuit would
be retained in their behalf.
I had no longer a doubt that it was my duty to know something further of
this suddenly-generous Flint Jackson, though how to set about it was a
matter of considerable difficulty. There was no legal pretence for a
search-warrant, and I doubted the prudence of proceeding upon my own
responsibility with so astute an old fox as Jackson was represented to
be; for, supposing him to be a confederate with the burglars, he had by
this time in all probability sent the stolen property away--to London in
all likelihood; and should I find nothing, the consequences of
ransacking his house merely because he had provided a former servant
with legal assistance would be serious. Under these circumstances I
wrote to headquarters for instructions, and by return of post received
orders to prosecute the inquiry thoroughly, but cautiously, and to
consider time as nothing so long as there appeared a chance of fixing
Jackson with the guilt of receiving the plunder. Another suspicious
circumstance that I have omitted to notice in its place was that the
Guilford solicitor tendered bail for the prisoners to any reasonable
amount, and named Enoch Jackson as one of the securities. Bail was,
however, refused.
There was no need for over-hurrying the business, as the prisoners were
committed to the Surrey Spring Assizes, and it was now the season of the
hop-harvest--a delightful and hilarious period about Farnham when the
weather is fine and the yield abundant. I, however, lost no time in
making diligent and minute inquiry as to the character and habits of
Jackson, and the result was a full conviction that nothing but the fear
of being denounced as an accomplice could have induced such a miserly,
iron-hearted rogue to put himself to charges in defence of the
imprisoned burglars.
One afternoon, whilst pondering the matter, and at the same time
enjoying the prettiest and cheerfulest of rural sights, that of
hop-picking, the apothecary at whose house I was lodging--we will call
him Mr. Morgan; he _was_ a Welshman--tapped me suddenly on the shoulder,
and looking sharply round, I perceived he had something he deemed of
importance to communicate.
"What is it?" I said quickly.
"The oddest thing in the world. There's Flint Jackson, his deaf old
woman, and the young people lodging with him, all drinking and boozing
away at yon alehouse."
"Shew them to me, if you please."
A few minutes brought us to the place of boisterous entertainment, the
lower room of which was suffocatingly full of tipplers and
tobacco-smoke. We nevertheless contrived to edge ourselves in; and my
companion stealthily pointed out the group, who were seated together
near the farther window, and then left me to myself.
The appearance of Jackson entirely answered to the popular prefix of
Flint attached to his name. He was a wiry, gnarled, heavy-browed,
iron-jawed fellow of about sixty, with deep-set eyes aglow with sinister
and greedy instincts. His wife, older than he, and so deaf apparently as
the door of a dungeon, wore a simpering, imbecile look of wonderment, it
seemed to me, at the presence of such unusual and abundant cheer. The
young people, who lodged with Jackson, were really a very frank, honest,
good-looking couple, though not then appearing to advantage--the
countenance of Henry Rogers being flushed and inflamed with drink, and
that of his wife's clouded with frowns, at the situation in which she
found herself, and the riotous conduct of her husband. Their brief
history was this:--They had both been servants in a family living not
far distant from Farnham--Sir Thomas Lethbridge's, I understood--when
about three or four months previous to the present time, Flint Jackson,
who had once been in an attorney's office, discovered that Henry Rogers,
in consequence of the death of a distant relative in London, was
entitled to property worth something like £1500. There were, however,
some law-difficulties in the way, which Jackson offered, if the business
was placed in his hands, to overcome for a consideration, and in the
meantime to supply board and lodging and such necessary sums of money as
Henry Rogers might require. With this brilliant prospect in view service
became at once utterly distasteful. The fortunate legatee had for some
time courted Mary Elkins, one of the ladies' maids, a pretty,
bright-eyed brunette; and they were both united in the bonds of holy
matrimony on the very day the "warnings" they had given expired. Since
then they had lived at Jackson's house in daily expectation of their
"fortune," with which they proposed to start in the public line.
Finding myself unrecognized, I called boldly for a pot and a pipe, and
after some manoeuvring contrived to seat myself within ear-shot of
Jackson and his party. They presented a strange study. Henry Rogers was
boisterously excited, and not only drinking freely himself, but treating
a dozen fellows round him, the cost of which he from time to time called
upon "Old Flint," as he courteously styled his ancient friend, to
discharge.
"Come, fork out, Old Flint!" he cried again and again. "It'll be all
right, you know, in a day or two, and a few half-pence over. Shell out,
old fellow! What signifies, so you're happy?"
Jackson complied with an affectation of acquiescent gaiety ludicrous to
behold. It was evident that each successive pull at his purse was like
wrenching a tooth out of his head, and yet while the dismalest of smiles
wrinkled his wolfish mouth, he kept exclaiming: "A fine lad--a fine lad!
generous as a prince! Good Lord, another round! He minds money no more
than as if gold was as plentiful as gravel! But a fine generous lad for
all that!"
Jackson, I perceived, drank considerably, as if incited thereto by
compressed savageness. The pretty young wife would not taste a drop, but
tears frequently filled her eyes, and bitterness pointed her words as
she vainly implored her husband to leave the place and go home with her.
To all her remonstrances the maudlin drunkard replied only by foolery,
varied occasionally by an attempt at a line or two of the song of "The
Thorn."
"But you _will_ plant thorns, Henry," rejoined the provoked wife in a
louder and angrier tone than she ought perhaps to have used--"not only
in my bosom, but your own, if you go on in this sottish, disgraceful
way."
"Always quarreling, always quarreling!" remarked Jackson, pointedly,
towards the bystanders--"_always_ quarreling!"
"Who is always quarreling?" demanded the young wife sharply. "Do you
mean me and Henry?"
"I was only saying, my dear, that you don't like your husband to be so
generous and free-hearted--that's all," replied Jackson, with a
confidential wink at the persons near him.
"Free-hearted and generous! Fool-hearted and crazy, you mean!" rejoined
the wife, who was much excited. "And you ought to be ashamed of yourself
to give him money for such brutish purposes."
"Always quarreling, always quarreling!" iterated Jackson, but this time
unheard by Mrs. Rogers--"_always_, perpetually quarreling!"
I could not quite comprehend all this. If so large a sum as £1500 was
really coming to the young man, why should Jackson wince as he did at
disbursing small amounts which he could repay himself with abundant
interest? If otherwise--and it was probable he should not be
repaid--what meant his eternal, "fine generous lad!" "spirited young
man!" and so on? What, above all, meant that look of diabolical hate
which shot out from his cavernous eyes towards Henry Rogers when he
thought himself unobserved, just after satisfying a fresh claim on his
purse? Much practice in reading the faces and deportment of such men
made it pretty clear to me that Jackson's course of action respecting
the young man and his money was not yet decided upon in his own mind;
that he was still perplexed and irresolute; and hence the apparent
contradiction in his words and acts.
Henry Rogers at length dropped asleep with his head upon one of the
settle-tables; Jackson sank into sullen silence; the noisy room grew
quiet; and I came away.
I was impressed with a belief that Jackson entertained some sinister
design against his youthful and inexperienced lodgers and I determined
to acquaint them with my suspicions. For this purpose Mr. Morgan, who
had a patient living near Jackson's house, undertook to invite them to
tea on some early evening, on the pretence that he had heard of a tavern
that might suit them when they should receive their fortune. Let me
confess, too, that I had another design besides putting the young people
on their guard against Jackson. I thought it very probable that it would
not be difficult to glean from them some interesting and suggestive
particulars concerning the ways, means, practices, outgoings and
incomings, of their worthy landlord's household.
Four more days passed unprofitably away, and I was becoming weary of the
business, when about five o'clock in the afternoon the apothecary
galloped up to his door on a borrowed horse, jumped off with surprising
celerity, and with a face as white as his own magnesia, burst out as he
hurried into the room where I was sitting: "Here's a pretty kettle of
fish! Henry Rogers has been poisoned, and by his wife!"
"Poisoned!"
"Yes, poisoned; although, thanks to my being on the spot I think he will
recover. But I must instantly to Dr. Edwards: I will tell you all when I
return."
The promised "all" was this: Morgan was passing slowly by Jackson's
house, in the hope of seeing either Mr. or Mrs. Rogers, when the
servant-woman, Jane Riddet, ran out and begged him to come in, as their
lodger had been taken suddenly ill. Ill indeed! The surface of his body
was cold as death, and the apothecary quickly discovered that he had
been poisoned with sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol), a quantity of which
he, Morgan, had sold a few days previously to Mrs. Rogers, who, when
purchasing it, said Mr. Jackson wanted it to apply to some warts that
annoyed him. Morgan fortunately knew the proper remedy, and desired
Jackson, who was in the room, and seemingly very anxious and flurried,
to bring some soap instantly, a solution of which he proposed to give
immediately to the seemingly dying man. The woman-servant was gone to
find Mrs. Rogers, who had left about ten minutes before, having first
made the tea in which the poison had been taken. Jackson hurried out of
the apartment, but was gone so long that Morgan, becoming impatient,
scraped a quantity of plaster off the wall, and administered it with the
best effect. At last Jackson came back, and said there was unfortunately
not a particle of soap in the house. A few minutes afterwards the young
wife, alarmed at the woman-servant's tidings, flew into the room in an
agony of alarm and grief. Simulated alarm, crocodile grief, Mr. Morgan
said; for there could, in his opinion, be no doubt that she had
attempted to destroy her husband. Mr. Jackson, on being questioned,
peremptorily denied that he had ever desired Mrs. Rogers to procure
sulphuric acid for him, or had received any from her--a statement which
so confounded the young woman that she instantly fainted. The upshot was
that Mrs. Rogers was taken into custody and lodged in prison.
This terrible news flew through Farnham like wild-fire. In a few minutes
it was upon everybody's tongue: the hints of the quarrelsome life the
young couple led, artfully spread by Jackson, were recalled, and no
doubt appeared to be entertained of the truth of the dreadful charge. I
had no doubt either, but my conviction was not that of the Farnham folk.
This, then, was the solution of the struggle I had seen going on in
Jackson's mind; this the realization of the dark thought which I had
imperfectly read in the sinister glances of his restless eyes. He had
intended to destroy both the husband and wife--the one by poison, and
the other by the law! Doubtless, then, the £1500 had been obtained, and
this was the wretched man's infernal device for retaining it! I went
over with Morgan early the next morning to see the patient, and found
that, thanks to the prompt antidote administered, and Dr. Edwards'
subsequent active treatment, he was rapidly recovering. The
still-suffering young man, I was glad to find, would not believe for a
moment in his wife's guilt. I watched the looks and movements of Jackson
attentively--a scrutiny which he, now aware of my vocation, by no means
appeared to relish.
"Pray," said I, suddenly addressing Riddet, the woman-servant--"pray,
how did it happen that you had no soap in such a house as this yesterday
evening?"
"No soap!" echoed the woman, with a stare of surprise. "Why"----
"No--no soap," hastily broke in her master with loud and menacing
emphasis. "There was not a morsel in the house. I bought some afterwards
in Farnham."
The cowed and bewildered woman slunk away. I was more than satisfied;
and judging by Jackson's countenance, which changed beneath my look to
the color of the lime-washed wall against which he stood, he surmised
that I was.
My conviction, however, was not evidence, and I felt that I should need
even more than my wonted good-fortune to bring the black crime home to
the real perpetrator. For the present, at all events, I must keep
silence--a resolve I found hard to persist in at the examination of the
accused wife, an hour or two afterwards, before the county magistrates.
Jackson had hardened himself to iron, and gave his lying evidence with
ruthless self-possession. He had _not_ desired Mrs. Rogers to purchase
sulphuric acid; had _not_ received any from her. In addition also to his
testimony that she and her husband were always quarreling, it was proved
by a respectable person that high words had passed between them on the
evening previous to the day the criminal offence was committed, and that
foolish, passionate expressions had escaped her about wishing to be rid
of such a drunken wretch. This evidence, combined with the medical
testimony, appeared so conclusive to the magistrates, that spite of the
unfortunate woman's wild protestations of innocence, and the rending
agony which convulsed her frame, and almost choked her utterence, she
was remanded to prison till that day-week, when, the magistrates
informed her, she would be again brought up for the merely formal
completion of the depositions, and be then fully committed on the
capital charge.
I was greatly disturbed, and walked for two or three hours about the
quiet neighborhood of Farnham, revolving a hundred fragments of schemes
for bringing the truth to light, without arriving at any feasible
conclusion. One only mode of procedure seemed to offer, and that but
dimly, a hope of success. It was, however, the best I could hit upon,
and I directed my steps towards the Farnham prison. Sarah Purday had not
yet, I remembered, been removed to the county jail at Guilford.
"Is Sarah Purday," I asked the turnkey, "more reconciled to her position
than she was?"
"She's just the same--bitter as gall, and venomous as a viper."
This woman, I should state, was a person of fierce will and strong
passions, and in early life had been respectably situated.
"Just step into her cell," I continued, "upon some excuse or other, and
carelessly drop a hint that if she could prevail upon Jackson to get her
brought by _habeas_ before a judge in London, there could be no doubt of
her being bailed."
The man stared, but after a few words of pretended explanation, went off
to do as I requested. He was not long gone. "She's all in a twitteration
at the thoughts of it," he said; "and must have pen, ink, and paper,
without a moment's delay, bless her consequence!"
These were supplied; and I was soon in possession of her letter, couched
cautiously, but more peremptorily than the former one. I need hardly say
it did not reach its destination. She passed the next day in a state of
feverish impatience; and no answer returning, wrote again, her words
this time conveying an evident though indistinct threat. I refrained
from visiting her till two days had thus passed, and found her, as I
expected, eaten up with fury. She glared at me as I entered the cell
like a chained tigress.
"You appear vexed," I said, "no doubt because Jackson declines to get
you bailed. He ought not to refuse you such a trifling service,
considering all things."
"All what things?" replied the woman, eyeing me fiercely.
"That you know best, though I have a shrewd guess."
"What do you guess? and what are you driving at?"
"I will deal frankly with you, Sarah Purday. In the first place, you
must plainly perceive that your _friend_ Jackson has cast you
off--abandoned you to your fate; and that fate will, there can be no
doubt, be transportation."
"Well," she impatiently snarled, "suppose so; what then?"
"This--that you can help yourself in this difficulty by helping me."
"As how?"
"In the first place, give me the means of convicting Jackson of having
received the stolen property."
"Ha! How do you know that?"
"Oh, I know it very well--as well almost as you do. But this is not my
chief object; there is another far more important one," and I ran over
the incidents relative to the attempt at poisoning. "Now," I resumed,
"tell me, if you will, your opinion on this matter."
"That it was Jackson administered the poison, and certainly not the
young woman," she replied with vengeful promptness.
"My own conviction! This, then, is my proposition:--you are
sharp-witted, and know this fellow's ways, habits, and propensities
thoroughly--I, too, have heard something of them--and it strikes me that
you could suggest some plan, some device grounded on that knowledge,
whereby the truth might come to light."
The woman looked fixedly at me for some time without speaking. As I
meant fairly and honestly by her I could bear her gaze without
shrinking.
"Supposing I could assist you," she at last said, "how would that help
me?"
"It would help you greatly. You would no doubt be still convicted of the
burglary, for the evidence is irresistible; but if in the meantime you
should have been instrumental in saving the life of an innocent person,
and of bringing a great criminal to justice, there cannot be a question
that the Queen's mercy would be extended to you, and the punishment be
merely a nominal one."
"If I were sure of that!" she murmured with a burning scrutiny in her
eyes, which were still fixed upon my countenance--"if I were sure of
that! But you are misleading me."
"Believe me, I am not. I speak in perfect sincerity. Take time to
consider the matter. I will look in again in about an hour; and pray, do
not forget that it is your sole and last chance."
I left her, and did not return till more than three hours had passed
away. Sarah Purday was pacing the cell in a frenzy of inquietude.
"I thought you had forgotten me. Now," she continued with rapid
vehemence, "tell me, on your word and honor as a man, do you truly
believe that if I can effectually assist you it will avail me with Her
Majesty?"
"I am as positive it will as I am of my own life."
"Well, then, I _will_ assist you. First, then, Jackson was a confederate
with Dawkins and myself, and received the plate and jewelry, for which
he paid us less than one-third of the value."
"Rogers and his wife were not, I hope, cognizant of this?"
"Certainly not; but Jackson's wife, and the woman-servant, Riddet,
were. I have been turning the other business over in my mind," she
continued, speaking with increasing emotion and rapidity; "and oh,
believe me, Mr. Waters, if you can, that it is not solely a selfish
motive which induces me to aid in saving Mary Rogers from destruction. I
was once myself---- Ah God!"
Tears welled up to the fierce eyes, but they were quickly brushed away,
and she continued somewhat more calmly:--"You have heard, I dare say,
that Jackson has a strange habit of talking in his sleep?"
"I have, and that he once consulted Morgan as to whether there was any
cure for it. It was that which partly suggested"----
"It is, I believe, a mere fancy of his," she interrupted; "or at any
rate the habit is not so frequent, nor what he says so intelligible, as
he thoroughly believes and fears it, from some former circumstances, to
be. His deaf wife cannot undeceive him, and he takes care never even to
doze except in her presence only."
"This is not, then, so promising as I hoped."
"Have patience. It is full of promise, as we will manage. Every evening
Jackson frequents a low gambling-house, where he almost invariably wins
small sums at cards--by craft, no doubt, as he never drinks there. When
he returns home at about ten o'clock, his constant habit is to go into
the front-parlor, where his wife is sure to be sitting at that hour. He
carefully locks the door, helps himself to brandy and water--plentifully
of late--and falls asleep in his arm-chair; and there they both doze
away, sometimes till one o'clock--always till past twelve."
"Well; but I do not see how"----
"Hear me out, if you please. Jackson never wastes a candle to drink or
sleep by, and at this time of the year there will be no fire. If he
speaks to his wife he does not expect her, from her wooden deafness, to
answer him. Do you begin to perceive my drift?"
"Upon my word, I do not."
"What; if upon awaking, Jackson finds that his wife is Mr. Waters, and
that Mr. Waters relates to him all that he has disclosed in his sleep:
that Mr. Hursley's plate is buried in the garden near the lilac-tree;
that he, Jackson, received a thousand pounds six weeks ago of Henry
Roger's fortune, and that the money is now in the recess on the
top-landing, the key of which is in his breast-pocket; that he was the
receiver of the plate stolen from a house in the close at Salisbury a
twelvemonth ago, and sold in London for four hundred and fifty pounds.
All this hurled at him," continued the woman with wild energy and
flashing eyes, "what else might not a bold, quick-witted man make him
believe he had confessed, revealed in his brief sleep?"
I had been sitting on a bench; but as these rapid disclosures burst from
her lips, and I saw the use to which they might be turned, I rose slowly
and in some sort involuntarily to my feet, lifted up, as it were, by the
energy of her fiery words.
"God reward you!" I exclaimed, shaking both her hands in mine. "You
have, unless I blunder, rescued an innocent woman from the scaffold. I
see it all. Farewell!"
"Mr. Waters," she exclaimed, in a changed, palpitating voice, as I was
passing forth; "when all is done, you will not forget me?"
"That I will not, by my own hope of mercy in the hereafter. Adieu!"
At a quarter past nine that evening I, accompanied by two Farnham
constables, knocked at the door of Jackson's house. Henry Rogers, I
should state, had been removed to the village. The door was opened by
the woman-servant, and we went in. "I have a warrant for your arrest,
Jane Riddet," I said, "as an accomplice in the plate stealing the other
day. There, don't scream, but listen to me." I then intimated the terms
upon which alone she could expect favor. She tremblingly promised
compliance; and after placing the constables outside, in concealment,
but within hearing, I proceeded to the parlor, secured the terrified old
woman, and confined her safely in a distant out-house.
"Now, Riddet," I said, "quick with one of the old lady's gowns, a shawl,
cap, _etcetera_." These were brought, and I returned to the parlor. It
was a roomy apartment, with small, diamond-paned windows, and just then
but very faintly illumined by the star-light. There were two large
high-backed easy-chairs, and I prepared to take possession of the one
recently vacated by Jackson's wife. "You must perfectly understand,"
were my parting words to the trembling servant, "that we intend standing
no nonsense with either you or your master. You cannot escape; but if
you let Mr. Jackson in as usual, and he enters this room as usual, no
harm will befall you: if otherwise, you will be unquestionably
transported. Now, go."
My toilet was not so easily accomplished as I thought it would be. The
gown did not meet at the back by about a foot; that, however, was of
little consequence, as the high-chair concealed the deficiency; neither
did the shortness of the sleeves matter much, as the ample shawl could
be made to hide my too great length of arm; but the skirt was scarcely
lower than a Highlander's, and how the deuce I was to crook my booted
legs up out of view, even in that gloomy starlight, I could hardly
imagine. The cap also was far too small; still, with an ample kerchief
in my hand, my whiskers might, I thought, be concealed. I was still
fidgeting with these arrangements when Jackson knocked at his door. The
servant admitted him without remark, and he presently entered the room,
carefully locked the door, and jolted down, so to speak, in the fellow
easy-chair to mine.
He was silent for a few moments, and then he bawled out: "She'll swing
for it, they say--swing for it, d'ye hear, dame? But no, of course she
don't--deafer and deafer, deafer and deafer every day. It'll be a
precious good job when the parson says his last prayers over her as well
as others."
He then got up, and went to a cupboard. I could hear--for I dared not
look up--by the jingling of glasses and the outpouring of liquids that
he was helping himself to his spirituous sleeping-draughts. He reseated
himself, and drank in moody silence, except now and then mumbling
drowsily to himself, but in so low a tone that I could make nothing out
of it save an occasional curse or blasphemy. It was nearly eleven
o'clock before the muttered self-communing ceased, and his heavy head
sank upon the back of the easy-chair. He was very restless, and it was
evident that even his sleeping brain labored with affrighting and
oppressive images; but the mutterings, as before he slept, were confused
and indistinct. At length--half an hour had perhaps thus passed--the
troubled meanings became for a few moments clearly audible.
"Ha--ha--ha!" he burst out, "how are you off for soap? Ho--ho! done
there, my boy; ha--ha! But no--no. Wall-plaster! Who could have thought
it? But for that I--I---- What do you stare at me so for, you infernal
blue-bottle? You--you"---- Again the dream-utterance sank into
indistinctness, and I comprehended nothing more.
About half-past twelve o'clock he awoke, rose, stretched himself, and
said:--"Come, dame, let's to bed; it's getting chilly here."
"Dame" did not answer, and he again went towards the cupboard. "Here's a
candle-end will do for us," he muttered. A lucifer-match was drawn
across the wall, he lit the candle, and stumbled towards me, for he was
scarcely yet awake. "Come, dame, come! Why, thee beest sleeping like a
dead un! Wake up, will thee---- Ah! murder! thieves! mur"----
My grasp was on the wretch's throat; but there was no occasion to use
force: he recognized me, and nerveless, paralyzed, sank on the floor
incapable of motion much less of resistance, and could only gaze in my
face in dumb affright and horror.
"Give me the key of the recess up stairs, which you carry in your
breast-pocket. In your sleep, unhappy man, you have revealed every
thing."
An inarticulate shriek of terror replied to me. I was silent; and
presently he gasped: "Wha--at, what have I said?"
"That Mr. Hursley's plate is buried in the garden by the lilac-tree;
that you have received a thousand pounds belonging to the man you tried
to poison; that you netted four hundred and fifty pounds by the plate
stolen at Salisbury; that you dexterously contrived to slip the
sulphuric acid into the tea unseen by Henry Roger's wife."
The shriek or scream was repeated, and he was for several moments
speechless with consternation. A ray of hope gleamed suddenly in his
flaming eyes. "It is true--it is true!" he hurriedly ejaculated;
"useless--useless--useless to deny it. But you are alone, and poor,
poor, no doubt. A thousand pounds!--more, more than that: _two_ thousand
pounds in gold--gold, all in gold--I will give you to spare me, to let
me escape!"
"Where did you hide the soap on the day when you confess you tried to
poison Henry Rogers?"
"In the recess you spoke of. But think! Two thousand pounds in gold--all
in gold"----
As he spoke, I suddenly grasped the villain's hands, pressed them
together, and in another instant the snapping of a handcuff pronounced
my answer. A yell of anguish burst from the miserable man, so loud and
piercing, that the constables outside hurried to the outer-door, and
knocked hastily for admittance. They were let in by the servant-woman;
and in half an hour afterwards the three prisoners--Jackson, his wife,
and Jane Riddet--were safe in Farnham prison.
A few sentences will conclude this narrative. Mary Rogers was brought up
on the following day, and, on my evidence, discharged. Her husband, I
have heard, has since proved a better and a wiser man. Jackson was
convicted at the Guilford assize of guiltily receiving the Hursley
plate, and sentenced to transportation for life. This being so, the
graver charge of attempting to poison was not pressed. There was no
moral doubt of his guilt; but the legal proof of it rested solely on his
own hurried confession, which counsel would no doubt have contended
ought not to be received. His wife and the servant were leniently dealt
with.
Sarah Purday was convicted, and sentenced to transportation. I did not
forget my promise; and a statement of the previously-narrated
circumstances having been drawn up and forwarded to the Queen and the
Home Secretary, a pardon, after some delay, was issued. There were
painful circumstances in her history which, after strict inquiry, told
favorably for her. Several benevolent persons interested themselves in
her behalf, and she was sent out to Canada, where she had some
relatives, and has, I believe, prospered there.
This affair caused considerable hubbub at the time, and much admiration
was expressed by the country people at the boldness and dexterity of the
London "runner;" whereas, in fact, the successful result was entirely
attributable to the opportune revelations of Sarah Purday.
Sketches
OF THE
LONDON DETECTIVE FORCE,
FROM
DICKENS' "HOUSEHOLD WORDS."