_THE SHOPS FROM END TO END WERE WIDELY OPEN._
The next morning Helen got up early, gave Robin his breakfast of cold
ham which she had bought in slices, tea and bread and butter. She
also made a capital meal herself. Having washed and put away their
poor breakfast service, which consisted of a cracked old sugar-basin,
a black tea-pot with half a spout, a dinner plate, pewter spoon, and
old knife, she proceeded to tidy herself, and to put on some garments
of a more respectable nature than those she wore on ordinary
occasions. She also made Robin as smart as her resources would
permit. Then taking his hand she went out, locking the attic door
behind her. It was Sunday, and when Helen and Robin got into the
street, they saw some groups of happy-looking children on their way
to Sunday school.
"Are we goin' in the big ship to-day, mother?" enquired the little
boy.
"May-be, may-be, my pet; but don't talk of it," answered Helen.
Her face had an anxious expression to-day; she looked nervously
behind her more than once. Her fine spirits of the night before had
completely deserted her.
The two walked on for some time in silence. Then Helen hailed a
passing omnibus, and mounted on the roof with Robin. This omnibus
took them as far as the Bank. As they passed St. Paul's, they heard
the sweet sound of the bells calling them, and such as them, to
worship God; but neither woman nor child listened or heeded; they
were bound on a very different errand.
When they arrived at the Bank, Helen again took Robin's hand, and
walked quickly with him through the quiet and deserted city into a
very different region. Here she was in well-known quarters, and here
she saw plenty of life and movement. No Sabbath calm met her here.
It was church time--a time when no costermonger who valued his
liberty would dare to remain selling his oranges in Holborn or
Westminster; but here, in Mitre Street, Aldgate, the law which
teaches man to pay some outward respect to the Sabbath seemed neither
to be enforced nor regarded. The shops from end to end were widely
open; the shopkeepers boldly proclaimed their goods; buyers were
bidding, fighting, and pushing their way to newly-discovered
bargains. The streets were actually swarming with costermongers, who
sold cherries, strawberries, ices, and every conceivable and
inconceivable eatable. This busy scene caused Helen not the least
surprise; she walked steadily on through the crowd, nodding now and
then to a chance acquaintance, but entering into conversation with no
one. Anybody who watched her face would have seen that the nervous
expression was more marked there--that she started when each fresh
friend addressed her--that she seemed feverishly anxious to reach her
destination.
It is the law of England that until one o'clock on Sunday morning all
public-houses are obliged to be closed; this law is enforced with
severe punishment to those who transgress it. Nevertheless now, a
little before noon on this Sabbath morning, it was to a tavern or
public-house that Helen bent her steps. No policeman was there to
hinder or say her nay.
Giving Robin a penny to play pitch-and-toss with some other boys, and
telling him to wait for her, she pushed aside the swinging door and
went in. She entered on an unusual scene. This tavern or
public-house was evidently meant to combine a twofold object. The
last things that could apparently be placed in conjunction met here;
the tavern was also a jeweller's shop. It might perhaps be better
described as a second-hand plate and jewel bazaar, to which was
joined a drinking-bar.
Helen, on entering, walked down a passage, and opened another door
covered with green baize. Here she was greeted with an immense cloud
of cigar smoke. In the centre of the room were a crowd of people,
some fifty or sixty, unmistakably Jews. Round the room were ranged
tables literally heaped with precious things--silver spoons, silver
tea and breakfast services, tea-kettles, cups, vases. Watches were
in such numbers that they might have been sold by the half hundred.
On every side brisk business was going on.
When Helen found herself in the midst of this busy, motley crowd she
glanced eagerly round; then, apparently relieved from some anxiety,
marched up with a firm step and business-like air to an old Jew,
whose table, containing rings, brooches, studs, &c., was a little
apart from the others, and pulling out an old purse extracted from it
her treasure--the valuable diamond ring she had shown to Robin the
night before.
The old Jew examined it eagerly, turned it over, flung it on the
counter, took it up again; finally offered Helen fifty pounds for a
gem worth a thousand.
Helen, however, had set her own value on the ring, and was too clever
and knowing to be cheated out of what she considered her due. She
would give the Jew the ring for one hundred sovereigns, paid down in
gold on the spot. Whatever the reason, this offer was not acceded
to; and Helen, with the valuable ring still in her possession, left
the shop to try her fortune elsewhere.
She was excited now, and defiant. Calling Robin, she went along the
street, for a house of a similar character was to be found at the
other end.
Poor Helen! she never thought of danger, when danger of the kind she
most dreaded was at her heels. A policeman now followed her down the
street. When she reached its end, she again told Robin to wait for
her, and promising to return in a few moments, turned the corner.
Then and there she was arrested, and the diamond ring being found on
her person, she was carried off to prison charged with the burglary
she was engaged in two nights before.