“The justice flung them beath in jail—
My faith! what’s duin they’ll sair repent.”
_Bad News._
ON reaching their temporary home, the Sandboys immediately made
inquiries as to whether the French gentleman—M. Le Comte de
Sanschemise—whose card Cursty had received that morning, and to whom he
had given his season ticket for the Exhibition in exchange, had returned
from the Crystal Palace. No tidings, however, were to be obtained of the
gentleman, further than that he had been seen to leave the establishment
shortly after themselves in the morning.
Cursty, when he and his dear Aggy had partaken of some refreshment,
proceeded to take up his residence in one of the rooms immediately
adjoining the hall; and having provided himself with a thick ash stick,
sat himself down to await the coming of the Comte; for the sturdy
mountaineer had made up his mind to have satisfaction for the injuries
of himself and his wife in a very different way from what the Frenchman
demanded or expected.
Aggy, too, who did not fail to attribute her dip in the Serpentine, and
the consequent destruction of her best white chip bonnet and Sunday
front, solely to the abstraction of her husband’s season ticket by M. le
Comte de Sanschemise, was only too glad to wait with Cursty, in hopes of
seeing “the wretch” severely punished for his dishonesty.
But though the determined Mr. Christopher Sandboys sat in the
waiting-room, with his thick ground-ash stick, till long past midnight,
no M. Le Comte made his appearance; and when the want of sleep had got
the better of the Cumberland man’s indignation, he began to think that
he should have many future opportunities of making the Frenchman pay the
penalty of his peccadilloes.
Accordingly, when the exhausted couple heard the hall clock strike two,
they considered it best to retire to rest, and see what luck the morrow
would bring them.
The first inquiry of the Sandboys in the morning was, as to whether the
Comte had entered the establishment in the course of the night? The
answer, unfortunately, was in the negative.
What _could_ have become of the man?
On descending to the breakfast-room, however, their suspense was
speedily put an end to; for the first words uttered by Mrs. Wewitz, to
whom they had communicated the whole of the circumstances immediately on
their return, were concerning the fate of the missing gentleman. She
placed that morning’s paper in Mr. Sandboys hand; and there, in the
police reports, the horrified and enraged Christopher beheld an account
as to how a gentleman, of respectable exterior, who gave the name of Mr.
Cursty Sandboys, had entered the Exhibition, and been detected in the
act of stealing a stiletto, with a silver handle, set with jewels.
Then followed a long account as to how the gentleman, on being committed
for trial, had, on entering the prison, refused to put on the prison
dress; and how, on being divested of his coat, he was found, although
externally “got” up in the most expensive and elaborate manner, to be
literally without a shirt to his back—the wrist-bands, of which he made
so prodigious a display, being tacked to the cuffs of his coat, and the
collar, apparently of his shirt, pinned to his stock. On divesting him
of his patent leather boots, it was stated, moreover, that Mr. Cursty
Sandboys’ feet were found to be swathed, brigand-fashion, in dirty linen
rags.
The veritable Mr. Cursty Sandboys knew not how to act.
From the peculiarity of the name he was satisfied that he, and none
other, would be mistaken for the shirtless culprit. The inexperienced
native of Buttermere was ignorant of all the ordinary methods by which
the error might be rectified, and seeing no way but to sit down
patiently under the stigma, he very resignedly submitted to the
disgrace, consoling himself with the idea that at least the man would be
severely punished for his misdemeanours.
Despite her annoyance at the use of her husband’s name, Mrs. Cursty read
the account of the linenless state of the pretended foreign nobleman
with a kind of inward satisfaction, complimenting herself continually
upon the shrewdness of her suspicions as to the extent of the
Frenchman’s wardrobe, and glorying over the punishment of one to whom
she attributed so many of her late misfortunes.
The imprisonment of the assumed Comte was a great consolation to the
Sandboys, and tended considerably to weaken their determination to quit
London without seeing the Great Exhibition.
On reconsidering the matter, it began to appear to them that it would be
folly, and betray great want of firmness on their part, if, after all
they had gone through during their sojourn in the Great Metropolis, they
should return to Cumberland without seeing the very thing which had
brought them up to town.
All they wanted was to be able to _say_ they had seen the Exhibition.
Mrs. Cursty did not hesitate to confess, that after all she had
suffered, she did not, for her part, care whether she saw it or not. All
she desired was just to put her nose inside the door, so as not to be
obliged to go back and acknowledge that, though they had come up to town
for the express purpose of witnessing the Great Exhibition, and paying
goodness knows what for season tickets and “new things” they had been
“stupids enough” to go back without having had a glimpse at a single
article in the Crystal Palace after all.
No, that would never do.
The accounts which they read in the papers, moreover, served to make
them still more anxious to see what all appeared to consider the great
wonder of the age. Besides, Cursty himself began to perceive that the
Great Exhibition was not the mere gewgaw show that he had anticipated,
and the more he read about it, the more desirous he felt to make himself
acquainted with its various details.
Mrs. Cursty, too, after a little while, became, in her turn, eager to
see the “Mountain of Light” in its gilt cage,—and the Queen of Spain’s
jewels,—and the French tapestry, and the stomacher of brilliants that
she had heard so much about—and the carpet worked by one hundred and
fifty ladies as a present to the Queen—and the beautiful state-bed—and
the poplin loom, which could make the poplin a quarter of a yard wider
than usual, which, in her opinion, was one of the greatest improvements
in the whole place;—and then there was that love of a glass fountain
which she should not rest easy in her bed, she knew, if she went back to
Cumberland without seeing,—and, better still, that delicious fountain of
“_Aqua d’Oro_,” which the ladies were at liberty to dip their
handkerchiefs in as much and as often as they pleased.
Cursty, however, wanted to see objects of a very different character. He
had heard of the splendid specimens of black-lead from the Borrowdale
mines in his native county; and he longed to know how it was possible to
make the refuse dust into solid cakes, equal if not better than the pure
article. He wanted to see the different specimens of slate, for the
quarries on Honister Craig were close by his home; and he knew all about
the working, and the different sizes—the “Ladies,” the “Duchesses,” the
“Countesses,” the “Queens,” the “Imperials,” and the “Rags.” He was
deeply versed in Mundic and Galena, and all the ores of lead; and he
longed to see the huge specimens of those minerals that he had read of
as being shown in the Great Exhibition. He knew a little of coal, too,
and had just managed to get a peep at the colossal pieces of “Cannel,”
of “Steam,” and of “Anthracite,” arranged outside the building. He also
wanted to see the large lump of silver that had been obtained from the
lead ore by the crystallizing process. More than all, he was anxious to
see the machinery-room, which everybody spoke of with such enthusiasm.
There was the monster pump, with its two mouths, pouring out its river
of water,—he wanted to see the steam printing-press, and the carding and
spinning-machines, and the power-looms, of which he had heard such
marvels.
Eager to see all these, and many more things which he had heard and read
were deposited within the building of the Great Exhibition, Cursty
talked the matter calmly over with his wife, and finally agreed that, as
he was anxious to get back to Cumberland as soon as possible, and could
not afford to wait till the prices of admission fell to a shilling, it
would be better for him to buy another season ticket directly, and then
he and Aggy could go for an hour or so each day for the next fortnight,
and so be able to examine every object of interest in the collection
without fatiguing themselves.
Accordingly, Mr. Christopher, the very next day, applied at the office,
and obtained the requisite document.
Once more, then, the Sandboys set forth on their pilgrimage to the
Exhibition of the Works of Industry and Art of all Nations.
Mrs. Sandboys, having learnt experience from her previous disasters,
managed to make the “things,” (for so the lady would persist in calling
her several articles of dress,) which she possessed suffice for her
without purchasing new.
On reaching the doors at which their tickets of admission were to be
presented, and where they arrived, extraordinary to say, without any
particular accident, they tendered the official cards, and were handed
the books in which to insert their signatures,
As the clerk observed the name of the gentleman on the card, and saw Mr.
Cursty Sandboys prepare to write a similar title in the Autograph Book,
he remembered that this was the very appellation of the individual who
had been detected, a few days back, in abstracting a silver-handled
stiletto from one of the counters in the interior.
Before the lady had time to insert her autograph in the official
register, the clerk begged to be excused, saying he was called away upon
important business; and, proceeding to some of his brother officials, he
informed them that the impudent thief Cursty Sandboys had dared to seek
admission at the Crystal Palace once more.
In an instant, the news that the expert Cursty Sandboys, the pickpocket,
was about to enter the building, spread throughout the Crystal Palace,
literally with the rapidity of lightning, for the electric telegraph was
immediately set to work, telling the officials, one and all, to—
BEWARE OF CURSTY SANDBOYS!
No sooner did the alarming intelligence become general among the
authorities, than many, anxious to obtain a peep at the singularly-named
“swell-mobsman,” congregated round the entrance, where he was still
standing, and the innocent Christopher could observe them nudging one
another, and whispering, evidently concerning himself, in a way that he
did not half like, and could not possibly understand.
The clerk, on his return, proceeded to compare the signature of the
present Mr. Sandboys with that of the individual who had made his
appearance on the day of the opening.
Observing an evident discrepancy between the two, he beckoned a
brother-official to his side, and immediately they both set to work,
contrasting the one signature with the other, and looking backwards and
forwards in the most mysterious manner at the unoffending Mr. Sandboys.
Christopher, who got more and more bewildered at the manner of the
officials, could not for the life of him comprehend what it all meant.
At length, however, he heard one of the dozen policemen, who were now
grouped close round about him, whisper to another at his elbow that he,
Mr. Sandboys, had shaved off his moustachios, while another-officer put
his lips close to the ear of a brother official, and said, in an under
tone, that he had left his beard behind him.
In an instant the telegraph was at work, communicating the fact to the
authorities at each end of the building, and informing them that Cursty
Sandboys had come close shaved on the present occasion, and instructing
them one and all to keep a sharp eye upon his movements.
Mr. Sandboys, to his horror, at last began to perceive that he was
mistaken for no less illustrious a character than M. le Comte de
Sanschemise, who had gained admission to the building on the first day
by means of Cursty’s season ticket; and that the many policemen who were
gathered round him had come with the confident expectation that he had
repeated his visit to the establishment in the hopes of abstracting some
more valuable prize than on the previous occasion.
The clerk, who had been examining the books, at last ventured to hint to
the real Christopher, that there was a marked difference between the
signature of Mr. Cursty Sandboys of the first day and the gentleman who
now sought to gain admission; and, having previously arranged with the
Detective at his elbow, that the safest plan to be pursued would be to
make sure of the party then and there, while he was in their power, he
proceeded to inform the wretched Mr. Sandboys that it was his duty to
give him into custody on a charge of forgery. The Detective had not been
able to understand how it was possible for the Cursty Sandboys, who had
been committed for trial for stealing the stiletto a few days
previously, could make his appearance there, unless he had escaped from
prison that morning. This he strongly suspected must have been the case;
for he felt satisfied that no one would ever dream of assuming so
singular a name, and one, moreover, which at that moment was not in the
best public odour. Under all the circumstances, therefore, it was better
to secure the party now he was there.
Poor Aggy, when she heard the awful character of the charge that was now
made against her darling and innocent Cursty, and saw the policeman
proceed to lay hands upon him, swooned right off into the arms of the
nearest inspector. The official, however, looking upon the lady as the
brazen-faced partner of one of the light-fingered gentry, was in no
humour to resort to any gentle restoratives as a means of bringing the
lady back to her senses; so, shaking Mrs. Sandboys violently, he, in the
most unceremonious manner, said that they were up to all them fainting
dodges, and it was no use trying ’em on with them.
It was in vain for Cursty either to expostulate or to explain, for being
looked upon as a thief, of course he was treated as one; so that when he
endeavoured to make known the real facts of the case, the officers
winked their eyes and grinned at one another at what they considered the
extreme lameness of the excuse. After he had wasted some ten minutes in
attempting to assert and prove his innocence, he was dragged off by two
policemen, and being placed in a cab, was conveyed, without loss of
time, before the sitting magistrate at the nearest police-office.
There the charge was immediately entered upon, when, the magistrate
observing that further proof was required, the Detective prayed for a
remand of the prisoner, stating he felt convinced that in a few days he
should be able to bring a large body of evidence to bear against the
individual, for he was perfectly satisfied that if the party was not the
notorious Cursty Sandboys himself, he was at least one of his gang, and
had made use of that person’s ticket whilst he was in prison.
Aggy, who, on recovering her senses, had ascertained where her lord and
master had been carried, entered the police-court at this precise
juncture, and no sooner heard the officer pronounce her husband to
belong to a well-known gang of pickpockets, than she insisted upon being
heard, and was about to enter into a long family history of her husband
and herself, when the magistrate informed her, that unless she would
keep silence he should be compelled to have her put out of the court.
Cursty, finding himself likely to be committed to prison, sought to
explain to the magistrate how he was a plain country gentleman, come up
from Cumberland to enjoy himself and see the Great Exhibition; but his
statement was received with no more belief than the excuses of
individuals when similarly circumstanced, for the felon’s dock is not
exactly the place where a gentleman is likely to obtain much credit for
his assertions.
The magistrate, looking sternly at the melancholy Christopher, shook his
head, as much as to say that, after what the Detective had stated, the
case appeared rather black against him.
Cursty, however, finding himself standing, as it were, on the threshold
of a prison, protested his innocence so loudly, and persisted with such
pertinacity in his statements, that the magistrate was induced to
inquire of the turnkey in attendance whether he knew anything of the
prisoner, whereupon the official replied that he remembered the name
perfectly well, and having retired to refresh his memory on the subject,
returned shortly and stated, that he found Cursty Sandboys had been
charged only a short time back with being drunk and disorderly, and
incapable of taking care of himself; while the wife of the same “party”
had been given into custody about the same time for assaulting the
police.
This was more than the blood of Aggy could bear; and immediately she
rushed forward and began to enter into an explanation as to how the
hussey who had been taken up had used her name at the police-office,
after stealing her marriage certificate; but the manner of Mrs. Sandboys
was so excited, while her whole story sounded so improbable, that she
appeared to the magistrate to be just the kind of woman to commit such
an act under the influence of temper.
Accordingly, all things considered, the magistrate decided upon
remanding the ill-fated Cursty Sandboys till a future day, and, amid the
shrieks of his distracted wife, he was dragged off by the turnkey to be
locked up in his cell.
[Illustration:
The first Shilling-day——going in——
]
[Illustration:
The first Shilling-day—coming out——
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------