"QUEEN LIZ."
A cry in the darkness--a crime in the night.--
With the blood of the victim the sharp blade is wet;
In silence we gaze on the horrible sight--
The dark deed is done--but the end is not yet.
It was on this very night that the habitues of that particular passage
in the Whitechapel section, gazed with sentiments of mingled awe and
curiosity, as Sam Hop Lee withdrew the bloody weapon from the prostrate
body of "Queen Liz."
Elizabeth's reputation in the passage was pretty clearly defined in our
opening chapter. Her ability to defend herself and friends against her
pugilistic and plundering neighbors had been the eventual outcome of
fear, desperation and the first law of nature.
She shunned their society from the first, and acting on the advice of
one who knew the ways of rogues and rascals from long association, she
demonstrated her skill in the use of "protecting irons" at the very
first provocation. Jealousy and envy surrounded her, yet so great was
their fear of genuine bravery that Elizabeth managed to live pretty much
as she wished in her own wretched room. She guarded her beautiful baby
girl with the ferocious affection of a tigress. Not an instant, day or
night, was the child allowed out of her sight so great was her distrust
of those by whom she was surrounded.
But in some way from the first, Sam Lee had in many ways befriended her.
He had given the baby queer little chop sticks to play with and not
infrequently an odd looking paper of curious tasting tea was slipped
into her hand by the beady-eyed mongolian. Recognizing him at once as
Mr. Maynard's mysterious peddler, Elizabeth was inclined to be
suspicious of his friendship, but as days and weeks rolled by she found
herself going oftener and oftener to his quarters, and never in a single
instance did he abuse her neighborly advances. She tried hard to teach
him the English language, but in spite of his earnest efforts he proved
but an indifferent scholar.
Soon it was noticed that the genteel looking stranger who spent so much
time with Queen Liz, became also much at home in the Chinaman's shanty,
and they were frequently heard conversing in that peculiarly abbreviated
language that was so bewildering to those who listened.
The genteel stranger was always arrayed in a heavy coat with a jaunty
cape and a soft felt hat slouched suspiciously over his eyes. His beard
was red and closely cropped, while a tawny moustache completely
concealed his mouth. He was seldom seen during the day, but partook
strongly of the habits of the other residents in his nocturnal goings
and comings.
Queen Liz always escorted him safely to the street, and it was observed
by the more curious that her face wore a happier expression after one of
his visits, and her whole manner betokened a lighter heart. She would
fondle and caress the baby, which she always kept spotlessly clean, and
occasionally her voice was heard as she sang some plaintive air to the
uncertain accompaniment of a clanging Chinese cymbal.
But to-night it was all over, and as Sam Lee withdrew the glittering
knife from her bleeding side, a terrible frown darkened his brow;
Chinese curses and lamentations followed one upon another, and to the
bewildered spectators it seemed as if, in his own heathenish method, Sam
Lee was swearing vengeance on the murderer, whom he had evidently
recognized by the weapon. At any rate, he removed the woman and the
child, and the inmates, nothing loth, resigned all claim upon them both,
and soon the episode, like many others of similar nature, was forgotten.
Only a week later the Chinaman's shanty was closed and no one of the
trio, Queen Liz, the child or their benefactor, was ever again seen by
the inhabitants of the passage.