THE
MYSTERIES OF LONDON.
BY
GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS,
AUTHOR OF "FAUST," "PICKWICK ABROAD," "ROBERT MACAIRE,"
"WAGNER: THE WEHR-WOLF," &C., &C.
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS
VOL. III.
VOL. I. SECOND SERIES.
LONDON:
G. VICKERS, 3, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND.
MDCCCXLVII.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY J. FAUTLEY, "BONNER HOUSE" PRINTING OFFICE, SEACOAL LANE.
THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
CHAPTER I.—The Travelling Carriage 1
II.—Tom Rain and Old Death 4
III.—Bow Street 6
IV.—Esther de Medina 9
V.—The Appeal of Love 13
VI.—Dr. Lascelles 15
VII.—The Beautiful Patient 18
VIII.—Seven Dials 20
IX.—A Death-Scene.—Lock's Fields 23
X.—A Scene at the House of Sir Christopher Blunt 28
XI.—The Two Thousand Pounds.—Torrens Cottage 30
XII.—Adelais and Rosamond 33
XIII.—The Elopement 36
XIV.—Lady Hatfield and Dr. Lascelles.—Esther de Medina 39
XV.—The Opiate 42
XVI.—The Lover and the Uncle 43
XVII.—The Mysterious Letter.—Jacob 44
XVIII.—The Lovers 48
XIX.—Mr. Frank Curtis's Pleasant Adventure 51
XX.—Happiness.—The Diamond Merchant 55
XXI.—The Oath 59
XXII.—The Alarm.—The Letter 61
XXIII.—Old Death 64
XXIV.—Castle Street, Long Acre 67
XXV.—Matilda, the Country-Girl 70
XXVI.—The Lady's-Maid 73
XXVII.—London on a Rainy Evening.—A Scene in a Post-Chaise 75
XXVIII.—Tom Rain's Lodgings in Lock's Fields 77
XXIX.—The Mysteries of Old Death's Establishment 82
XXX.—The Store-Rooms 86
XXXI.—Another Deed of Infamy brought to Light 88
XXXII.—Rainford in the Subterranean 92
XXXIII.—Mrs. Martha Slingsby 94
XXXIV.—The Pious Lady 96
XXXV.—Mr. Sheepshanks 100
XXXVI.—The Baronet and his Mistress 102
XXXVII.—Tom Rain and Jacob 104
XXXVIII.—The History of Jacob Smith 107
XXXIX.—Continuation of the History of Jacob Smith 116
XL.—Conclusion of the History of Jacob Smith 120
XLI.—Fresh Alarms 126
XLII.—The Paragraph in the Newspaper 128
XLIII.—Lord Ellingham and Tom Rainford 131
XLIV.—Mr. Frank Curtis again 134
XLV.—Mr. Dykes and his Myrmidons 139
XLVI.—Explanations 141
XLVII.—Farther Explanations 144
XLVIII.—Lord Ellingham and Tom Rain 147
XLIX.—A Painful Interview 151
L.—The Lawyer's Office 155
LI.—Lord Ellingham in the Dungeon 157
LII.—Lord Ellingham's Exertions 162
LIII.—The Execution 164
LIV.—Galvanism 166
LV.—The Laboratory.—Esther de Medina 167
LVI.—A History of the Past 172
LVII.—A Father 185
LVIII.—The Resuscitated 188
LIX.—The Jew's Family 194
LX.—Sir Christopher Blunt's Domestic Hearth 196
LXI.—Captain O'Blunderbuss 198
LXII.—Frank's Embarrassments 202
LXIII.—The Meeting in Battersea Fields 204
LXIV.—Old Death and his Friend Tidmarsh 206
LXV.—The Examination 208
LXVI.—Mrs. Slingsby and the Baronet again 215
LXVII.—The Marriage.—Rosamond 219
LXVIII.—Dr. Wagtail.—Rosamond Torrens 222
LXIX.—Misery and Vice 229
LXX.—Tim the Snammer 232
LXXI.—The History of Tim the Snammer 234
LXXII.—Mr. and Mrs. Curtis 255
LXXIII.—Captain O'Blunderbuss again 260
LXXIV.—Three Months after Marriage 264
LXXV.—The Knight and the Captain 268
LXXVI.—Tim the Snammer and Josh Pedler out on Business 271
LXXVII.—The Father and Daughter 273
LXXVIII.—Retribution 276
LXXIX.—The Earl of Ellingham and Lady Hatfield again 279
LXXX.—Mrs. Slingsby and Mrs. Torrens 283
LXXXI.—Rosamond at Home 288
LXXXII.—The Forged Cheque 292
LXXXIII.—The Reward of Crime 295
LXXXIV.—Old Death's Party 299
LXXXV.—The History of a Livery Servant 303
LXXXVI.—Conclusion of the History of a Livery-servant 312
LXXXVII.—The Blackamoor 322
LXXXVIII.—Scenes at the Blackamoor's House 326
LXXXIX.—The Surprise.—Jeffreys and Old Death 331
XC.—The New Justice of the Peace 334
XCI.—Captain O'Blunderbuss again.—Another Strange Visitor 337
XCII.—The Confession 342
XCIII.—Newgate 344
XCIV.—"The Stout House." 349
XCV.—Clarence Villiers and his Aunt 354
XCVI.—Sir Christopher Blunt a Hero 357
XCVII.—Carlton House 360
XCVIII.—An Acquittal and a Sentence 363
XCVIX.—The Condition of the Working Classes 368
C.—The Earl of Ellingham and Esther de Medina 371
CI.—The Blackamoor's Strange Adventure 375
CII.—A State of Siege 380
CIII.—The Surprise.—A Change of Scene 384
CIV.—The Visit.—The Habeas Corpus 389
CV.—The King's Bench Prison 391
CVI.—A Farther Insight into the King's Bench 396
CVII.—A Tale of Sorrow 400
CVIII.—Conclusion of the Tale of Sorrow 408
CIX.—The Prisoners 413
ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. I.
SECOND SERIES.
For Woodcut on page 1 see page 5
For Woodcut on page 9 see page 15
For Woodcut on page 17 see page 22
For Woodcut on page 25 see page 31
For Woodcut on page 33 see page 37
OLD DEATH page 41
For Woodcut on page 49 see page 53
For Woodcut on page 57 see page 60
For Woodcut on page 65 see page 68
For Woodcut on page 73 see page 80
For Woodcut on page 81 see page 86
For Woodcut on page 89 see page 95
For Woodcut on page 97 see page 101
For Woodcut on page 105 see page 111
JACOB SMITH IN THE
POWER OF SATAN page 113
For Woodcut on page 121 see page 127
For Woodcut on page 129 see page 131
For Woodcut on page 137 see page 141
For Woodcut on page 145 see page 150
For Woodcut on page 153 see page 159
DR. LASCELLES page 161
For Woodcut on page 169 see page 176
For Woodcut on page 177 see page 176
For Woodcut on page 185 see page 189
For Woodcut on page 193 see page 198
For Woodcut on page 201 see page 205
For Woodcut on page 209 see page 210
For Woodcut on page 217 see page 224
For Woodcut on page 225 see page 229
TIM THE SNAMMER page 233
For Woodcut on page 241 see page 245
For Woodcut on page 242 see page 255
For Woodcut on page 257 see page 263
For Woodcut on page 265 see page 272
For Woodcut on page 273 see page 274
For Woodcut on page 281 see page 286
For Woodcut on page 289 see page 292
For Woodcut on page 297 see page 300
For Woodcut on page 305 see page 309
For Woodcut on page 313 see page 317
For Woodcut on page 321 see page 323
For Woodcut on page 329 see page 335
For Woodcut on page 337 see page 342
For Woodcut on page 345 see page 348
For Woodcut on page 353 see page 358
For Woodcut on page 361 see page 362
For Woodcut on page 369 see page 372
For Woodcut on page 377 see page 384
For Woodcut on page 385 see page 390
For Woodcut on page 393 see page 396
For Woodcut on page 401 see page 406
For Woodcut on page 409 see page 410
THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
THE TRAVELLING-CARRIAGE.
It was about nine o'clock in the evening of the 2nd of November, 1826,
that a travelling-carriage stopped, on its way to London, to change
horses at the principal hotel in the little town of Staines.
The inmates of the vehicle were two ladies:—an elderly domestic in
livery and a female attendant occupied the box.
The night was clear, fine, and frosty: the moon shone brightly; and the
carriage lamps threw a strong glare to a considerable distance in front
of the vehicle.
The active ostlers speedily unharnessed the four wearied steeds, and
substituted as many fresh ones in their place: the two postboys leapt
into their saddles; the landlord cried "All right!"—and the carriage
rolled rapidly away from the inn, the horses' shoes striking fire
against the stones.
"If there be any thing particularly calculated to raise the spirits,"
said one lady to the other, a few minutes after the chariot had left the
peaceful town behind, "it is travelling upon such a beauteous night as
this."
"I am delighted to observe that you _are_ in good spirits this evening,
my dear Lady Hatfield," was the reply. "After passing four long months
at Sir Ralph Walsingham's country seat, London will present fresh
attractions for your ladyship."
"My dear Miss Mordaunt," returned Lady Hatfield, in a serious tone, "you
are aware that I am indifferent to those formal parties and ceremonial
assemblies which are reckoned amongst the pleasures of the fashionable
world; and I can assure you that had not my uncle purported to return to
London in a few days, my own inclinations would have urged me to prolong
my stay at Walsingham Manor."
"For my part," said Miss Mordaunt, "I am quite delighted with the idea
of hastening back to the great metropolis. A summer in the country is
only tolerable because each day brings one nearer to the enjoyments of a
winter in town. But really, my dear Lady Hatfield, you are not
reasonable. Rich, young, and beautiful as you are—your own mistress—and
with the handsomest man in England dying to lay his coronet at your
feet——"
"I shall never marry, Julia," hastily interrupted Lady Hatfield. "Pray
let us change the conversation. A few minutes ago I was in excellent
spirits; and now——"
She paused—and a deep sigh escaped her bosom.
"Did I not say that you were quite unreasonable?" exclaimed her
companion. "Here am I—five years older than yourself,—for I do not mind
telling you, my dear friend, that I shall never see thirty again;—and
yet I have not renounced the idea of changing my condition. I know that
I am neither so good-looking nor so wealthy as you;—still I have my
little ambition. Sir Christopher Blunt would deem himself honoured were
I to smile graciously upon him; but my brother, the lieutenant—who, by
the by, expects his captaincy in a few days, thanks to the interest of
your kind uncle Sir Ralph—declares that if ever I marry a mere knight,
he will never speak to me again."
Lady Hatfield had fallen into a profound reverie, and paid not the
slightest regard to the confidential outpourings of her garrulous
companion.
Miss Mordaunt, who laboured under the pleasing impression that Lady
Hatfield's silence was occasioned by the deep interest which she took in
the present topic, continued to rattle away with her tongue as fast as
the carriage did with its wheels.
"I am sure it was a very great act of kindness in you to ask me to spend
the winter with you in London; for as papa is compelled to reside in
Ireland, in consequence of the unsettled state of his tenantry, I should
have been under the necessity of returning to the Emerald Isle, after my
four months' visit with you to Walsingham Manor, had you not taken that
compassion on me. But let us speak of yourself, dear Lady Hatfield.
Without a soul in the world to control your actions—with the means of
procuring every enjoyment—and with Lord Ellingham going mad on your
account——"
"Julia," said Lady Hatfield, with a start,—"again I beseech you to drop
this subject. And, as you will be my companion for some months to come,
let me now, once for all, enjoin you to abstain from such topics. As you
cannot read the secrets of my heart, pray bear in mind the fact that
many a light word uttered thoughtlessly and with no malicious intent,
may touch a chord that will thrill," she added calmly, but bitterly, "to
the inmost recesses of my soul."
"Oh! my dear Lady Hatfield," exclaimed Miss Mordaunt, who, in spite of
her loquacity, was a very good-natured person, "I am rejoiced that you
have given me this warning. And how foolish of me not to have
observed—what indeed I now remember—that the topic of Love never was
agreeable to you. To be sure! it was during the sermon upon the felicity
of the wedded state, that you fainted and were taken into the vestry!"
Lady Hatfield writhed in mental agony; and bitterly at that moment did
she repent the invitation which she had given her thoughtless companion
to pass the winter with her in London.
The carriage had now reached the little town of Bedfont, which it
traversed without stopping; and continued its rapid way towards
Hounslow.
But all of a sudden the course of the chariot was checked—as if by an
unexpected impediment in the way; and the horses began to plunge
frightfully.
At the same time the lady's-maid on the box uttered a dreadful scream.
Lady Hatfield drew down the window nearest to her: the chaise that
moment came to a full stop; and a stern, but evidently disguised voice
exclaimed, "Keep your horses quiet, you damned fools—and don't mind me!
If you stir till I give you leave, I'll blow out the brains of both of
you."
"Robbers!" shrieked Miss Mordaunt in a despairing tone: "Oh! what will
become of us?"
Lady Hatfield looked from the window; and at the same instant a man,
mounted on horseback, with a black mask over his countenance, and a
pistol in each hand, was by the side of the vehicle.
"Villain!" cried the livery-servant on the box. "But you shall swing for
this!"
"Perhaps I may," said the highwayman, coolly, though still speaking in a
feigned tone, as is the custom with individuals of his profession upon
such occasions as the one we are describing: "and if you attempt to
move, old fellow, from where you are, an ounce of lead shall tumble you
down from your perch. Beg pardon, ma'am," continued the robber, turning
towards Lady Hatfield, who had shrunk back into the corner of the
carriage the moment the desperado appeared at the window; "sorry to
inconvenience you; but—your purse!"
Lady Hatfield handed the highwayman her reticule.
"Good!" said he, perceiving by its weight and a certain jingling sound
which it sent forth, that it contained gold. "But you have a companion,
ma'am—_her_ purse!"
Miss Mordaunt complied with this demand, and implored the "good
gentleman" not to murder her.
The highwayman gave no reply; but vouchsafed a most satisfactory proof
of his intended forbearance in that respect, by putting spurs to his
steed, and darting off like an arrow in the direction of Hounslow.
"Cowardly villains that you are!" ejaculated the livery-servant, hurling
this reproach against the postboys.
"And what are you, old fool?" cried the postillion who rode the
wheel-horse. "But he'll be nabbed yet."
"Drive on—drive on!" exclaimed Lady Hatfield from the window. "We are
all frightened—and not hurt."
"Indeed, my dear," said Miss Mordaunt, as the carriage started off
rapidly once more, "I am seriously hurt—grievously wounded!"
"You, Julia!" cried her ladyship, in unfeigned surprise.
"Yes—in pocket," was the answer, implying deep vexation. "All the
remainder of my quarter's allowance——"
"Oh! compose yourself on that head," interrupted Lady Hatfield. "You
shall not be compelled to acquaint Mr. Mordaunt with your loss."
This assurance, conveying a promise of pecuniary assistance, materially
tended to tranquillise the mind of Miss Mordaunt; but the event which
had just occurred—apart from the mere robbery of her reticule—awoke the
most painful reflections in the mind of Lady Hatfield.
"By the by," said Miss Mordaunt, after a short pause—for she never
remained long silent,—"this audacious outrage reminds me of something
your uncle Sir Ralph Walsingham was telling me one day, when you
interrupted him in the middle. I think he informed me that about six or
seven years ago—when you were only eighteen or nineteen—you were staying
at your dear lamented father's country-house, where you were quite
alone—for of course one does not call the servants anybody; when the
mansion was broken into by robbers during the night——"
"Julia!" exclaimed Lady Hatfield, her whole frame fearfully convulsed by
the powerful though useless efforts which she made to subdue her
agitation: "never, I implore you, again allude to that dreadful event!"
"Well—I never will," said Miss Mordaunt. "And yet, if one must not speak
of Love—nor yet of marriage—nor yet of midnight burglaries——"
"Nay—I was wrong to cut you short thus abruptly," remarked Lady
Hatfield, now endeavouring to rob her prayer of the importance with
which her solemn earnestness of manner had invested it: "only, do choose
some more enlivening topic after the fright which we have just
experienced."
"The first thing to-morrow morning," said Miss Mordaunt, who had not
noticed the full extent of the impression which her allusion to the
burglary of some years back had made upon her companion—for Julia was
too flippant, superficial, and volatile to pay much attention to the
emotions of others,—"the first thing to-morrow morning we must give
information to the Bow Street runners concerning this highway robbery:
secondly, we must write to the landlord at Staines to tell him what a
couple of cowardly fellows he has got in the shape of these
postillions;—and thirdly, you must discharge old Mason, who is evidently
incapable of protecting his mistress, much less her friends."
"Discharge old Mason!" exclaimed Lady Hatfield: "impossible! How could
he have protected us! He is unarmed—whereas the highwayman flourished
two large pistols, doubtless loaded. But here we are safe at Hounslow!"
The carriage drew up at the door of the hotel in this town; and the
postillions immediately narrated the particulars of the robbery to the
landlord and his attendant tribe of hangers-on.
"Well, this is fortunate!" cried the landlord, when the tale was told:
"quite a God-send, as one may say."
"As how, please, sir?" exclaimed the elder postboy, astonished at the
remark.
"Why—it happens that Dykes, the famous Bow Street officer, is in the
hotel at this very instant," said the landlord. "John," he added,
turning to a waiter who stood near, "beg Mr. Dykes to step this way."
"And what's Dykes doing down here?" asked the postboy, when the waiter
had disappeared to execute the commission he had received.
"He's been investigating a 'cendiary fire," replied an ostler; for the
landlord, disdaining to hold any farther converse with a postillion, had
stepped up to the window to inquire whether the ladies chose to alight.
Having received a negative answer, accompanied with an intimation that
the sooner the carriage was allowed to proceed the more agreeable it
would be to Lady Hatfield and Miss Mordaunt, the landlord returned
towards the spot where the postillions, the hangers-on of the hotel, and
other loungers were grouped together.
Mr. Dykes almost immediately afterwards made his appearance in the form
of a tall, stout, heavy, but powerfully built man, shabby-genteel in his
attire, and carrying a strong ash-stick in his hand.
The particulars of the highway robbery were described to him in a very
few moments.
"How was the fellow dressed?" asked the officer.
"A black coat," said the first postboy.
"No—it wasn't," cried the second.
"Then what was it?" demanded Mr. Dykes.
"I don't know—but I'm sure it wasn't a black 'un," was the highly
satisfactory answer.
"Describe his horse," said Dykes impatiently.
"Brown—switch tail—standing about fourteen hands——"
"Nonsense!" ejaculated the second postillion, interrupting his companion
who had volunteered the explanation. "It was a light bay—the moon fell
full upon it—so did the carriage-lights."
"Come, I see we are only losing time," cried the officer. "Which way did
he go?"
"He galloped off in this direction," was the reply, which remained
uncontradicted.
"Then he'll be in London to-night, whichever road he took," said Mr.
Dykes. "If your ladies will give me a cast as far as town, I'll be after
the villain. Perhaps he turned off to the left towards Hatton, and so
over by Hanwell and then Shepherd's Bush; or else he made straight for
Richmond, and so over into Surrey. But, one way or another, he's sure to
be in London by midnight; and ten to one if I don't pounce on him. My
business is done down here; and I may just as well toddle back to-night
as to-morrow morning."
The substance of these remarks was communicated to Lady Hatfield, who
could not well do otherwise than accord a seat on the box to Mr. Dykes,
Charlotte, the lady's-maid, removing to the interior of the carriage.
These arrangements having been effected, the vehicle pursued its way;
and shortly after eleven o'clock it drew up at the door of a mansion on
Piccadilly Hill.
Mr. Dykes, having asked the ladies a few questions, promised to
communicate the result of his efforts to capture the highwayman; and
then took his departure.
Lady Hatfield and Miss Mordaunt shortly retired to their respective
bed-chambers: the latter to dream of the delights of London—the former
to moisten her pillow with tears; for the recent adventure had awakened
in her mind feelings of the most agonising description.