PEACE RETURNS TO HIS LODGINGS.――A VIOLENT SCENE.――THE ACCUSATION.
The notorious burglar whose deeds it is our purpose to chronicle
during the progress of this work, succeeded, as the reader has
doubtless already surmised, in getting clear off. After scaling the
two walls in the rear of the captain’s house he found himself in a
narrow unfrequented street, or, more properly speaking, court or
alley.
He proceeded at once to make as much alteration in his appearance as
possible. By the aid of his handkerchief and a little water he removed
the stain from his face.
It has been asserted that he made use of walnut juice for the purpose
of altering the hue of his skin.
This is a mistake. Walnut juice is not so easily removed. The pigment
he employed was a finely-ground powder mixed with beer. This, when
rubbed on the surface of the skin, gave him the appearance of a
mulatto; and he had only to draw on a close-fitting black wig to make
the disguise complete.
Peace, when representing a nigger, on the stage had, of course, to
make up with burnt cork and beer, and it was this that first gave him
the idea of using a brown powder in lieu of the cork to so
successfully assume the appearance of a half-caste.
It had, moreover, this advantage; after his nocturnal depredations
were over he could wash the colouring off his face in a few seconds,
and remove his wig. This done, Charles Peace was himself again.
The disguise was so perfect that detection or identification was
almost impossible.
The stain, as we have already observed, was removed, the wig was taken
off, the false arm removed, and Peace felt quite secure.
He walked gaily along in an easy self-confident manner, not for a
moment caring about a chance encounter with any member of the police
force.
The self-possession and assurance of the man surpassed all belief.
He was, however, greatly chagrined at the unsuccessful nature of his
raid upon the warehouse, and he could not disguise from himself that
he had escaped almost by a miracle.
Nothing daunted, however, by his dangerous adventure, he walked gaily
along till he reached one of the main streets of the town.
Here he was met by the two policemen who had made such a vain
endeavour to capture him.
One of the constables flashed his bull’s-eye full in the face of the
burglar, who bore his scrutiny with the utmost complacence.
“You’ll know me again the next time we meet!” said Peace, with cool
assurance.
“May be I shall,” returned the constable. “Where are you coming from,
and whither are you going?”
“That’s my business; but, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. I’m
going to my own home, and I’ve been on a visit to a sick friend. You
may as well know all. My name’s Charles Peace; I’m a carver and
gilder――and a musician to boot. Anything else you want to know?”
“Have you seen any one pass as you came along?”
“Well, no one in particular. Oh, yes!――there was a dark-looking man――a
mulatto, he appeared to be, with one arm; he was running at the top of
his speed.”
“Which way did he go?” asked the policeman, eagerly.
“He ran down that street――the second turning to the left.”
“How long since?”
“Not a minute ago.”
The two constables made off in the direction pointed out by Peace.
“Good!” ejaculated the latter, with a grin. “I hope you will find the
gentleman!”
He walked on at a more rapid pace, and did not pause until he had
reached his own habitation.
He let himself in as usual with his latch-key, and crept softly
upstairs.
For the next few days he worked industriously at his business, and
behaved in a proper and discreet manner.
One or two of his friends, or rather patrons, paid him a visit, and
gave him fresh commissions, and he deemed it advisable to keep as
quiet as possible till the excitement consequent upon the attempt at
burglary had somewhat subsided.
Like other affairs of a similar nature it was but a nine days’ wonder;
the general impression being that it was the work of some tramp, who
was in all probability a stranger in the town. Anyway, the aforesaid
tramp was never discovered.
John Bristow, the man who occupied the parlours in the house where
Peace lodged, had been for some days “on the drink.” His poor wife,
during this period, had had a sad time of it. Her husband neglected
his work, drank to excess, and conducted himself in a manner which was
almost intolerable.
Bessie Dalton strove in vain to pacify the brute, who came home in a
furious state.
It would indeed be a terrible picture of man’s brutality, and woman’s
forbearance, were we to record all that passed in the drunkard’s
miserable home.
One night Peace was aroused by piercing screams, which proceeded from
Bristow’s room.
“For mercy’s sake, Charlie,” said Bessie Dalton, “go down to that
wretch; there’ll be murder done. I’m sure there will if they go on
like this.”
“It’s a thankless task to interfere between man and wife,” answered
Peace. “Best let them settle their own disputes.”
“I tell you Bristow’s mad, and knows not what he’s doing. I cannot and
will not remain quiet while this is going on. If you don’t care about
interfering I will.”
She rushed downstairs; Peace followed.
Bessie opened the door of the front parlour, and found the room in the
utmost disorder. Chairs were overturned, and the lamp upset and
broken.
Bristow had his fingers round his wife’s throat, and appeared to be
endeavouring to throttle her.
“You inhuman monster!” exclaimed Bessie, catching hold of the back
part of the collar of the man’s coat, and dragging him back with all
her force.
“Now, look here, Bristow,” said Peace, “don’t be a fool. You’ve got a
good wife, and you don’t know how to treat her. A man’s a coward who
lays his hand upon a woman.”
“Ish he?” returned the ruffian, turning savagely upon the
speaker――“ish he? Then I’ll lay my hands upon a man, that I may teach
him to mind his own bushnis.”
Having given utterance to these words he sprang upon Peace like a wild
beast.
The latter deftly slipped out of his grasp, and gave him a push, which
sent him sprawling backwards.
He rose to his feet, and was about to commence another attack, when
Bessie Dalton, who was a lion-hearted little girl, threw herself
between the two combatants.
“I’m not afraid of you, big as you are,” said Bessie. “So if you want
to hit anyone, hit me.”
With a look of drunken stupidity Bristow poised himself on his legs,
which, to say the least, were particularly shaky at this time, and
contemplated the girl with something like admiration.
“Thee bee’st a plucky un, thersh no denying that. I don’t want to harm
’ee――――”
“I wish I was a big strong man,” exclaimed Bessie, in a spiteful tone.
“That’s what I wish.”
“And why, my pretty little spitfire?” inquired Bristow.
“I’d give you a good thrashing――that’s all.”
“Ah! indeed; then I’m glad you’re not.”
He flung himself into a chair, and looked the very personification of
imbecility.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Bristow; upon my word, you are a
disgrace to the neighbourhood.”
“Am I?” said the man, with a short jerk of his body, and a stupid nod
of his head; “a dishgrace, eh?”
“Certainly you are――everybody says so.”
“Look here, I aint a-goin’ to stand any o’ your cheek, blow me if I
do――no, nor any of your preaching either. What are you, I should like
to know?”
“A thousand times better than you are!” exclaimed Bessie Dalton.
“Ish he?” This was said in a drawling tone and jeering manner.
“Yes, he is.”
“I’m not so sure about it. Why, Lord love yer, gal, don’t ye know what
he ish――_a burglar_! Do ye hear――a burglar!”
Had a bomb-shell exploded in the room it could not possibly have
caused greater consternation than did this declaration.
Peace was pale with rage.
“You infamous liar!” he exclaimed, in a voice of concentrated passion,
walking up to the speaker, and shaking his fist in his face.
“Were it not that I respect your poor, ill-used wife――were it not that
you are in a beastly state of intoxication, I would fell you to the
earth.”
Bristow laughed derisively.
“You――you fell me to the earth,” he repeated, in a sneering tone.
Peace by this time was wild with fury.
Seeing that a desperate scene of violence was likely to take place,
Mrs. Bristow flung herself in front of her husband, and said, in a
deprecating tone――
“John――John, for mercy’s sake do not make so foul a charge;” then
turning to Peace, she murmured, “Take no notice of what he says, Mr.
Peace. Do not heed his words. He knows not what he’s saying.”
“Don’t I?” returned Bristow, with another jerk and a nod, “don’t I? I
aint to be gammoned if you are. I know my way about.”
“Silence! Hold your tongue, John. Do be quiet!”
“You think I’m a fool, I ’spose,――eh?” said Bristow, in continuation.
“How about that young swell――that lad of a chap ’as comes here? Be he
arter you or Bessie? I’m a fool, am I?”
“Abuse me as much as you like――I am used to it; but don’t take away
other persons’ characters,” ejaculated the miserable wife.
“Oh, Mr. Peace, he’ll be sorry for what he’s said to-morrow. Take no
notice of him. Pray don’t, for my sake.”
“For your sake I would do much; but he will have to answer for this;
not now, perhaps, for he is not sober, but he will have to answer for
it, and that he will soon know to his cost.”
“Shall I? Oh, very good. I’ll answer for it whenever you like.”
“John, be quiet,” urged the unhappy wife.
“Well, then, send for something to drink.”
“You’ve had enough.”
“Have I? Then I’ll have more!” exclaimed Bristow, rising from his
chair and staggering towards the door. “Who’s got any money? Have you
got any, Mr. Burglar?”
Peace, who was standing near the door, lost all command over his
temper. He struck the man a terrible blow between the eyes which
felled him like an ox.
The women both screamed with fright.
A policeman, who was passing, entered the parlour, and found Peace and
Bristow wrestling like two athletes.
“Now then,” said the constable; “let’s have no more of this, or I’ll
lock you both up.”
He parted the two combatants, who stood glaring at one another like
two wild animals.
“He took me unawares, and gave me a prop atween the eyes,” said
Bristow, who was by this time a little sobered.
“He’s been beating his wife, the wretch,” said Bessie Dalton. “Been
trying to throttle her.”
“Do you charge him?” inquired the policeman of Mrs. Bristow.
“Oh, dear no. He was not sober at the time. I don’t want anyone to be
charged.”
“I told yon chap that he were a burglar, and he didn’t like to hear
the truth,” ejaculated Bristow, with a chuckle.
“The man’s mad drunk――he’s been creating a disturbance the whole of
the evening, and, because we came into the room to prevent murder
being done, he’s been as insulting as possible,” said Peace. “He ought
to be locked up, to prevent him from doing further mischief. Will
anyone charge him?”
“No, there’s no charge, policeman,” answered Mrs. Bristow, quickly.
“Well, I’ll tell you what it is, if I hear any more noise or row, I’ll
lock you up upon my own responsibility;” this last speech was
addressed to Bristow.
“All right; now we understand one another,” answered the latter, in
the same sneering tone which he had adopted during the whole of the
evening. He was maudlin drunk, mischievously disposed, and
tantalising.
“I’ll have no more to say to the worthless vagabond,” remarked Peace,
preparing to leave. “You must use your own discretion in dealing with
him, but before I go I must tell you that he is a dangerous character,
and a nuisance to the house, and, indeed, to the whole neighbourhood,”
and with these words, our hero strode out of the apartment, being in
no way disposed to prolong a scene which might compromise him.
He felt that the time had arrived for him to beat a retreat; he
adopted this course from strategic reasons. There was no telling what
further might fall from the lips of Bristow, who was evidently
mischievously disposed.
Peace, therefore, made for his own apartments upstairs.
Bessie Dalton, however, chose to remain in the parlour to defend her
friend, Mrs. Bristow, or Sophy, as she called her.
The policeman, who was a very efficient and worthy member of the
force, gave the inebriate a long lecture. He was well acquainted with
the character of the latter, as disturbances and scenes of violence
were unhappily but too frequent.
After the departure of Peace, Bristow toned down.
He said to the constable that he had been a little hasty――had been, in
fact, worried about one or two matters within the last few days; but
that he was sorry he had lost his temper. He could see it all now as
plainly as a book; still, at the same time, he declared “that he was
not going to stand any more of that fellow’s cheek.”
Of course he alluded to Peace, from whose blow he was still smarting.
Indeed, one of his eyes was blackened, although probably he was not
aware of this at present.
The policeman, after a few more words of warning, left the two women
and Bristow to settle their differences as best they could.
Soon after this Bristow went to bed, and in a few minutes was sleeping
soundly.
The house was quiet for the remainder of the night.