THE FLIGHT――A CONFIDENTIAL FRIEND――THE ROLL OF NOTES.
Mrs. Bristow had screwed her courage up as best she could, but now
that the time had arrived for her to leave her home she felt a pang
shoot through her heart.
She pictured to herself her husband’s return home after his debauch,
his awakening in the morning, and his bitter remorse. Dissolute,
debased, and worthless fellow as he was, his ill-used and miserable
wife had some compassion left for him, some latent love of which she
found it difficult to dispossess herself.
This is almost invariably the case with ruffians of this class. We are
furnished with numberless instances of this in the reports of assaults
upon women heard in our public police-courts.
The injured woman almost always finds some excuse for her brutal
husband, and it is likely enough that Mrs. Bristow would never have
left her home, however badly she had been treated, had it not been
through the instigation and by the advice of her friend Bessie Dalton.
Mrs. Bristow had seated herself in front of a little table――pens, ink
and paper were before her, the last-named being already blotted by her
tears.
“What shall I say to him, Bessie?” enquired the wife of her friend.
“How should I know? If it were my case I would not trouble myself to
write. Wish him good-bye and say you are going abroad, that’s the best
thing to do.”
“Abroad?”
“Certainly. Don’t let him imagine you are going to remain in this
country; say you are going abroad to seek your fortune in a strange
land, that’s the way to put it.”
“He wont believe it.”
“It doesn’t matter what he believes――only don’t give him an idea that
it is any use his endeavouring to find you out.”
“I wish you would dictate the letter.”
“Very well. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Then go on.”
“DEAR JOHN,――I write these few lines to tell you that I find
it impossible to remain under the same roof with one who has
treated me with such unkindness and cruelty. My cup of
sorrow is full to the brim. If I remain here I feel
convinced that I shall meet with my death at your hands. For
both our sakes it is therefore better that we should part.
Never expect to see me again in this world. I leave England
to-morrow; you will do much better without me. I do hope and
trust that you will see the error of your ways and lead a
better life.――Your miserable wife,
“MARIA BRISTOW.”
“That will do; won’t it?” said the girl.
“Oh, dear, yes. My head is in such a whirl that I find it impossible
to collect my thoughts. That will do very well, I think,” returned
Mrs. Bristow.
She folded up the letter, put it in an envelope, addressed it, and
placed it on the shelf where her husband could not fail to see it.
This done she felt greatly relieved.
“Now let us away at once,” cried the girl. “Give me the bag.”
“But where are we going to?”
“To Stanningley. An aunt of mine lives there, a dear old soul. We can
remain with her as long as we like, but there’s no occasion for us to
stop unless we choose.”
“How far is it?”
“Oh, it must be over five miles, but we must have a fly.”
“And the money?”
“I’ve got enough for our immediate wants.”
The girl had not spent the last sum Peace had sent her, in addition to
which she had some of her own little savings.
A fly was procured. As they were about to step into this, the
gentleman they had met at the concert, at which Charles Peace
appeared, now accosted them.
“Well, ladies, whither away in this hurry?” said he, in a tone of
surprise.
Bessie put her companion into the fly, then she hurried towards her
male friend.
“Ah! Mr. Chipp,” she ejaculated, “how glad I am we have met with you!
Something has occurred――something terrible,” as she nodded towards the
passenger in the vehicle.
She proceeded to give a rapid account of the assault upon Mrs.
Bristow, and wound up by informing her friend that his wife had left
him for good and for all.
“It’s not to be wondered at,” said Mr. Chipp. “The only surprise to me
is, and has always been, that she consented to live with the brute for
so long a time.”
“I want to see you, sir, about a little matter of business. Want your
advice, but have not time to explain matters now.”
“Very well, I shall be much pleased to see you to-morrow, if that will
suit you; if not, on the following day. You know the hotel I’m
stopping at?”
“Yes. If I can manage to see you to-morrow, I will most certainly do
so, or the day after.”
“Very good――I am at your service.”
He now drew close to the vehicle, and shook its inmate warmly by the
hand.
Mrs. Bristow had taken the precaution to wear a thick veil, which she
wore down, so that the injuries done to her face were not discernible.
“I am pleased to have met you,” observed Mr. Chipp; “and, believe me,
I hope and trust a more happy future is in store for you.”
He raised his hat to both females, and went on his course.
Bessie Dalton jumped into the fly, and the driver pushed forward in
the direction of Stanningley.
Bessie chatted merrily during the greater part of the journey, but her
companion remained sad and thoughtful.
Upon the travellers arriving at their destination, Bessie conducted
her companion to a small, mean-looking cottage, in the rear of which
was a large and well-cultivated garden.
The place was primitive enough in appearance.
Bessie Dalton unfastened the front door, which was opened with a small
latch, and entered the parlour.
An exclamation of surprise, which was not unmixed with pleasure,
proceeded from its solitary occupant.
“Why, Bessie, lass, who ever thought of seeing you?” cried a
well-known voice.
“My dear aunt,” said Bessie in reply. “I have brought with me a very
near and dear friend of mine, Mrs. Bristow, of whom you have often
heard me speak.”
“You are welcome,” observed the old lady, addressing herself to her
visitor. “I am much pleased to make your acquaintance. My niece has
made me familiar with your name. Sit down.” The speaker handed a chair
as she made this last observation.
The three women were very soon on the best of terms, and an animated
conversation was kept up for the best part of the evening. A frugal
supper was served by the hostess, and Bessie Dalton and Mrs. Bristow
shared the only spare bed in the establishment.
They had, however, but a short period of rest that night, both being
in too great a state of excitement to make sure of unbroken slumber.
They rose early, and having dressed, bethought them of what to do.
“I’ve thought over and over again the best course for you to adopt,”
said Bessie, who had already been tacitly acknowledged to be
commander-in-chief; “and the more I consider, the more I feel
convinced that my first idea is the best.”
“And what might that be?” inquired her companion.
“You will become a fine lady――that’s what you are destined to be.”
Mrs. Bristow laughed at the naive manner of the speaker.
“Ah, you may laugh; but I tell you that’s what will happen. I’ve laid
it all down as nicely as possible. Listen. There is no place in
England, so I’ve been told, equal to London for concealment. You must
take up your abode there, change your name, and no one will suspect
that you are the wife of a poor mechanic.”
“Change my name!”
“Most certainly you must do that. Pass yourself off as a widow.”
“I should never have the courage to do that.”
“You must; don’t tell me you haven’t courage. What matters――who’s to
know? You have money, and to the possessor of money everybody pays
homage. We all know that.”
“You certainly are a most extraordinary girl,” observed Mrs. Bristow,
in a reflective manner. “What in the name of goodness could have put
such thoughts into your head?”
“Common sense; that’s all, my dear. I am only using common sense in a
matter which, to say the truth, requires a considerable amount of that
useful commodity. To remain here, or anywhere else in this county,
would be the worst of folly. Change your name, take quiet, respectable
apartments at the west end of London, and make your life as happy as
possible. You have suffered enough, and deserve to taste a little of
the sweets of life. Do you see that?”
“Ah, I acknowledge the truth of your observations.”
“Very good. And now, first of all, let us make an examination of the
little store. Lock the door, dear. We don’t want anybody prying into
our secret――not even my aunt. In a case like this, it’s best to keep
one’s own counsel.”
Mrs. Bristow rose suddenly from her seat, and crept softly towards the
door, which she locked.
“Now for it,” said Bessie. “Now for the notes.”
She drew them forth, and placed them on the dressing-table.
The first upon which her eye lighted was a note for the sum of one
thousand pounds. This was followed by many more for a like sum. In
addition to these there were many for one hundred, two hundred, as
also others for smaller and larger sums.
Reckoning the whole of them up they represented an amount exceeding
fourteen thousand pounds.
[Sidenote: No. 8.]
[Illustration: THE YOUNGER SERVANT STRUCK PEACE WITH THE MOP, AND LAID
HIM SENSELESS.]
The two women were astounded at the prodigious sum.
“What say you to that?” inquired Bessie.
“I feel like one who is walking on a precipice, and expects every
minute to topple over. That’s how I feel.”
“You’ll get used to it in time. Oh, you’ll get used to it, believe
me.”
“But are the notes genuine?”
“I do not doubt it for a moment. You had now better take charge of
your own property; sew them up in your stays. That will be the best
plan till we see what can be done with them.”
“But where can we get notes for so large an amount changed without
exciting suspicion?”
“That will require a little thought. It won’t do to be too hasty in a
matter of this sort. If one note is good they are all right, depend
upon that. I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“You’ve got one for fifty pounds?”
“Yes.”
“I will ask Mr. Chipps to change it. He’ll have no objection to oblige
either of us.”
“But he’ll want to know where we got it from.”
“I will tell him, my dear――a legacy, a legacy. Don’t you see it was
bequeathed to you by a relative? I have promised to see him either
to-day or to-morrow. I will take this note with me.”
“As you please. I leave it to you. Indeed, without you I know not how
I should get on at all.”
Having agreed upon this course of action Bessie Dalton in the earlier
portion of the day started off for the town of Bradford, leaving her
friend in charge of her aunt.
The looking-glass in which the notes were found was originally in the
possession of an old miser, named Nathan Schreiber.
He was a refiner, and dealt in metals of every description. In
addition to this he was a usurer.
Living in an old dilapidated house in one of the back streets of his
native town he contrived to drive a prosperous trade; but throughout
his whole life declared he was miserably poor.
He was plagued by a number of poor relations, some of whom, it is
believed, robbed him.
Anyway, in the last closing years of his life, he was under the
impression that his rapacious relatives would send him out of the
world before his time.
This thought haunted him by day and by night.
He was eccentric to the last degree. He grew old and feeble, and prior
to his last illness he unfastened the back of his looking glass and
laid the notes carefully on the silvering at the back of the plate.
This done, he replaced the backboard in its original position, and
felt a grim satisfaction at glancing at the glass on the table by the
side of his bed, upon which he shortly breathed his last.
As a matter of course after his decease the house was pretty well
filled with his relatives.
A search was made for a will; none could be found. The effects he left
behind, however, realised a considerable sum.
The distribution of this was the occasion of a wrangle, and the
acrimonious feeling evinced by some of his heirs was in no way
creditable to them. The property left by old Schreiber was sold by
public auction.
A tradesman in the town bought several articles of household
furniture. Among them was the looking-glass containing the notes. The
tradesman afterwards became bankrupt, his furniture was sold off, and
a broker bought two lots, in one of which the glass was included.
Mrs. Bristow afterwards purchased it of the broker for the sum of
fifteen shillings. The end of this we have already seen.[2]
When Bessie Dalton reached the hotel at Bradford she inquired for Mr.
Chipp, and was at once shown into a room where she found her friend
seated.
She entered into a full description of the assault on Mrs. Bristow,
and wound up by informing him that the latter had left him for good,
but did not as yet know where she was to take up her quarters.
It would appear that Mr. Chipp had, for some reason which was best
known to himself, been desirous of continuing the acquaintance of the
two females he had met for the first time at the concert given for the
benefit of the weaver’s widow and children.
He had paid frequent visits to the house in which Bessie and her
friend resided, and had at all times taken great interest in them; and
therefore, Bessie, who was the most self-possessed of the two, had no
compunction in seeking his advice on the present occasion.
“She’s had a legacy――a little money left her,” said Bessie, “and my
advice is that she sees no more of that wretch of a husband of hers,
but go up to London at once, and see if she can get something to do.”
“The best advice you can give her.”
“And I’ve brought with me a fifty pound note, which we don’t know
where to get changed. Perhaps you can oblige us?”
She handed him the note――not, however, without some misgivings.
He looked carefully at it, and appeared perfectly satisfied.
“I have not so much money about me, but I can give you a cheque if
that will do. You can get it changed before you return.”
“Oh, thank you, Sir! That would be indeed a favour.”
“Not at all,” said her companion, carelessly. “Happy to have it in my
power to oblige you.”
He drew the cheque for the required sum, and handed it to the girl.
Then, with a smile, he said――
“Then, I suppose I am going to lose sight of you ladies.”
“Oh dear, I hope not, Sir!”
“Umph! Do you go with your friend?”
“I have not decided as yet. Poor thing! She is sadly borne down just
now, and needs some one to be with her. I suppose I had better see her
on her journey.”
Mr. Chipp nodded assent to this proposition, and murmured――
“Yes, it would be better for you to do so.”
“You see, we are not at all busy at the factory,” said Bessie; “and I
can be well spared, for a short time at all events.”
“It does not appear to me that they are busy anywhere,” observed her
companion. “I shall not remain much longer in this town, but return to
London before next week is over. Have you heard or seen anything of
the fiddler?”
He alluded to Peace, whom he had, since the night of the concert,
invariably designated as the fiddler.
“I have not heard from him lately,” answered Bessie, carelessly.
The gentleman smiled, but made no further inquiries.
Bessie now took her departure, and bent her steps in the direction of
the bank. Upon presenting the cheque, she elected to take the amount
in gold.
She then returned to her aunt’s residence, and made Mrs. Bristow
acquainted with the successful nature of her expedition.
In a few days after this the two women started off for the metropolis.
[2] The concealment of notes to a large amount betweeen the
plate and back board of a looking-glass is true in substance
and in fact. A case similar to the one described came under
the writer’s own knowledge. Many years ago, in Cheshire, a
woman in a humble position of life accidentally broke a
looking-glass which she had had in her possession for very
many years. To her infinite surprise she discovered a number
of bank-notes, concealed at its back. The case attracted
considerable attention at the time, and she handed the
property so found over to the stipendiary magistrates, who
ultimately decided that the property so found was hers, and
the notes were consequently returned to her. There are many
persons now living who can attest to the truth of this
statement, which proves the oft-repeated adage that “truth
is strange――stranger than fiction.”