Upon coming in front of Mr. Simmonds’s respectable establishment Peace

alighted, and without further ado took one of the hampers into the

Jew’s shop.

“I am happy and proud to see you,” cried Simmonds. “Anything in my

way?”

“Yes,” returned Peace. “You can look over the articles in this hamper,

and see what you can afford to give for them.”

“Yesh, yesh, my tear friend, I vill do so, but business is bad and

money is tight――still I’ll do my best for you.”

“I am not going to be chiselled if I can help it,” returned Peace; “so

don’t think to come any of your hanky-panky tricks over me.”

“Lord bless us, how suspicious you are! S’help me goodness, I do my

best for all of you, my very best. But I say just bring the things

into the back parlour, there’s a good fellow. Oh, you don’t know what

risks we run.”

Peace dragged the hamper into the small room at the back of the shop.

The Jew then began to make a careful inspection of the articles as he

drew them forth. He approved them as he did so, putting them down on

the tablet of his memory at fifty per cent. less than their intrinsic

value.

While thus engaged he dodged and ducked his head, every now and then

peering into the front shop through the dingy and dirt-begrimed glass

of the door which separated the parlour from the outer shop.

There was, of course, the usual haggling――the price the Hebrew offered

was too ridiculous for Peace to accept. Then followed the expletives

and oaths, without which no bargain of this description could be

concluded. At length, however, Peace consented to take seventy pounds

for the goods, whereupon the Jew handed down a fifty pound note and

twenty sovereigns to our hero, who pocketed the same.

The bargain had hardly been concluded when two persons entered the

Jew’s shop. Mr. Simmonds looked through the curtain which hung over

the window of the door of the parlour, and uttered an exclamation of

surprise.

“What’s up?” cried Peace, in some alarm.

“Two detectives,” was the quick rejoinder.

“The devil!” exclaimed our hero, looking into the shop. “And one of

them――――”

“Well, what?” ejaculated Simmonds.

“One of the blokes I know; and what is worse he knows me.”

“And wants you?”

Peace nodded significantly.

“Gracious! However, I would not have a customer of mine ‘copped’ in my

place; no, not for the world.”

“What’s to be done,” said Peace. “Is there any means of escape? I must

not be seen by the tall ones or I am a lost man.”

“Father, two gentlemen want to speak to you,” said a youth in the

shop, who was Simmonds’s son.

“Fly up-stairs,” cried the Jew, “and hook it. I will keep them in

conversation. Step it at once.”

Peace required no second bidding; he left the back parlour just as the

Jew entered his shop.

“Your servant, gentlemen,” said he in oleaginous accents. “Vat can I

do for you?”

“Have you purchased a watch to day or yesterday, bearing on its face

the name of Velluming,” said one of the detectives.

“No! Haven’t purchased any watch for a week or more.”

“You are quite sure of that?”

“Oh, yes――certainly I am.”

“Wasn’t there a person in your back parlour when we entered?” said the

taller of the two.

“Nobody but myself,” returned Simmonds, in a confident tone.

The detectives exchanged glances, and conversed in whispers.

“We have very good reasons for doubting your statement, Mr. Simmonds,”

said one of them.

“Vell, gentlemen, I do hope you believe I wouldn’t tell you a

deliberate lie. Please tell me your business.”

“If you are speaking the truth there cannot be any possible objection

to your letting us search the premises.”

“But vat for? I haven’t done anything against the law?”

“No matter about that. Will you or will you not permit us to run over

the premises?”

“I think it is very unbecoming of you to make such a request,” said

Simmonds; “but I suppose you know your own business best. Search the

house if you like.”

The two detectives entered the back parlour. Of course Charles Peace

was not there. Then they passed out into the passage and began to

ascend the stairs leading to the upper rooms.

“I don’t think yer acting in at all a proper manner, gentlemen,”

exclained Simmonds, speaking as loud as he could, “and I must protest

against such proceedings. Do you think I harbour thieves?”

“We don’t _think_,” observed the detectives.

“Well, I won’t say any more, as I shall be only subjecting myself to

insults,” cried the Jew. “Rachel!” he said, in continuation, calling

to his wife, who was in one of the upstair rooms. “Don’t be alarmed,

tear. Two strange shentlemen are coming upstairs. They won’t hurt you.

Don’t be alarmed――it’s all right, they know their business, and I know

mine.”

“He must have got clear off by this time, I should suppose,” muttered

the Jew to himself. “If he hasn’t, vell, the Lord help him, for I

can’t.”

Charles Peace, after leaving the back parlour, at once made for the

topmost story of the house. In one of the back rooms he found a double

dormer window. He passed through this, closed it carefully after him,

and then gained the roof.

He must have considered himself hardly pressed, for after going along

the slates he got into another house through the window, which he also

closed after him.

The room in which he now found himself was unoccupied, but upon

descending below he came across a woman, who was the landlady of the

habitation. She was greatly surprised at beholding Mr. Peace, who,

however, put the best face on the matter.

“My dear madam,” said he, “I am sure from your appearance that you are

not one to refuse succour to a persecuted man. The police are after

me, and I have contrived to elude them for the present. Will you

befriend me?”

“How can I do that?”

“By letting me remain here for awhile.”

“But you may have committed some dreadful crime, and if such be the

case I shall get into trouble for harbouring you.”

“Do not be in any way alarmed――I have not committed any dreadful

crime. Do I look a man likely to do such a thing?”

“I can’t say you do, but appearances are often deceptive. What are you

charged with?”

“Oh, a mere trifle. Deserting my wife and children. The fact is, I

have been out of work, but now I am doing very well, and intend to

rejoin my family. But if I am caught it will be my ruin, for my

employer will, in all probability, discharge me. I will pay you

handsomely for the accommodation if you will only let me remain here.”

The woman, who was naturally kind-hearted, hesitated.

“It is a most extraordinary thing you entering the house in the way

you have done. I don’t know what to say about it.”

“Take pity on me. You will not refuse. I am known to some of your

neighbours, who will answer for my respectability.”

“Who do you know, then?”

“Mr. Simmonds; he will tell you all about me.”

“Ah, Mr. Simmonds――eh?” returned the woman, in dubious accents.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I know him as a near neighbour, that is all. Well, you had better

come downstairs and sit in the front parlour for a time.”

“Oh, thank you kindly. You are a dear good creature. I was sure of

that when I first saw you.”

“I would much prefer you going away at once.”

“So should I, if it were possible, but it is not, and you will let me

remain till the coast is clear.”

“Come down into the front parlour. What will my lodgers think of me,

talking to a perfect stranger in this way? Come down.”

“Ah, certainly, with the greatest pleasure.”

Peace descended, and was shown into the lady’s sitting-room.

“Now, sir,” said she, “you must make yourself as contented as

possible. I cannot find it in my heart to give you up to the police. I

hope and trust you have spoken the truth.”

“I swear――――”

“There is no necessity to do that. I will take your word, that is

sufficient.”

“Quite so. I am sure you will never regret doing this act of kindness

to a poor fellow in trouble.”

“I hope I never may have cause to regret it, but you certainly are a

most extraordinary sort of man, and that’s the truth.”

“It will be all right if I succeed in concealing myself so that I may

avoid needless exposure. I intend to return to my family to-morrow,

and then there will be an end of the business.”

While Charles Peace was concealed in the parlour of the house into

which he had so unceremoniously entered, the two detectives ran

through the rooms of the Jew’s habitation, but they could not discover

any stranger in any of the apartments which Mr. Simmonds opened

obsequiously one after the other.

The detectives saw they were at fault, and they assumed an apologetic

tone, and expressed their regret at having been so troublesome,

stating, at the same time, that they had a duty to perform, and that

they were in search of a gentleman who was “wanted.”

The Jew’s son, who had been left in charge of the shop, was a

sharp-witted, precocious young gentleman, who, like his father, had an

eye to business. He thought it just as well to take the articles, one

by one, which his father had purchased of our hero, and place them

under lock and key.

In their hurry to secure their man the detectives had forgotten to

examine these contraband goods, some of which had the initials of

their owner’s engraved on their face.

When Simmonds descended into the back parlour with the detectives, he

noticed the absence of the goods from the place where he had left

them, but he was by far too prudent a man to make any observation or

allude in any way to the subject.

“Good lad,” he murmured to himself. “Ah, he’ll make a bright man――he

has cleared all away. So much the better. He’s as good as gold――that’s

what he is.”

The detectives remained for some time in the shop, conversing with the

Israelite, who thought it just as well to be urbane and conciliatory

in his manner.

He was, however, at this time not at all aware of the magnitude of

Peace’s depredations or the grave charge which hung over his head;

neither did he know that one of the detectives hailed from Sheffield.

Peace, in dealing with the Jew, had taken the precaution never to give

his right name. The receiver of stolen goods, throughout his

acquaintance with him, had been under the impression that he was a

well-known London thief.

Bandy-legged Bill, who was waiting at the corner of the street for

Peace, did not know very well how to act. He saw the detectives enter

the Jew’s shop. He was seriously alarmed and trembled for his friend,

but he had at the same time unlimited faith in the resources of

“Charlie,” as he termed him.

Still he did not like to abandon him, and for a brief space of time he

debated with himself as to what had best be done under the

circumstances.

He was half inclined to alight, enter the shop, and see how matters

stood; but upon second thoughts he came to the conclusion that it

would be the worst possible policy for him to leave the trap, which

contained so much stolen property.

After cogitating for some time he deemed it advisable to drive off

without running risk of detection.

And so, while the coast was clear, off he drove.

Bill was very reluctant to abandon the field, but prudence dictated

this course of action, and he argued that he could be of no service to

Peace under any circumstances――so he drove off far away from the scene

of action.

And for his own as well as for his friend’s safety it was as well,

perhaps, that he did so.

But the detectives, after they left the Jew’s house, did not seem

disposed to leave the neighbourhood. The Sheffield man was under the

impression that he had seen some one in the back parlour of Simmonds’s

establishment the features of whom were like those of Charles Peace.

But he was by no means sure of this: he had only caught a fugitive and

transient glance of the face through the dingy windows of the door;

but whoever it might have been, the man in question――if there was a

second person in the little parlour, which he was by no means certain

of――had been spirited away in a most extraordinary manner.

The two detectives walked up and down the street more than once,

glancing as they passed along at the windows of the several houses,

with no very satisfactory result.

It was not at all likely that Mr. Peace would at this time be looking

out of the window of the one in which he was ensconced.

He was by far too clever a rascal for that, but the landlady of the

establishment saw the officers pass and repass and described their

appearance to our hero.

“Ah, it’s them safe enough,” cried Peace, “they are looking for me

without a doubt, and be blowed to them. My dear madam, I don’t know

how to sufficiently thank you for this timely shelter. You are my good

angel, my protector.”

“I hope I am not doing wrong,” returned the woman, “but if I am it

can’t be helped. I’m sure there is no telling who people are nowadays.

My dear husband used to say so, and he was quite right――one never can

tell.”

“Your husband,” said Peace, in some alarm――“where is he now?”

“Where is he?” cried the woman, with a shake of the head, “where,

indeed? Who knows? In a happier world, let us hope.”

“Ah,” said Peace――“he is dead then?”

“Why, of course he is. Has been dead three years come next September.”

Peace was greatly relieved when he heard that the good gentleman had

been removed to a happier sphere, since it would have been rather

awkward if he had presented himself and not taken the same humane view

of the case that his better half had done.

“Ah!” ejaculated our hero, “life is uncertain, and there is no telling

how soon we may go.” Here he cast his eyes up towards the ceiling, and

endeavoured to look sentimental. “The loss of a dear relative, and

especially a husband, is a sad trial.”

“It is,” returned the widow; “especially when one has to mourn the

loss of so good a husband as mine was.”

“I am pleased to hear you speak so well of him――it does you great

credit,” observed Peace, in a sanctimonious manner. “By the way,” he

added, “do you see those wretched men lurking about?”

“No, I don’t see anything of them now,” she answered as she peered

through the window curtain. “They appear to have gone.”

“So much the better,” said Peace.

The two detectives, not being able to see anything of the man whom

they had been so industriously seeking, went into several known houses

which they knew to be the haunts of thieves, but were equally

unsuccessful in their search. They lingered about the neighbourhood

after this for some considerable time and then took their departure,

being about as wise as they were when they first entered the house in

the occupation of the astute Mr. Simmonds.

But Charles Peace, who was a tolerably good judge of the proceedings

of detectives of every conceivable description, did not deem it

advisable to sally forth just at present; he, therefore, continued in

friendly discourse with the woman who had been of such essential

service to him.

He placed a sovereign on the table, of which he begged her acceptance;

but, although she was not by any means in affluent circumstances, she

declined to accept of the gratuity.

Peace, however, would not take any denial, and said he should be

greatly hurt and mortified if she did not permit him to prevail upon

her to accept of some small recompense for services rendered.

The woman was by no means mercenary. What she had done was simply a

matter of kindness and humanity on her part, and she had never for a

moment contemplated the matter in any other light than a natural

desire on her part to assist a fallen creature who was plunged into

the depths of trouble. However, after much persuasion on the part of

our hero, she reluctantly pocketted the sovereign.

“I should indeed be sorry if by any chance these men should find you

when you leave this house,” said the widow, “and therefore I think you

had better remain till after dark.”

“I am afraid I am in your way,” returned the burglar.

“Not at all, sir. You can have a bed and remain all night if you think

it advisable to do so.”

“There will be no necessity for that,” said he――“not the slightest

necessity. But I tell you what you can do to serve me.”

“What?”

“Have you got anybody who can be trusted to go round to Mr. Simmonds?”

“Dear me, yes. My little girl will go at once, if you wish it.”

“Let her go, then.”

“By the back way?”

“Yes――that would be better.”

The widow went into the passage, and called out in a loud voice the

name of “Netty” once or twice.

A little girl of about eleven years of age made her appearance.

“Now, then, tell me what she is to do,” observed the widow.

Peace slipped sixpence into the hands of the child, and told her to go

to Mr. Simmonds and say he wished to speak to him.

The child did as she was directed, and in a minute or so returned with

the Jew.

“Ah, you are safe――eh?” cried Simmonds. “Vell, you’ve done the trick

cleanly, old man. Given them the slip, s’help my goodness; but you’re

down us a hammer, and no mistake. I’d have been ready to have gone

clean mad if anything had happened to you in my place. All the years

I’ve been in business I never had a customer ‘copped’ at my

establishment.”

“Have they gone away do you think?” cried Peace.

“Ah, I hope so――and bad luck to ’em――but I won’t say for certain.

There’s no telling what gentlemen of their kidney may be up to, but I

think as how you are safe. Come with me, and I’ll show you how to get

clean off.”

Thanking the widow for her kindness, Charles Peace went out of the

back door of her residence in company with the Jew.

He found himself in a narrow blind alley.

The Jew led him through a labyrinth of narrrow courts, and they then

emerged into a wide street. Peace had not at this time the faintest

notion of where he was, but Simmonds led him into a house. In one of

the rooms on the basement a group of persons were assembled.

It was evidently the resort of thieves of every description, and was

an establishment much after the fashion of the one to which Laura

Stanbridge took Alf Purvis when he was a mere lad.

The Jew appeared to be pretty well known to most of the persons who

frequented this establishment, for many present spoke to him in a

familiar and jocular manner.

Simmonds sent a leary-looking man for a four-wheeled cab, and when the

vehicle drove up to the door of the house he bade Peace jump in

without further ado.

This our hero did without hesitation, and then the cab was driven

rapidly over the stones.

CHAPTER CXXXI.

THIEVES AND RECEIVERS.

The receiver of stolen goods, from whose establishment Charles Peace

had so cunningly contrived to make his escape, was an average sample

of his class.

There are hundreds, and, indeed it may be said, thousands of persons

of this description in the metropolis and the suburbs.

It has been remarked by many who have a pretty good knowledge of

characters of this description that without receivers there would be

no thieves, but we do not quite agree with this hypothesis. Thieves it

is not possible to eradicate, but certainly the receivers offer every

inducement for men to pursue dishonest courses, and it is most

remarkable how few are ever brought to justice.

One of the most celebrated men of his time was a Jew, named “Ikey

Solomons.”

He flourished some forty or fifty years ago, and his transactions with

thieves of every description were of a magnitude which appeared at the

time to be almost incredible and are said to have rivalled those of

the famous Jonathan Wild.

When quite an old man “Ikey” came to grief. He had up to the time of

his capture followed his nefarious calling for over half a century,

and had managed some how or other to escape detection.

He was tried at the Old Bailey, but was, to the best of our belief,

acquitted.

It has been said that Dickens drew his character of Fagin, in “Oliver

Twist,” from the celebrated Ikey Solomons, but we are not disposed to

give credence to this statement, as Ikey was, beyond the fact of his

being a Jew “fence,” in every way dissimilar to Dickens’s hero.

When the name of Charles Peace was in every human mouth public

interest was awakened by the spoils of a receiver of stolen property

falling into the hands of the police.

The following paragraph, from a newspaper of the period, will,

perhaps, interest the curious and inquisitive reader. It runs as

follows:――

“There is at present, at the Bethnal-green Police-station, under the

charge of Inspector Wildey, of the Criminal Investigation Department,

attached to the K division, and Detective-sergeants Rolfe and Wallis,

about one of the most extraordinary collections of stolen property

ever seen in this metropolis.

“The goods are laid out in the library and reserve-room of the

station, and consist of articles of almost every conceivable kind――at

least as far as things of a portable nature are concerned.

[Sidenote: No. 69.]

[Illustration: PEACE AND THE CABMAN HAVE A LIQUOR AT THE ELEPHANT AND

CASTLE.]

“First come some dozen or so of gold watches, from the ordinary Geneva

to the highly finished and expensive article from the shop of some

first-class London maker; then come silver watches, gold bracelets,

lockets, chains, and guards, rings set with precious stones, silver

spoons, forks, and fruit-knives.

“On another table is a quantity of really good electro-plate――one set

of forks, spoons, ladles, &c., being marked with the letter B, and are

supposed to have been the proceeds of some burglary committed a year

or two back.

“On a table in the middle of the room are strewn cigar-cases,

meerschaum pipes, small fancy thermometers, mantel ornaments of a

superior kind, opera glasses, books, photograph cases and albums, some

with portraits and some without, a large family Bible, a silver

snuff-box (‘presented to Sergeant Tierney by Mr. and Mrs. Maitland’),

Crimean medal, with the Balaclava and Sebastopol clasps, the property

of Private Wilson, of the Royal Marines; and three boxes, each

containing a dozen silver thimbles.

“On the mantelpiece are some half-a-dozen clocks, some of them of a

very expensive kind, and evidently taken from the house of well-to-do

people.

“Around the room are scattered coats, jackets, capes, shawls, rolls of

flannel, cloth, and linen, about fifty or sixty pairs of new boots,

and any number of umbrellas.

“Piled up against the wall are some sixty or seventy workboxes of

various sizes and kinds, from the humble article costing only a few

shillings to the more expensive article, which probably cost five or

ten guineas.

“Cases of claret, champagne, and brandy, railway and carriage rugs,

and a host of other things much too numerous to mention, but which do

not form a tithe of the bulk of property originally seized――the whole

lot, indeed, filling three large vans.

“These things were seized about eight weeks ago by Inspector Wildey,

in company with Sergeants Rolfe and Wallis, at a house in

Thomas-street, Commercial-road, the proprietor of which has been, for

the last twelve years, suspected by the police to be a receiver of

stolen property, but so cleverly has he managed his business that

until the last week there had been no chance of bringing anything home

to him.

“The way in which he was caught at last was as follows:――Two men were

apprehended on a charge of burglary, and one of them referred the

police to this individual for a character. Inspector Wildey thereupon

went to the house, and saw him, and he gave the man in question a most

excellent character. From what he saw at the place, however, Mr.

Wildey was induced to ask the magistrate for a search warrant, the

result of which was that the whole of the property referred to was

discovered there.

“Already articles relating to no less than thirty-two cases of

burglary or housebreaking have been identified among the things, and

fresh identifications are occurring daily.

“It is stated that seventeen years ago this modern Fagin was a poor

labouring man, but he now owns some thirty houses in and about the

district where he has been residing.”

It is not often, as we before observed, that persons of this class are

compelled to disgorge their ill-gotten gains, or come within the

meshes of the net the law has woven for them.

As a rule, they were by far too cautious and cunning to be caught

napping.

But occasionally, and only occasionally, is it that one of the

fraternity gets into trouble, and even then he generally manages to

slip out of the hands of justice.

During the period between the trial and the execution of that eminent

homicide and burglar the late Mr. Charles Peace, the public manifested

a not unnatural curiosity to ascertain how he had managed to dispose

of the great number of various articles which from time to time had

come into his possession in the practice of a profitable but

venturesome calling.

This anxious pursuit of knowledge――not altogether for its own sake――on

the part of the payers of police-rates ultimately reached the ears of

Mr. Peace himself, who, apart from his homicidal and acquisitive

tendencies, was, like most other musical amateurs, an amiable and

obliging person.

Finding there was not even a remote chance of breaking prison and

escaping the attentions of Mr. Marwood, Mr. Peace supplied the police

with a full and accurate list of purchasers of stolen property with

whom he had had business transactions up and down the country.

If we recollect rightly, a subsequent conditional promise was made on

behalf of the guardians of order that the convict’s allegations should

be thoroughly investigated, and that, if these were found accurate,

the persons pointed at should be prosecuted with the utmost rigour of

the law.

Whether the promised inquiry was ever commenced we cannot say.

It is, however, an indisputable fact that but for the existence of the

class of individuals to whom Peace disposed of his booty, that adroit

criminal might have earned an honest livelihood as violinist in an

operatic or theatrical orchestra. The receivers are always ready to

the hands of the thief.

Even without the assistance of persons of Mr. Peace’s profession, the

police know of their existence, their whereabouts, and their manner of

prosecuting a most lucrative and not sufficiently dangerous trade;

but, from a mistaken leniency in the spirit of our law, these worst of

criminals are left undisturbed.

The police――often conveniently blind――are nothing if not arithmetical.

Armed with a note-book and a pencil, they penetrate into the most

secret recesses of a guilty commerce, and, having tabulated the number

of “fences” in England and Wales, complacently suffer wrong-doing to

take its course.

Either the crime of receiving stolen goods is on the increase, or the

receivers are growing less fortunate; since the number of commitments

for this specific offence was, according to the latest returns, four

hundred and eighty in 1878, against four hundred and fifteen in 1877.

On the other hand, the known houses for the receipt of stolen goods

slightly vary numerically from year to year, the average being about

one thousand one hundred, and the known thieves and receivers of

stolen goods and suspected persons may be roughly estimated at close

upon forty-one thousand.

If the net of the law were spread, and these houses shut up and their

occupants taken care of, crimes against property would at once fall to

a minimum, the criminal courts would soon become idle, and respectable

citizens might lie down to rest without fear of the “villainous

centre-bit.”

Within the last few weeks another case has come under the notice of

the police.

It would appear that, a great number of robberies having lately been

committed in the Western suburbs of London, the attention of the

police was called to the flourishing establishment of a marine-store

dealer, of Pimlico.

We have no desire to prejudice the case of the person at present under

remand. Marine-store dealers are not supposed to traffic in jewels and

gold, in the settings of personal ornaments made of the precious

metals, from which the gems seem to have been ruthlessly severed, or

in household plate from which the crests appear to have been recently

erased.

All the same, the marine-store man may have come by such objects of

art and luxury in a perfectly lawful manner; and inasmuch as he stands

remanded, without bail, on a charge of receiving a stolen silver

medal, it is only fair to assume him innocent.

Unfortunately for him his recollection of certain late commercial

transactions did not tally with the information of Inspector White and

Sergeant Day, of the B Division of police.

It happened that these agents of the law, having occasion to call at

the shop to inquire whether its owner purchased any plate that day,

the marine-store keeper was so ill-advised, or of such uncertain

memory, as to deny the soft impeachment.

Mr. White, however, proved too pressing for him, and, accompanied by

his fellow-officer, followed him and his wife upstairs, where they

came upon a store of treasure of more than Oriental splendour and

variety.

There, upon tables and under beds, and strewn about in confusion, the

police found gold coins, travelling bags, bank notes, blue serge,

watches, chains, tablecloths, brooches, lockets, studs, silver plate,

pieces of alpaca, cutlery, artificial teeth, slippers, shawls, lead,

and brass, and articles of almost every description――among other

things, certain stolen property traced directly from the prosecuting

owner.

It is, of course, within the bounds of possibility that the

marine-store dealer may have purchased the articles catalogued in the

regular way of business; and he may rest assured that every

opportunity will be afforded him to make his title clear, not only to

the silver medal, but to every item so opportunely discovered on his

premises.

The broken jewellery found at Pimlico may have been accidentally

damaged by the manufacturers themselves.

It is possible that the late proprietor of the silver drinking-cup, in

the shape of a thimble, with “Just a thimbleful” in blue round the

rim, shocked at the temptation to dram-drinking which its possession

hourly put in his way, may have adopted a peculiar form of local

option and chosen to dispose of the bauble to the shopkeeper for value

received.

The pair of gold solitaires engraved with “a cock in the act of

crowing” may have offended the æsthetic tastes of their former holder;

the gilt whistle may have been found too noisy by its late custodian,

and the lockets fitted with hair and the portraits of children need

not necessarily have been stolen to have passed into the hands of

respectable tradesmen.

We sincerely trust that the accused may be able to prove his innocence

to the satisfaction of a British jury.

At the same time, it may not be thought out of place to call attention

to the crying evil involved in the existence of a class of

persons――quite independently of individuals――who, although shrewdly

suspected by the police to be buyers of stolen goods, are left

undisturbed to their mischievous avocations.

Stolen goods are habitually disposed of through the medium of the

pawnbroker, the leaving-shop, the marine-store dealer, the assayer or

dealer in gold or silver, and the professional “fence,” the last of

whom has reduced his calling to a regulated system, and has his agents

in different parts of the country and on the Continent, to whom he

consigns parcels of stolen property with all the forms of regular

commerce.

If the police could be induced to speak they might recount the

histories of individuals who, after long careers of moral infamy in

this line of business, have blossomed into respectable retirement in

surburban mansions.

They are among the most difficult sort of criminals to convict. The

transactions of the firm are generally managed by a strong-minded,

subtle rogue, who keeps the majority of those to whom he disposes of

his ill-gotten gains in ignorance of his and their true character.

The pawnbroker is generally more sinned against than sinning; for, if

stolen property can be traced to his possession, he is forced by law

to restore it to the right owner without compensation.

While, however, the pawnbroker is licensed and subject to many

disabilities in the prosecution of his calling, the keeper of the

leaving shop is a mere unlicensed usurer in a small way, generally

ready to advance petty sums on all sorts of portable property without

asking questions as to its rightful possession.

Even when this sort of person is not a regular “fence” for the lowest

class of thieves, he robs the very poor by taking exorbitant interest.

He should be suppressed and eradicated root and branch.

When lead is stolen from the roofs of buildings, or metal fittings

purloined from uninhabited houses, such plunder almost invariably

finds its way to the den of the marine-store dealer, who also

encourages servants to acts of wilful extravagance in the choice and

rending down of fat meat by purchasing the residue, without comment or

inquiry, as “kitchen stuff.”

The pretended assayer and dealer in gold and silver usually has his

shop in some respectable part of the town, and in the neighbourhood of

_bonâ-fide_ establishments for the purchase and sale of the precious

metals.

He makes little, if any, display of goods in his window, and the thief

once inside his carefully-enclosed shop is safely screened from the

gaze of the passers by.

This worthy tradesman has a spout at the back of his counter

communicating with a floor above, in which is situated the “soup,” or

melting, pot.

The thief may hand in for disposal, at well-understood prices,

ornaments in the most precious of metals, possibly treasure trove in

the shape of some great wrought Saxon collar of gold, or Queen Anne

silver plate.

It is all “stock” that comes to the “soup” kettle of this sort of

gentry. A few minutes after the chain or ladle, bracelet or salver, is

handed across the counter the materials are reduced to their original

state.

Form vanishes, and with it most of the chances of detection. These

facts are not unknown to the police, and it may well be asked whether

the suppression of an avoidable evil of great magnitude and importance

would not fairly come within the duties of a public prosecutor.

In the stolen goods department of commerce, as in many other things,

prevention is better than cure.

Subject to some few exceptions, a shop within the metropolitan

district is a “market overt,” the keeper of which is free, without

fear of the law, to buy or sell anything he pleases, from a malachite

snuff-box to a Prayer-book bound in ivory, or from a cedar-wood

workbox to a set of gold solitaires.

Browne has a right, no doubt, to claim that he must be held innocent

until the offence with which he stands charged is actually proved.

But the commonest consideration must show the case to be one of very

grave suspicion, and the sitting magistrate sufficiently showed his

opinion of the facts as put before him when he refused to listen to

any application for bail.

Without, however, impugning the innocence of the prisoner in the

present instance, there can be no doubt that receiving stolen

property, or “fencing,” as it is technically known at Scotland-yard,

is largely practised in London by the class of tradesmen to which he

belongs.

The difficulty the police always have with the “fence” is to bring the

guilty knowledge home to him.

The skilled “fence” will purchase nothing the identity of which cannot

be at once destroyed without very materially depreciating its value.

Some few years ago the Messrs. Hancock, of Bruton-street, discovered,

at their stock-taking, that jewellery――principally consisting of

brilliant diamond rings and bracelets――was missing to the value of

several thousand pounds.

They said nothing, but put the police on the alert. A few days later a

little boy offered a marine-store dealer a small mass of mis-shapen

metal tied together with a string.

The boy was detained, and the metal proved to be the settings of the

missing jewellery. The boy declared he had picked them up in the mud

of the Thames off Battersea, and there was every reason to believe his

story.

Evidently the whole of the plunder had come into the hands of a single

receiver; the stones had been wrenched out of their setting, and the

gold itself had been actually thrown away.

As for the stones, they no doubt found their way to Amsterdam, or the

Hague, or Antwerp.

But the “fence” escaped detection, although it is possible that the

thief himself was discovered in the person of one of the shopmen, who

pleaded guilty to several small robberies, but obstinately denied all

knowledge of the larger offence.

When Lady Ellesmere’s jewels, valued at fifteen thousand pounds, were

stolen from the top of a cab in 1857, they came into the possession of

a small shopkeeper and tallyman, who paid rather less than ten pounds

for them.

The thieves were ignorant of the true value of their booty, and the

“fence” represented that the articles were mere “Brummagem ornaments,”

worth a few shillings at the most.

The purchase of stolen goods is a trade so lucrative, and offers so

direct an incentive to crime in others, that, when it is fully brought

home, the offender cannot, in the public interest, be too severely

dealt with.

If there were no receivers there would be hardly any professional

thieves. Their detection, as we have said, is difficult, for the

simple reason that a detected and convicted thief knows, as a rule,

that he has very little, if anything, to gain by putting such

information as he can give at the disposal of the police.

Were pardons or remissions of sentences more frequently granted as the

reward of Queen’s evidence, it ought to be perfectly possible to hunt

down every professional receiver in the metropolis.

The law finds it at all times difficult to deal with receivers of

stolen goods, who, as a rule, contrive somehow or other to baffle and

elude its most vigilant and acute officers.

Thieves, however, are less fortunate than receivers: they are

frequently brought to the bar of justice, and have to undergo various

terms of imprisonment, but it is a most remarkable fact, that in most

cases, after the habitual thief has served his time, he invariably

returns to his dishonest practices.

It seems almost impossible to effect a reformation in such cases, and

punishment is of no avail.

Some men pass two-thirds of their lives in prison, and yet are as

hardened and callous as ever.

We do not believe it would have been possible to have effected a

reformation in Charles Peace, no matter what mode of treatment had

been adopted. He was so radically bad that he was past all cure, and

there are at the present time, hundreds and thousands of ruffians

preying upon the public, who are equally unreliable.

But Peace was a man of exceptional qualifications. He was steeped up

to the very lips in crime, and we shall find it difficult to find a

parallel to him either in this or any other country.

Some time since America furnished us with an example of a hardened

offender, who in some respects resembled the hero of this work.

The man to whom we allude was twenty-one years a convict, and he is

thus described by an American journalist:――

“The attention of many passers-by upon Main-street, in this city, on

Tuesday afternoon, says the Jackson (Mich.) _Citizen_, of Dec. 8, was

attracted by the somewhat striking appearance of an old man, of

slight, wiry frame, but bent by age and toil; dressed neatly, but in

plain, coarse garments, that had evidently been selected at random

from a miscellaneous collection, and whose actions were rendered

noticeable by that vague uncertainty and indecision so characteristic

of those who have for many long years been isolated from the world

within the walls of a penitentiary.

“As the old man wandered along, keenly observant of every passing

object, scanning the features of hurrying pedestrians with a

scrutinising gaze, as if in search of one familiar face――anon lifting

his head to look upon the bright blue sky above him, and then turning

with an interest almost childish in its eagerness, to the

contemplation of some trivial scene or object upon which the busy,

bustling throng would scarce bestow a passing glance, as he moved

slowly along with his withered hand drawing the scanty coat more

closely about his shoulders, and yet with an expression of happiness

lighting up his countenance, which told that he was oblivious to age

and poverty and cold――there were many who turned to look after him as

he passed, and wonder who he was and what his history.

“Few they were, however, who knew that the old man was none less than

Silas Doty――‘Old Sile Doty,’ as he is best known to the public-whose

startling exploits as a daring, adroit, and skilful horse-thief,

burglar, and gaol-breaker were once celebrated throughout the entire

country.

“Twenty years, nine months, and twenty-six days of this singular man’s

life have been passed in hard labour within the massive walls of the

State prison in this city, and Tuesday his third term of imprisonment

expired, and he came forth into the world once more, a free man.

“Silas Doty was born at St. Albans, Vt., on the 30th of May, 1800, and

is therefore over seventy years of age, although his appearance would

not indicate him to be a person of over fifty-five. He is a small,

wiry-built man, about five feet seven inches in height, and probably

weighing about 130 pounds, but still evidently possessed of unusual

muscular power――quick and active as a cat, and with a mind evidently

vigorous and unimpaired by his long retirement from the world.

“‘Old Sile’s’ personal appearance is rather prepossessing than

otherwise, and when we look upon his pleasant, good-natured face, and

observe the merry twinkle in his eye, we find it rather difficult to

reconcile him with the reckless, dare-devil horse-thief of our

imagination, conjured up by the thrilling tales related to us in our

juvenile days.

“‘Old Sile’ has a very keen appreciation of humour; he dearly loves a

joke, and never better than when the laugh is at his own expense.

“He is quite free to relate the experiences and vicissitudes which he

has passed through, and the history of them would fill a volume,

surpassing in thrilling interest, romantic situations, and striking

events, many a work of fiction.

“The earlier years of Doty’s life were passed in the State of New

York, and were not marked by anything of unusual interest or more than

ordinary occurrence. He was brought up upon a farm, and followed

agricultural pursuits for a long time after his removal to Lenawee

county, in this State.

“He was known among his neighbours as a quiet, inoffensive,

good-natured man, possessed of great activity and strength, which

rendered him quite a local celebrity as a chopper, mower, &c.

“It was said at one time that he was the ‘champion cradler’ of the

State――certainly of that section in which he resided. He was a man who

was not (nor ever had been) addicted to the use of intoxicating liquor

and tobacco; but while he was possessed of very many excellent traits,

it was pretty generally understood that he didn’t have a fine

appreciation of the rightful title of personal property, and was prone

to convert to his own use any article which he might stand in need of,

even though the ownership vested in some other party.

“Yet it must be acknowledged that there were some good points about

‘Old Sile’s’ stealing. He was a philanthropic thief; he would steal

from his richer neighbours to aid those in destitute circumstances.

“In fact, there was something about his thefts akin to Claud Duval,

Dick Turpin, and those other English knights of the road, whose

exploits are handed down to posterity, through the medium of

yellow-covered historical works of doubtful moral tendency.

“If one of Mr. Doty’s poor neighbours came over to his house and

wanted to borrow a log chain, Sile would inform him that he would have

one for him the next day, and he would; while some other one of his

neighbours would be one log chain short.

“The first charge upon which he was arrested was that of

horse-stealing in Lenawee county, in the latter part of 1841. He broke

gaol soon after his arrest, but was recaptured and sentenced to the

State prison for a term of two years, entering that institution for

the first time April 9, 1842. Here he served his full term, and soon

after his discharge went to New Orleans, where he engaged as body

servant to Gen. Scott, at a salary of 45 dol. per month in gold. He

went with that officer to Mexico, and stole Santa Anna’s army into a

state of destitution wherever he went.

“A great variety of adventures, some of them of decided interest, were

sustained by Doty while in Mexico, where he continued filling various

positions as cook, waggon-driver, body-servant, &c., until the end of

the war, when he returned to this State.

“For a little over seven years it is a statistical fact that he kept

out of prison, but he good-humouredly excuses this off by the plea of

absence from the State during the most of that time.

“Several times Doty was arrested, broke gaol, and escaped conviction

in various ways. One of these cases was one of particular interest.

“Being arrested in the winter of 1850 on a charge of horse-stealing,

he was confined in several gaols, but persisted in breaking right out

again with such unceasing regularity that he was finally locked up in

the Angola, Ind., gaol for safe keeping.

“These quarters, however, did not suit him, and although he was

heavily ironed and carefully watched, he soon succeeded in effecting

his escape by cutting the bar of his cell window with a small saw

which he had manufactured out of the blade of an old case knife.

“At the time of his escape his ankles were fettered with irons

weighing thirty-five pounds, but he succeeded in hobbling to the barn

of the prosecuting attorney of the county, who lived near the gaol,

and appropriated that functionary’s horse.

“A short distance from Angola he broke open a blacksmith’s shop, and

procured therefrom a cold chisel and hammer, which he took with him to

the woods and tried ineffectually to free himself from his fetters.

“Failing in this, he remounted and rode a distance of over thirty

miles, when he left the horse and stole a fresh one, riding that for a

considerable distance, and then abandoned it for another. In this way,

and by dint of riding nights, and keeping in unfrequented roads and in

the woods, he succeeded in reaching his former residence in Hillsdale

county.

“Here, during the night, he went to the house of friends, and by them

was accompanied into the woods, and while one held a tallow candle,

another succeeded in striking the irons from Doty’s ankles.

“Being thus freed from his annoying incumbrance, he proceeded to pick

out another horse (although Sile strenuously insists to this day that

this animal was his own property), and started for Detroit, intending

to cross into Canada, and there dispose of the steed, but upon

arriving at Detroit, to his disappointment, he found that the river

was but partially frozen, and that a crossing was impracticable.

“He therefore turned his horse’s head in the direction of Port Huron,

intending to make his way into Canada from that point. Upon arriving

at Port Huron, the attention of the officers there was attracted by

the jaded, travel-worn appearance of both horse and rider, and Doty

was arrested upon suspicion of having stolen the animal.

“This arrest, after all his struggles and escapes, and when his

destination was so close at hand, was extremely discouraging, but Sile

Doty was a man of iron will and indomitable purpose, and proved

himself equal to the emergency.

“He was taken for safe keeping to one of the upper rooms of a hotel,

and his hands secured with handcuffs, separated from each other by a

heavy iron bar about twelve inches in length, which consequently kept

his hands that distance apart. Of course Doty’s first move, when left

alone, was to seek for some means of escape.

“He found with a proper tool he could unscrew the lock upon the door.

He had nothing in his possession but an old spear, but he broke all

the points from that in unavailing efforts to unfasten the lock.

“Soon after this the sheriff came to his room, and consented to take

Doty down to the stable to look at ‘his’ horse.

“While in the stable Doty espied a mason’s trowel lying upon a box

near him, and succeeded in slipping it unobserved into his side

coat-pocket, and upon his returning to his room secreted it in the

straw mattress of his bed.

“Feigning illness, Doty disrobed with the exception of his shirt,

drawers, and socks, which he retained, and prepared for bed, after

being handcuffed as before.

“The officers again left the room, but to Doty’s dismay they took his

clothing with them, and gave him the comforting assurance that at nine

o’clock――it was then just dark――an officer would return and remain

during the night with him.

“No sooner had the officer reached the door below than Doty was at

work at the lock with his trowel.

“Screw after screw fell upon the floor, and the door stood open.

Stealthily making his way through the halls, and past the open doors

of rooms where persons were sitting, he finally reached a lower floor,

and following a rear passage-way, threw open an outer door, and

started back almost in utter despair at the prospect before him――the

prospect was certainly not an encouraging one.

“About three inches of snow had fallen, and the flakes were still

rapidly descending. The situation was not a pleasant one for a man in

pursuit of liberty――clad only in a thin shirt and drawers, with light

socks――no coat, hat, pants, or boots――heavy irons upon his wrists, and

a blank space of unbeaten snow before him to receive his tracks, and

to enable the officers to follow him with unerring accuracy; but, as

‘Old Sile’ expressed it to our reporter, ‘a man can never tell what he

can do until he makes a trial,’ and so he bravely accepted the

chances, although they were so fearfully against him.

“Plunging out into the snow and darkness, he ran as rapidly as

possible in the direction of a small blacksmith’s shop, which he

remembered to have seen that morning a short distance from the

village.

“Here he effected an entrance without much trouble, and fumbling

around among the tools, he found a large file, which he screwed into a

vice by the aid of his knees, and, alone in the dark, after repeated

failures, he succeeded in disengaging his bruised and bleeding wrists

from the irons, and once more started out into the stormy night.

“He thought that if he could conceal himself until after the stage

passed by, he could then follow the tracks of that vehicle with less

fear of detection. Near the roadside was a small marshy spot covered

with high reeds, and here the fugitive secreted himself until the

stage passed by, when he again took to the road.

“At the first opportunity he broke into a barn and secured a horse,

with which he proceeded to Mount Clemens, in Macomb county.

“Here he effected an entrance to a hotel, with the premises of which

he was familiar, and helped himself to a complete and comfortable suit

of clothing, which he carefully selected from the wardrobes of the

various guests with the utmost impartiality, and also procured some

slight refreshment from the pantry.

“He then remounted and pursued his journey without interruption to

within four miles of Detroit, when he stopped at the house of a friend

and left the horse which he had ‘borrowed’ near Port Huron, with

instructions to return it to the owner, which instructions were

afterwards fully carried out.

“The indefatigable Doty then proceeded to Detroit, and while there he

slipped into the United States Hotel――long since destroyed by

fire――and made some necessary additions to his somewhat limited

wardrobe.

“From thence it was an easy matter to get into Canada, where for some

time he worked at shoemaking, which trade he had learned at the

prison; but he soon became involved in a quarrel with his employer,

and after thoroughly ‘licking’ that individual, he came back to this

State.

“Several times after his return he narrowly escaped arrest, and became

the recognised leader of a gang of thieves who infested the southern

parts of the State.

“Soon afterwards he and several of his party were arrested for robbing

the waggon of a Jew pedlar from Detroit, who was travelling through

Hillsdale county. Doty was convicted upon this charge, and brought up

before the venerable Judge Pratt, then of Marshall, for sentence.

“Nearly everyone has read or heard the story of how Judge Pratt, who

was a man of very brusque manner, commanded the prisoner to stand up.

“‘Sile Doty,’ said the judge, ‘how old are you?’

“‘Fifty-three,’ responded Doty.

“‘The allotted age of man,’ said the judge, ‘is three score years and

ten; beyond that this court has no jurisdiction, and therefore

sentence you to confinement at hard labour, in the State prison at

Jackson, for a term of seventeen years.’

“So, on the 18th day of April, 1851, ‘Old Sile’ donned the striped

suit of a convict for a second time, and served for fifteen years five

months and twenty-six days, when, having gained several months ‘good

time,’ he was discharged.

“‘Old Sile’ then went to Coldwater, in Branch county, but in a few

months he was again arrested on a charge of horse-stealing, and upon

the 27th of July, 1867, commenced a third term at the prison, having

been sentenced for four years.

“Having, by meritorious conduct, gained about eight; months ‘good

time,’ he was discharged on Tuesday morning for the third, and, it is

to be hoped, for the last time.

“There are scores of incidents in relation to ‘Old Sile’ that might be

related, and would be of public interest, but space forbids their

enumeration.

“Mr. Doty left for Coldwater, Branch county, yesterday morning, and

intended to reside with his children in that place, and to follow his

trade of shoemaking. May success attend him, and may the world deal

gently with one who has suffered this severe punishment for his

misdeeds.

“Almost twenty-one years of this man’s life were spent within those

prison walls, and now, an old grey-headed man whose days are almost

numbered, he goes forth to start anew in the world, and to endeavour

to lead an honest life. This case is a most peculiar one.

“‘Old Sile’ does not appear to be a bad man at heart; indeed, there

are many men occupying important positions and moving in the higher

walks of society who are more deserving of the convict’s stripes than

‘Old Sile Doty.’

“It seems to be impossible for him to refrain from the wrongful

conversion of property, and it is a grave question with many as to

whether he is morally responsible for his acts.”

Charles Peace, when he had engaged the cab, told the driver thereof to

set him down at the “Elephant and Castle”――he, from prudential

motives, not deeming it expedient to be conveyed to his residence in

the Evalina-road. It was his practice at all times to make a sort of

break in the journey, that he might thereby baffle any attempt on the

part of the police and detectives to trace him to his own residence.

Upon arriving at the “Elephant and Castle” he alighted, and took the

cabman in front of the bar, where he stood a friendly glass. Drivers

of cabs, as a rule, have a weakness for hot rum and water, and the one

in question was not an exception――he elected to have a small modicum

of that inspiring beverage; and after it had been consumed Peace paid

the fare and discharged the knight of the whip. He remained in the

house of public accommodation for some time after the departure of the

cabman, and regarded the persons there assembled with a searching

glance.

He could not see anyone whom he suspected to be an officer of the law,

and concluded that no one was on his trail; but he was duly impressed

with the fact of having had a narrow escape――indeed, the number of

chances he had of being detected at this period of his career would,

if they were all chronicled, appear to be more like a romance than an

actual reality. But it is our purpose to sketch the most noticeable

and leading events in his lawless and chequered career, and these

will, of necessity, occupy sufficient space without entering into

every minute detail.

Fortune had favoured him this time, as she had done on many other

occasions.

He had succeeded in getting away from the Jew’s house, but he was

greatly troubled when he thought of Bandy-legged Bill, whom he had

missed sight of soon after his entrance into Mr. Simmonds’ respectable

establishment.

“What had become of him?” was the question he asked himself when in

front of the bar of the “Elephant and Castle.”

“Had he been captured; and if so, what followed?”

He had unlimited faith in Bill’s integrity. As far as he was concerned

he was quite certain that the gipsy would never “peach” or turn

approver. Still it was an ugly fact to reflect upon, that he had under

his charge a mass of stolen goods, which, if discovered, might lead to

his (Peace’s) detection.

This thought was by no means a pleasant one, and the more he

reflected, the more seriously concerned did Peace become.

He was uncertain as to his mode of action, and felt a little reluctant

to return home. He, therefore, went into the parlour of the

establishment and read the paper, without taking any notice of the few

persons who happened to be there at the time.

After this he hailed an omnibus, and made the best of his way to

Peckham.

His two female companions saw that he was a little out of sorts, and

when this was the case they did not pester him with any extraneous

questions.

He was not a nice sort of man to deal with when put out, and he would

not have hesitated to inflict personal chastisement on either of them,

if they aggravated him.

They knew this perfectly well, and had the discretion to abstain from

making any unnecessary observations.

But Peace was ill at ease, and as the evening drew on he put on his

hat, and sallied forth for a walk in the neighbourhood.

He never had been what is termed a “public-house man,” and only had

recourse to houses of that description either when plying his vocation

as a violin player, or from necessity.

It is, however, a fact established beyond all controversy that he was

not addicted to habits of intemperance. It was while strolling in the

neighbourhood that he discovered, much to his delight, the well-known

form of “Bandy-legged Bill.”

Nothing could be more propitious, for he wished to see the gipsy,

beyond all other persons in the world, at that particular time.

As he caught sight of him his features were irradiated with a smile.

“Lord send I may live!” cried that worthy; “but this ’ere is a blessed

sight.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Peace.

“What? Why to see you safe and sound. So you’ve managed to dodge them,

Charlie, eh?”

“Yes; and you?”

“Well, you see, I thought it wasn’t of no manner of use my stopping

outside that cursed crib. I wasn’t either of use or ornament, and so,

thought I to myself, I shall only be making matters worse by hanging

about, ’cause you see I had the stuff in the cart.”

“Quite right; it would have been madness to have remained there. So

you hooked it, I suppose?”

“I did so. Don’t think I deserted you in the time of need; it wasn’t

no fault of mine.”

“You did the best you could under the circumstances. Don’t imagine for

a moment that I blame you.”

“S’help my taters, but I have been in muck and no mistake. Didn’t know

how it fared with you, and I was in consequence knocked clean silly.

Couldn’t tell what to be up to.”

“What did you do, then?”

“Drove off as fast as I could, and got clean out of the neighbourhood.

What would you have had me do?”

“Just what you have, old stick-in-the-mud. And how about the baskets?”

“Ah, that’s where it is. That was what cornered me. I thought it best

anyhow to take a circumbendebus route, so I had a pretty little drive

in the country, all through the buttercups and daisies; but, Lord

bless you, Charlie, I didn’t enjoy the bootiful scenery, for I was

thinking all the while of the mess you had got into, and thinking at

the same time what chance you had of getting out of it. So, you see,

it wasn’t at all a pleasant ride I had――far from it. Howsomever, I

needn’t ask now how you got on, for you are here, and I’m jolly glad

to see you.”

“I had a narrow squeak for it, but I pulled through.”

“I sed as how you would――blessed if I didn’t. You’re a stunner, and I

had that confidence in you that I felt sartin sure you wouldn’t let em

cop you, but I warnt sure ’bout old Simmonds. How did he behave?”

“Right as the mail. He turned out a trump card.”

“I’m glad to hear it, precious glad.”

“Well, and after you drove in the country? What then?”

“Why, I says, says I, this is a bit of a fix. ’Cause, you see, in a

manner of speaking, I didn’t know very well how to get shut of the

stuff.”

“Why didn’t you take the whole lot to Isaac?”

“What, at that time, when the detectives were on the scent? No, no,

Charles, Bill knew a trick worth two of that body; lord bless you, the

chances were that they’d visit the houses of every Jew ‘fence’ in the

neighbourhood. Don’t you see that, old man?”

“That is true enough. So you did not venture to try an’ get rid of the

things――so much the better. What did you do after all then?”

“I didn’t know what to be up to――didn’t know a blessed cove as I could

trust at the east end of the town, so after a thinkin’ an’ thinkin’,

till my head ached, all of a sudden it occurred to me to make for what

you may call the fashionable quarters in London.”

“What do you call the fashionable quarters?”

“Why, the west end, in course.”

“Oh, I see.”

“It occurred to me that the best place for me to make for would be

Laura Stanbridge’s. She’s fair and square enough.”

“Oh, Lorrie’s all right; no fear of her peaching.”

“So I, after I had considered the matter over for some little time, I

just brought the mare gently round, turning her head in an opposite

direction to the one in which she had been going before, and after

going down the green lanes, the high roads and by roads, and finally

the streets of London, I found myself at Laura Stanbridge’s

establishment. So I up and told her what had happened, and she seemed

greatly concerned about you.”

“You found her alone, then?”

“No, she was not alone when I first entered.”

“Had that conceited puppy with her, ‘the dandy,’ as we call him, I

suppose?”

“Oh, no, not him. She had a tall, handsome-looking chap with her, whom

she called ‘Tom.’”

“Oh, I know, Tom Gatliffe. He has taken up with her. Well, go on――fire

away.”

“I haven’t much more to tell. Lorrie agreed to take charge of the two

hampers and so I left them with her.”

“You couldn’t have done better, so that’s all right. So far all is

well. Come, let us return home, for, to say the truth, I only came out

in the hope of meeting with you.”

The two friends returned to No. 4 in a much more happy frame of mind.

CHAPTER CXXXII.

PEACE HAS A FEW FRIENDS――A MUSICAL AND ANECDOTAL EVENING.

It was arranged between the two confederates, or companions, in crime,

that Charles Peace was not to run any further risk by endeavouring to

dispose of the property he had acquired by his various burglaries.

There was nothing he dreaded, at this time, so much as falling in with

a Sheffield or Manchester policeman or detective.

To the members of the London constabulary force he was not known, and

certainly not one of them had at this time the faintest notion that he

was Peace. Had this not been the case he never could have escaped

detection for so long a period.

So Bill Rawton, who appeared to be a handy man to many, agreed to

undertake the disposal of the goods, which he carried out after his

own fashion.

Some of the articles Miss Stanbridge agreed to take at a given price,

which was perhaps a trifle more than the Whitechapel or Petticoat-lane

receivers were likely to offer.

Bill struck a bargain with Laura, who selected the goods which she

said would suit her; the rest of the stock she did not care about, so

these the gipsy took to Isaac, who, as usual, offered a ridiculously

low price, but Bill, like his friend Peace, was very well used to the

ways of the Israelite.

Bill haggled with him for some time, and even went so far as gathering

the things together, avowing his intention at the same time of going

to another shop. Upon this the Jew made an advance in his price, and

after a little more conversation a bargain was struck, and the goods

were purchased.

Bandy-legged Bill was perfectly well satisfied with his day’s work,

and upon returning to the Evalina-road he found Peace in close

converse with a strange gentleman whom he had never remembered to have

seen before.

He came to the conclusion that the party in question was on friendly

terms with our hero, for there was a degree of cordiality between the

two which caused him to be assured of this.

Peace withdrew to an adjoining room, where the gipsy handed him over

the proceeds.

“You have done well, Bill. Indeed, I don’t know what I should do

without you,” cried Peace. “Nothing could be better. We’ve made a

regular clearance, and I am greatly relieved.”

“Who is your friend?” said the gipsy, nodding significantly towards

the door of the front parlour.

“He is in the engineering line, and has taken in hand one or two of my

inventions. Oh, he is a clever fellow――a most genial, agreeable

companion, who thoroughly believes in me. He is coming to-morrow

evening to spend a few hours with me, and I shall, therefore, be glad

of your company, you old sinner; but don’t you launch out or say any

more than may be needful; let my guests do the talking. Do you

understand?”

“I won’t say more than is necessary――trust me for that.”

Bill and Peace returned to the front parlour. The gentleman who was

its only occupant was introduced by our hero to the gipsy as a Mr.

Whittock.

He bowed courteously to Rawton, and then resumed his conversation with

Peace.

The conversation was confined chiefly to engineering matters, and a

long discussion took place upon Peace’s various inventions.

It was evident that Mr. Whittock had a great opinion of Mr. Thompson,

whom he frequently complimented. Bill listened, but said nothing.

Presently the gentleman rose to take his departure.

“I shall expect to see you to-morrow evening, Whittock,” said Peace.

We will have a little music, supper, and a friendly game.”

“I shall be most delighted, I’m sure,” returned Whittock. “I have a

friend stopping with me at present whose acquaintance I am sure you

will be pleased to make. He has a son who is a beautiful singer. May I

bring them with me?”

“Certainly; nothing would please me better. What is your friend’s

name?”

“Mr. Harker. He is a capital fellow――knows almost everything, has been

in all parts of the world, and is excellent company.”

“Bring him, by all means, then,” said Peace.

On the following day preparations were made at No. 4 for the reception

of guests.

The owner of the establishment was overjoyed at the sale of the

articles which he had been for a long time most anxious to get rid of,

that he was disposed to make merry over the bargain.

He had ample funds at his disposal, and his friend Whittock was a

special favourite with him, albeit the friendship between the two was

not of very long standing.

It was arranged that Mrs. Thompson should be the hostess on this

occasion――the elder female was to attend to the culinary department,

and prepare the supper for the guests.

Peace arrayed himself in his best attire; William Ward was got up in a

perfectly satisfactory manner, and Mrs. Thompson was carefully

watched, so that she might be in a fit state to receive the company.

Some of Peace’s immediate neighbours had been invited; these were the

first to arrive, after which Mr. Whittock presented himself. He

brought with him Mr. and Master Harker, who were introduced in due

form.

“I am greatly pleased to see you, and am glad to have an opportunity

of making your acquaintance, sir,” said Peace, addressing himself to

Mr. Harker. “As a friend of Mr. Whittock, you are specially welcome.

Mr. Whittock and I understand each other.”

“You will shortly astonish the world with some excellent inventions, I

expect,” returned Harker. “Well, this is not altogether a country for

the inventor; America is the place.”

[Sidenote: No. 70.]

[Illustration: AN EVENING PARTY AT EVALINA-ROAD.]

“The people are not so prejudiced in America,” continued Harker, “and

a man has greater chances. The English, as a rule, are slow to

perceive the value of any new power of machinery.”

“That is true enough,” remarked Peace. “They are rather dense, it must

be admitted, and are, as you observe, prejudiced. All we can do is to

persevere and hope for the best.”

Here he called the attention of his guests to several drafts of

machinery he proposed to patent.

Those present were duly impressed with the ability of their host――none

of them at this time being at all aware of the character of the man

who was so modest, so urbane, and so hospitable.

“I look upon my friend, Thompson, as a remarkably ingenious and clever

man,” remarked Whittock; “and the more you know of him the more

impressed you will be with this fact.”

“Ah, no doubt; we all agree upon that,” exclaimed several.

The social glass was filled, and the company began to settle

themselves down for a pleasant evening, which, to say the truth, was

an agreeable one to all.

Peace was in the best of spirits.

He had shaken off the dismal forebodings he had felt some three or

four days before, and at the request of a neighbour played a duet with

Willie Ward.

This was the commencement of the musical portion of the entertainment.

A violin solo followed, after which Mr. Harker said his son gave

promise of musical ability, since he had been complimented by the

master of the choir to which he belonged. The lad was asked to give a

specimen of his vocal powers, when after a little hesitation he sang

the following:――

HOPE’S LIFE IS SHINING YET.

’Tis true that time may swiftly pass

And years as quickly fly,

And every hope that springs to birth

May wither, fade, and die.

And oh! ’tis true that all our dreams

May in life’s darkness set,

But in the chambers of my soul,

Hope’s life is shining yet.

Thine was not love that could be cooled

By words or looks of scorn,

Ah, no, it was as pure and deep

As if of angels born.

Thine was that love which sorrows, storms,

Nor cruel fate could sever;

It burns on brightly――and it will

Keep burning on for ever.

To think thee faithless would, indeed,

Be casting doubts on high――

Would throw a dark suspicious shade

O’er angels in the sky.

But, oh, within my trusting heart,

No doubts there are as yet――

The lights of faith and hope are still

Within its portals set.

The music to which these words were set was simple and plaintive, and

well adapted for the voice of a young female or a boy.

The singer had evidently been well trained, for he sang in good time

and tune, Peace playing the accompaniment.

Mr. Harker, the lad’s father, was greatly pleased at the performance,

and passed flattering encomiums on Peace’s skill as an accompanist:

indeed, it was in every way creditable, and there was a general murmur

of applause as the song was brought to a conclusion.

“Your son has got a beautiful voice,” said our hero, addressing

himself to Mr. Harker. “If he perseveres he’ll be a very accomplished

vocalist.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, Thompson,” observed Whittock, “for I

know you are a competent judge of these matters.”

The conversation was carried on in an animated manner for some little

time, after which Peace and Willie Ward played another piece together.

Several of the company expressed a wish to hear Mr. Thompson sing. He

was in no very good voice, but chanted the following quaint ditty:――

I’ve been thinking――I’ve been thinking

What a world we might possess

Did folks mind their business more,

And mind their neighbours’ less.

For instance, you and I, my friend.

Are sadly prone to talk

Of matters that concern us not

And others’ follies mock.

I’ve been thinking if we were

To mind our own affairs,

That possibly our neighbours might

Contrive to manage theirs.

We’ve faults enough at home to mend――

It may be so of others;

It would seem strange if it were not

Since all mankind are brothers.

Oh, would that we had charity

For every man and woman:

Forgiveness is the mark of those――

We know “to err is human.”

Then let us banish jealousy,

Let’s lift our fallen brother,

And as we journey down life’s road

Do good to one another.

“Excellent――admirable!” cried several voices.

“I call that a fine sentiment,” said Mr. Whittock. “I wish men and

women would act up to it. There’s a great deal too much meddling in

this world.”

“Yes,” said a Mr. Newnham, who was one of Peace’s neighbours. “We’ve

quite enough of that sort of thing here in our locality. It’s a

capital song. I never remember to have heard it before, but I admire

it immensely.”

Peace glanced at Mrs. Thompson, and made a wry face, at which the

company laughed.

Soon after this supper was served, after which a game of whist was

proposed, and two sets of partners sat down to cards.

Mr. Harker, who was not included in either of the parties of players,

sat down by the chimney-corner, and entered into a lively discourse

with some of those who were disengaged.

He was a man who had at his disposal a whole fund of anecdote, and was

therefore a great acquisition to the visitors.

He gave a running commentary on the great detective case, which was

the general topic of conversation at this time, and cited instances of

the mistakes made by the Scotland yard officials.

“As far as mistakes are concerned,” said Harker, “their name is

legion, and I, for one, should be very careful in delivering a verdict

without the clearest and most unmistakable evidence, for, from my own

personal experience, I am able to testify as to the unreliability of

suspicious circumstances, which may, by the merest accident, be

brought to bear upon a man.”

“There is no doubt about that, sir,” said Peace; “mistakes are

frequent enough.”

“Well,” observed Harker, “as I am only a looker-on now, and am not

engaged to play, I’ll, with your permission, first narrate to you what

I may term a ‘Romance of a Counting-house.’ The whole of the incidents

came under my immediate knowledge. In short, I was the leading actor

in as pretty a little drama as ever man had the misfortune to play

in.”

“I shall be most delighted to hear it,” said Peace, “and so will our

friends, I’m sure.”

“It came about in this way. I had married and was going to make my

fortune, and therefore (having that laudable end in view) left a good

situation in Yorkshire to settle down in Liverpool as a merchant ‘on

my own account,’ and commence to make it without delay. I had not much

capital, and so I resolved to economise at first.

“In course of time I imagined the tidy brougham and the country house

across the Mersey would certainly come; and one serene September

evening, many years ago, I was walking up and down St. George’s

landing-stage, building castles in the air, wondering whether rents

were high at New Brighton, and whether Kate would prefer a pony

phaeton to a brougham.

“I am not sorry to add that I still reside in a modest house up

Edge-hill way, and that I come to business as Cæsar went to Rome,

according to Joe Miller, _summa diligentia_, on the top of an omnibus.

“I was waiting for Mr. Moses Moss to return at eight p.m. to his

office in a street hard by――call it Mersey-street――and for the reason

that Moses Moss had a furnished place to let which his advertisement

called ‘two spacious counting-rooms’――goodness knows, I never counted

much in the shape of coin; and I did not like the situation; nor the

narrow, dark staircase; nor the look of the boy of Hebrew extraction

who howled ‘Cub id,’ when I knocked, and told me ‘Mr. Boses would be

in at eight o’clock;’ but twenty pounds a year was very cheap, so I

told my young friend I would call at that time, and look at the

‘counting-room.’

“How well I remember that night! The ferry-boats from the Cheshire

shore gliding along with their lights twinkling like glow-worms, the

vast hull of the ‘Great Eastern’ just visible in the Sloyne, the

squared yards and all-a-taut look of a seventy-four of the old school,

showing black and distinct against the daffodil sky, and the lap of

the swell against the under timber of the stage――I was inclined to be

sentimental; but Mr. Moses Moss claimed my attention, and once more I

entered his office and found him awaiting me. He was a little, fat,

good-tempered Jew, who spoke decent English, and who, I afterwards

found out, was constantly affirming, in season and out of season, that

he was no descendant of Abraham.

“‘Hillo, Brunton!’ he cried, jumping from the chair. ‘My lad told me

you’d been here. Where have you been these two months and more? Look

here, old fellow, I’ve advertised your place; but you can have it on

the old terms.’

“‘Some mistake, sir, I believe,’ and I handed him a card bearing the

inscription, ‘Charles Harker.’

“He took it and held it to the gaslight, looked at the back,

considered it endways, and pondered over it upside down. Then taking

the candle his clerk had brought, he held it close to my face.

“‘If you are not disposed to proceed to business, I will bid you

good-night,’ said I, greatly annoyed at his manner.’

“‘It’s him, and it ain’t him,” he said aloud. ‘Carl could never look a

man in the face as this one does. And yet I don’t see my way through

the features.’

“‘There’s no necessity for you to trouble yourself about my features!’

I exclaimed, opening the door――‘good night.’

“‘Stop, stop, my dear sir! and don’t be offended. It was all a

mistake. All Isaac’s mistake, upon my honour.’

“‘All a mistake,’ echoed young Isaac.

“My curiosity was excited, and, besides, I really wanted the offices;

and I therefore allowed myself to be persuaded into mounting the

narrow staircase, until we faced a door bearing the name of Brunton on

it in white letters, and having the two upper panels glazed, more, I

should imagine, to supply light to the staircase than for admission of

light to the office.

“Mr. Moss produced a key, and turning to me with a good-natured smile,

said: ‘I’d have sworn you were Brunton five minutes ago, but I’m sure

now that I was wrong. Carl always swore when he came upstairs, and you

haven’t. It’s Brunton’s face all but the eyes, and I’d swear to the

eyes anywhere. That is, to the twinkle of ’em, you know.’

“And he unlocked the door and invited me within.

“Walking to the table on which he had placed the light, I took a chair

and produced my pocket-book.

“‘Before we go further, Mr. Moss, let us quite understand each other,

I have no wish to derive any benefits from any virtues Mr. Brunton may

possess; and I am going to convince you that I am what I represent

myself to be. Be good enough to read that letter.’

“It was from a merchant in the North, only received that morning, and

mentioned circumstances which were sufficient to settle any doubts as

to my identity.

“Mr. Moss read it, folded it up briskly, and presented it to me with a

bow.

“‘Sir, I apologise. I confess that up to this moment I fancied it was

Carl; but what puzzled me was, that such a surly fellow should take to

larking and playing the fool. You are very much like my last tenant,

sir, that is all.’

“‘Very well; now that matter is settled, let us look at the rooms.’

“The lighted gas showed me a large one, and very barely furnished.

There was a large leather-covered table with a desk on it, four

chairs, an inkstand, and a partially filled waste-paper basket, and

that was all.

“‘Rather meagre, Mr. Moss.’

“‘Now, my dear sir, what more could you want? Would you like a safe?

I’ve got one to spare downstairs, and you shall have it, and a new mat

for your feet――I hate haggling.’

“‘Let me see the other room, please.’

“It was one which a person sitting at the table would have right

opposite to him, and it had no door.

“‘It was a clerk’s office,’ Mr. Moss said, ‘and you wanted your eye on

such chaps.’ I suggested that the principal might sometimes want

privacy, whereupon he said ‘he had the door downstairs, and it should

be hung at once if I wished it.’ But having no intention of engaging a

clerk at present, I told him it was of no consequence.

“The room was about half the size of the outer one, and contained a

desk and stool. There was a large closet for coals and such like

matters, and a good allowance of dust and cobwebs all over.

“‘I’ll have it cleaned up to-morrow,’ said Mr. Moss. ‘It looks

beautiful when clean, and you will find the desk to be real Spanish

mahogany.’

“They would suit me well enough, and I told Mr. Moss so; paid him a

quarter’s rent in advance, and rose to depart.

“‘Oh, by the way, Mr. Moss,’ I exclaimed, a sudden thought striking

me; ‘I will send a man to paint my name on the wall downstairs.’

“‘Very good, sir. I would do it at once if I were you. Carl was a

loose fish, and if you delayed it until you got here, you might be

annoyed.’

“‘How so? What was he?’

“‘Take a cigar first, Mr. Harker, you’ll find no better in Liverpool.

Lord! how like him you do look when I don’t see your eyes!’

“‘And yet I have not been thought to resemble a loose fish before, Mr.

Moss.’

“‘I didn’t mean that. Have you never seen an ugly person resemble a

very handsome one? I have many a time. Well, about Carl. He was here

about two years, and call me a Jew if I could reckon him up. He used

to come here about noon and work up to eight or nine o’clock at night;

but what business he worked at I could never find out. I know he had a

big ledger, and two or three such books; but a big ledger won’t make a

business any more than a big carpet bag will, and he always carried

one. He would come and smoke a cigar with me now and then; but I never

came up here all that time, and he kept his door locked. He always

seemed to be expecting a blow, did poor Carl; more like a rat in a

corner than anything else, poor beggar. Well, sir, one morning I found

the key on my mat, and found the place just as you see it, and have

never seen Carl since. One or two queer-looking men have inquired for

him, and asked if he was coming back, and I said most likely he would,

and likely enough he will.’”

“‘Not at all an interesting story,’ I thought, and felt inclined to

yawn in Mr. Moss’s face; but I thanked him for his information, and

promised to take possession in three days, which I spent in presenting

my letters of introduction, and making other arrangements for the

prosecution of my plans.

“At length the eventful day arrived, and I stood in my own office,

with my name emblazoned on the door and passage wall. I was waiting

for a friend to call on me (who, by the way, had promised to put me in

the way of doing some business that very day), and felt impatient for

his arrival in consequence.

“The office was clean and tidy, and the floors had been well scrubbed.

“Why hadn’t they emptied the waste-paper basket of all that lumber?

“The office-keeper had lighted a fire, and I took up the basket to

perform the operation myself; but from some cause or other I placed it

on the table and began idly to burn the scraps one by one.

“I had nearly disposed of them all when a scrap attracted my

attention, and I read it; It was torn so as to leave a few words

intact, and it ran thus――

“‘Louise has given your description, and you may rely on our finding

you. Forward the plates at once, or――――’

“Then another piece was mysterious, apparently a plan of some place or

other.

“What did this mean?

“But I had no time to consider, for my friend entered, and, putting

the two pieces of paper in my drawer, I emptied the basket in the

fire, and went out with him to do a good day’s work.

“Returning late in the evening, I relit the fire, and addressed myself

to the writing of two important letters to be posted by half-past

eleven that night, in order to be in time for the Cunard steamer,

which sailed early in the morning; and then it was that the black

darkness of the doorless room opposite me began to trouble me most.

“It had troubled me before, but on this night it troubled me tenfold.

From childhood I have been imaginative, and knowing this, I stirred

the fire, called myself a fool, and went on with my letter; but not

for long. My eyes wandered to the black darkness of the doorway, and I

began to ransack my memory for statistics of men who could tell by

some occult power if any one were hidden in the room they entered; and

I laughed aloud when I remembered that I had read of one sensitive

gentleman who by this same occult power had found that a surgeon’s

skeleton was in the closet behind him.

“I own I dislike being in the dark, but I will do myself the justice

to say that I have resolution enough to overcome the dislike.

“Therefore I proposed to myself to very quietly walk into the dark

room which troubled me, and (without a light) look out of the windows,

and slowly return.”

“I shouldn’t have liked the office myself,” ejaculated Peace. “You may

well call it a romance.”

“As for the matter of that, I confess it sounds like one,” returned

Mr. Harker, “and I assure you every word I am saying is strictly

correct. Romance and reality are much more intimately interwoven

together than people generally suppose.”

“You are quite right there, sir,” cried one of the cardplayers, who

had been listening so attentively to the narrative that he revoked.

Mr. Harker continued――

“I went. The very first step beyond the threshold dispelled my fears.

I could see the glimmer of the stars through the glass, hear the

rattle of the cabs outside. Why, it was quite a cheerful place, after

all.

“Ha! there was a shuffling noise there by the closet! and then my

fears returned and overpowered me. I strove to walk out like a tragedy

hero; but my pace quickened as I neared the door and heard the

shuffling noise close to me. The next moment a powerful hand was at my

throat, and I lay helpless on the floor with the cold muzzle of a

pistol to my head.

“I was bound, and dragged into the outer office, thrust into my chair,

and confronted by two quiet-looking men, one of whom laid his revolver

on the table, saying at the same time, with an ugly sneer――

“‘So, Brunton, we have caught you at last.’

“The speaker was a mild, intelligent looking man of about thirty-five.

In a proper dress he would have looked like a High Church clergyman.

“His companion was evidently a foreigner, and I imagine a German.

“He was about fifty years of age, and wore spectacles, and a profusion

of beard and whiskers covered more than half his face; but he had a

winning smile and good teeth, which he often took an opportunity to

show.

“‘We have found you at last.’

“I am thankful to say that I am not nervous when I see danger, and I

boldly replied――

“‘My name is Harker, and not Brunton; Mr. Moss, the landlord of these

premises, has noticed my resemblance to his late tenant, and is

satisfied that I am not the same. Depend upon it that I shall make you

repent this outrage.’

“I tried to rise to call for help from the street, but the pistol was

cocked and pointed at me, and there was that in the man’s face which

cautioned me against rashness in my helpless position.

“‘Well, I never,’ cried Whittock. ‘That was a nice pickle to be in.’

“‘It was,’ observed Harker.

“‘I will sit down,’ I replied, ‘and hear what you have to say; but if

I choose to do it, I shall do my best to raise an alarm in spite of

your revolver.’

“‘Vel spoke, Carl,’ said the foreigner; ‘Louise always says he’s a

plucky one.’

“‘Now then, Brunton,’ whispered the other, ‘let us have no nonsense.

We have not met before, it is true, but Louie has so well described

you, that putting another name on your door was simply idiotic.

Besides, one of our friends has watched for your return, and we

communicated with him as soon as we landed. Go free if you like, but

we will have the plates.’

“‘Dat’s de matter vid us,’ echoed the German; ‘ve vill have de

plates.’

“‘I know nothing of any plates,’ I cried, ‘nor of Louise, nor of you.

All I know is that you will see the inside of a prison very shortly.’

“‘And you think you can throw us, throw me over in this way? Dou you

think you deal with children?’

“‘I think I deal with a burglar. Most certainly with a rascal of some

sort or other.’

“Here my two friends held a whispered conference. Then he of the

revolver turned sharply towards me.

“‘Will you marry Louise? Will you give up the plates and marry my

sister?’

“‘She lofe you like old boots,’ added the German; and from which I

opine that he prided himself on a knowledge of English idiom.

“In spite of my serious position I was getting thoroughly amused.

“The dark doorway held unknown terrors to my excited imagination; but

two commonplace fellows who had made a mistake caused a feeling of

merriment, even in spite of the revolver.

“‘I am sorry I cannot oblige you,’ I replied. ‘I am flattered by the

lady’s preference, but having one wife already, I fear I must decline

taking a second; and as for the plates, please explain what you mean.’

“The answer to this flippant speech was a blow on the face, which

immediately sent the blood streaming on the floor.

“‘You’ll remember insulting the sister of Louis Orloff! Here, baron,

let us gag him, and search; he will be raising an alarm presently.’

“They thrust a piece of rope between my teeth, compressing my windpipe

to make me open my mouth; and there I sat helpless, whilst they turned

out the contents of my desk and drawers, not forgetting my cash box,

which was opened by a key taken from my vest pocket, and the contents

appropriated.

“Knowing that the two scraps of paper I had found in the waste-paper

basket and placed in my drawer must have reference to their visit, I

watched very anxiously when they opened it.

“But they escaped notice, and I felt that I had got some clue to the

mystery, even if these men escaped; and I had quite determined that

they should not escape, for I was insecurely bound, and had been

working hard to get my right hand free, and, thanks to having a very

narrow one, I now found myself able to slip it through the loop which

encircled the wrist; but I ‘bided my time,’ for I saw that a false

move might bring a bullet through my head.

“‘De plates is in ze oder room, Carl Brunton, mon ami,’ said the

baron, smiling, and patting my shoulder. ‘Vy not say? Vy shoot we you?

You do dem so well, ve no get any like dem. And you use dem yourself,

and den, Ach Gott, you upset de cart of de apple.’

“‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘and it’s odd to me if I don’t upset your cart of

de apple before long.’

“‘In dere; in back room?’ asked the Baron, with another amiable smile.

“I said ‘yes,’ with my eyes.

“‘See now, my Louis, you were too rough. You into him pitch like dam.

So see him amiable.’ Then to me:――

“‘And you will marry Louise, who lofe you like old boots?”

“My other hand was free now. I tried to speak, and implored with my

eyes for the gag to be removed.

“The baron removed it, and while doing so I resolved on a plan of

operation.

“‘You will marry Louise, and give us the plates?’

“‘I will give you every satisfaction.’

“‘That is business,’ said Louis Orloff, coming forward. ‘First the

plates; then you return with us to New York, and keep your promise to

Louise. Why give us the trouble? I tell you frankly that the expense

will be deducted from your share, and that you will be strictly

watched in future. I should have cut your throat but for my promise to

Louise. Now, where are the plates?’

“‘Look in the closet in the next room, rake out the coals and take

what you find.’

“‘Good! Come, baron.’

“And they left me to operate on the coals. Springing up, I seized the

revolver, darted to the door, and in a moment had locked them in.

“But my triumph was of short duration, for Orloff was on the other

side like lightning, the rotten woodwork torn out under his vigorous

wrench, and his hand was on my throat before I could grope my way to

the stairs.

“Then I knew that life depended on the struggle, and I fought like one

possessed, for the revolver. The baron came to his friend’s help; but

I found time and opportunity to send him reeling to the ground.

“Orloff was the weaker man, but he outdid me in skill, and a dextrous

feint threw me off my guard, leaving the revolver in his hand.

“Purple with passion, he fired instantly, and I felt a sharp sting in

the left shoulder; and then all earthly things seemed to be fading

away, and a world beyond opening to view.

“When I recovered I found myself laid on a mattress on the office

table, and my wife tearfully bending over me. There was a calm-faced

surgeon too, who showed me the ball he had extracted, and told me to

cheer up, for I should be better in a few days, for no harm was done.

“Mr. Moss was there too, and came to my bedside――I mean my

table-side――and whispered how he had been called up by the police,

who, hearing a pistol-shot, had come upstairs and arrested Orloff and

the baron, and finding me on the ground bleeding, had sent for a

surgeon and my wife, having found my private address from a letter in

my pocket.

“I was only faint from loss of blood; the bullet did little damage,

and I preferred getting up, and then gave an account of the evening’s

adventure, not noticing at the time that a tall inspector of police

was in the room.

“‘Will you kindly show me those pieces of paper?’ he said, advancing.

“I have the men in Mr. Moss’s office; but beyond the assault on you, I

have no evidence against them; but I know them well.’

“I produced them, and the inspector fastened on the one which seemed

to be a plan; then looking around, he said:

“‘This is a plan of your office.’

“‘Call me a Jew if it aint!’ exclaimed Mr. Moss, taking it.

“‘Yes, it is certainly a plan of your office. See, here is the

doorway, and there comes the other room. Then there is a cross against

the fireplace in this room, on what I judge from the lines to mean the

fourth board from the hearthstone, and another cross against the sixth

from the hearthstone in the other room. Get a crowbar, Mr. Moss.’

“‘There’s one downstairs.’

“I do believe that if you’d asked for a crocodile, he’d have got one

‘downstairs.’

“Crowbar and a policeman to wield it were soon procured, and then the

mystery was unravelled.

“Close to where I sat, were unearthed several copper-plates for the

forging of Russian rouble notes of various amounts; and in the back

room, under the flooring, were found several hundreds of well-executed

forgeries carefully soldered up in a tin case, together with

correspondence implicating Orloff and the baron.

“It appeared that Brunton was engaged by a New York gang to engrave

the plates, and that he had never seen his employers, the agent

between them being the Louise before mentioned, whose fair hand I had

been compelled to decline.

“Brunton had evidently become frightened, and had fled.

“He was no traitor, or he would have decamped with the plates.

“Perhaps the dread of having to espouse Louise may have had something

to do with his flight.

“She was a very handsome woman, if I may judge from a photograph of

her found in the tin case, but looked like one accustomed to rule, and

who would not hesitate to administer wholesome correction to her

spouse.

“Assisted into a carriage which was waiting, I had the satisfaction of

seeing the baron and Orloff brought down in handcuffs, the baron

regarding me with a sweet smile, and Orloff scowling on me like a

fiend. I did not prosecute, for they were so well known to the police

as forgers that there was evidence enough for the Russian Embassy to

procure a conviction and a sentence of ten years’ penal servitude; and

in due time I recovered, and dismissed the matter from my mind.

“But I had not heard the last of it. About twelve months after the

trial and condemnation of the baron and his friend, there came one

night a timid knock at my office door, and my clerk (for I had such a

luxury then) ushered in what, at first sight, seemed to be a moving

bundle of rags.

“Strictly speaking, the bundle of rags insisted on seeing me, and

ushered itself in, in spite of all remonstrances.

“It came and stood before me, and resolved itself into the semblance

of a man――a man lean, haggard, sunken-eyed, ragged, and dirty, but

with a face something like my own; and without putting a question I

knew that I stood face to face with Carl Brunton, and I addressed the

rags by that name.

“‘I took that name,’ the poor shivering thing replied, ‘but my name

is――but no matter. May I speak to you?”

“‘Yes, go on.’

“‘Will you give me some drink first? I have had none to-day, and feel

delirium tremens coming on. Oh, how cold it is, and how I shiver!’

“I sent the clerk for some brandy, which he took raw, and with shaking

hand held out the glass for more.

“I imagine it is Mr. Moss you want to see, is it not? If so, you will

find him to-morrow, at ten o’clock.’

“‘No, no, you, I want――I――I am very poor, very poor. Will you give me

sixpence?’

“I gave him half a crown.

“‘Now, what can I do for you?’

“‘I――left some property here when I went away. You won’t refuse to

give it up? I seem poor, but am rich――ah! so rich!――and I will pay you

well.’

“‘You mean the forged rouble notes and the plate you engraved them

from?’

“‘Ah! Who told you that? Then you have found them and used them? I ran

away from them, and wished to lead a better life, but they drew me

back; and now you have robbed me, and I shall starve.’

“I explained to the poor wretch what had become of his possessions,

and how they were found, and inquired if he had not heard of the fate

of his accomplices.

“‘No; I have been wandering about the country, living in hospitals,

because they hunt me down from place to place. They will kill me as

they did the Posen Jew and the engraver at Stockholm, all because they

demanded a fair share. They are dogging me to-night; one of them is

outside now. Let me see, what did I come here for? Oh, sixpence. Lend

me sixpence; I’ll give you a hundred pounds for it to-morrow.’

“I made a further donation, and, as the man was evidently in a state

of delirium, I told my clerk to fetch a medical man. But before he

could execute the order the bundle of rags crept down the narrow

stairs, sitting on each step, and wriggling by aid of his hands to the

next below, whilst we, unable to pass him, looked on, wondering how it

would all end.

“The street gained, he stood upright, and, casting a terrified glance

around, fled away into the darkness, and we, following the direction

he had taken, learned shortly afterwards that a beggar had thrown

himself into the Mersey from St. George’s landing-stage, and had sunk

to rise no more.

“His body was never found, and I, having had enough of Mersey-street,

moved my quarters, much to the regret of Mr. Moss, for, quoth he, ‘Two

of ’em are at Portland, and another at the bottom of the river――so you

may call me a Jew if any one troubles you again.’

“But I went; and the office is still without a tenant, and I shudder

when I pass through the street at night, and, looking up, see the two

black shining windows, like two great eyes watching me, and fancy I

can see a shadowy form in rags pressing his face to the glass, and

gibbering and bowing at the busy stream of human life which surges to

and fro for ever.”

When the narrator had brought his story to a conclusion, there was a

dead silence for a brief period. The cardplayers had been so

interested that their game had been carried on in a loose, desultory

manner, and the whole of Peace’s guests were more or less

wonder-struck.

“You know how to enchain your hearers’ attention, sir,” observed our

hero.

“What I have been telling you is simply a narrative of facts, and, as

I before observed, it proves the truth of the old adage that ‘truth is

strange――stranger than fiction;’ but I have to apologise for so rudely

interrupting the game.”

“There is no occasion for apologies, sir,” said a Peckham tradesman,

who formed one of the party, “for the account you have given is one

which, I think, all of us would have been sorry to have missed.”

“I think we shall all of us agree in that,” observed Peace.

“But this is a social evening, and all I desire is to see everyone

enjoy themselves.”

“You might vary the entertainment with a little music, Mr. Thompson,”

said Bandy-legged Bill. “After this perhaps some other gentleman will

tell us another story.”

“I am at your disposal, gentlemen,” returned our hero. “If you desire

to hear a little music, so be it; but with your permission I will just

put some of my pets through their paces.”

Having made this observation, he opened the door of the room, and

whistled to his dogs.

Two docile animals came bounding into the apartment; they skipped

about, wagged their tails, and demonstrated the greatest possible

affection for their master.

Peace played a tune on his violin, and made them dance on their hind

legs, and go through a variety of difficult and diverting feats, to

the infinite delight of the assembly.

“You have a wonderful power over the brute creation,” said Mr.

Whittock. “Why, you might pull in a lot of money as a public

entertainer.”

“It has always been a hobby of mine, sir. I take great delight in

teaching those faithful creatures――I say faithful advisedly, for the

most fortunate of us will acknowledge that they are more faithful, and

I may add less selfish than man.”

It is not very complimentary of you to say so,” observed Mrs.

Thompson, who was at this time on her best behaviour.

“You are right, my dear,” returned Peace. “It is not complimentary,

but our friends will excuse it. Present company is, of course,

excepted.”

At this there was a roar of laughter, after which Peace and Willie

Ward played another duet.

To see our hero at this time it would have been impossible for any one

to guess that he was anything else than a genial, good-natured,

kind-hearted, old gentleman, who took a delight in making everybody

happy and comfortable around him.

The old adage, “that appearances are oftentimes deceptive,” was

specially applicable in his case, for he would have deceived the

Prince of Darkness himself, his power of dissimulation being perfectly

marvellous. In the course of conversation he expressed himself in such

a gentle unobtrusive way――assumed for the nonce such a moral tone, and

reprobated wrong doing so earnestly, and at the same time so

naturally, that it would have been impossible for any one who did not

know his manner and mode of life, to imagine him to be the hardened,

callous, unscrupulous criminal whose nefarious career we have

endeavoured to shadow forth.

“Now, gentlemen,” cried Peace, after a pause, “make yourselves at

home――do just as you like. Whittock, see to your friends, and help

them to all they require. Possibly you know more of their habits than

I do.”

“They are very well able to take care of themselves,” said Mr.

Whittock. “If they don’t have all they want it’s their own fault.”

One of the personages introduced by Whittock has been already

introduced to the reader; the other was a Mr. Corbet, who had been a

captain to one of the American steamers.

He was a weather-beaten, self-reliant man, who, albeit mixing with the

company, had not as yet spoken a great deal.

His friend, Whittock, however, was anxious to draw him out, for when

once Mr. Corbet did let loose the jawing tackle, he went in for a

“pelter.”

“This old pirate could spin a few yarns if he chose,” said Whittock,

nodding towards the party to whom he was alluding.

“Anyone can see that,” observed one of the company. “Hang it, Jenkins,

you’ve trumped my trick,” he added, in a petulant tone, addressing

himself to his partner.

“I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” returned Jenkins, apologetically. “How

very foolish of me to be sure, I don’t know what I could have been

thinking about.”

“Spin us a yarn, Corbet, and stop this wrangling,” cried Whittock.

“I aint up to it,” said the captain. “Besides, my experience is

chiefly confined to foreign parts, as people are apt to observe.”

“All the better, sir,” said Peace, “all the more interesting. We lead

in this country such a monotonous, hum-drum sort of life that there

are positively no incidents worth recording.”

“I don’t know that,” observed Corbet. “None of us can pass through

life, I expect, without meeting with some strange adventure, without

gaining some experience.”

“Oh, we gain experience without doubt, Corbet,” said Whittock. “It is

hardly possible for it to be otherwise.”

“Well,” said Corbet, “as our friend has given you a little of his own

experience, I don’t mind following suit. I don’t mean with cards, for

that’s not much in my line, but I’ll just give you another narrative

of facts.”

“Hear, hear. Fire away, cap’en,” cried Whittock and one or two others.

“Anything to keep the game alive.”

“During the milder months of the twelve constituting a year I occupied

myself in running a small steamer from Puntsville to B――――, carrying

the mails, such as they were, freight, and any chance passengers,

which, I assure you, were exceedingly scarce.

“These trips were generally of a monotonous character to the crew of

the ‘Silver Arrow,’ consisting of the engineer, myself, and an

Ethiopian deck-hand.

“Once, however, something extraordinary out of the general routine of

rounding points, making fast to the long, straggling, desolate wooden

piers of the intermediate landings, or the thousand and one little

nothings, peculiar to the voyage, occurred, which came near resulting

in my death, besides putting me to serious inconvenience, and in a not

very reputable predicament.

“One bright June afternoon the ‘Silver Arrow’ backed from her wharfage

at B――――, sped gallantly down the sunny channel, lined on either side

by rows of carved, lettered, gilt dingy sterns of all nations, and

soon, with her bright new paint reflecting in her wake, and her

streamers flying, was going down the wide river.

“In high good humour was I, for besides an unusual quantity of

freight, three passengers had booked themselves for Puntsville, full

fare paid, intending, as they remarked, to participate in a hunting

expedition in the game-abounding district of the lower river.

“We had proceeded some twenty miles, darkness was beginning to succeed

twilight, when giving the wheel in charge of Dick, the deck-hand, I

descended to ascertain if all was in readiness for the passengers in

their allotted cabins.

“The ‘Silver Arrow’ was run on stringent bachelor principles, and no

charming _femme de chambre_ enlivened us by her silvery vocalisation,

or by her clever manipulation administered to our comfort.

“After seeing all correct, I went into my own little cabin, and

perceiving the mail-bags in the centre of the floor, where I had

carelessly thrown them when the post-office messenger had brought them

down, I proceeded to place them in a more secure location, when, as I

raised the leathern sacks up, the bottom of one gave away, and out in

a thick-spreading torrent rolled a mass of letters and packages.

“Dropping on my knees I raked them in, and then examining the bag

found that the mischief was occasioned by the receptacle being charged

beyond its capacity, the bottom bursting out from the severe pressure

of more letters and packages than to my knowledge had ever at any one

previous time constituted the Puntsville mail.

“There I was on my knees with an immense pile of mail matters heaped

before me; and I was mentally deliberating what to do with the matter,

when softly behind me creaked the door, and in a second a strong set

of fingers grasped my throat, bending me back to the floor, and the

cold, icy muzzle of a pistol pressed fearfully against my temple.

“He who held me thus I recognised as one of the three passengers――a

slightly built, extremely muscular, quick-eyed sort of a man.

Physically he was a far better man than I, and the position in which

he seized me, rendered me perfectly helpless.

“‘Ho, ho! my old bird; robbing the mail, eh? Twenty years in the

penitentiary!’ said he, in a low, clear whisper, with a peculiarly

triumphant sparkle in his sharp eyes.

“I tried to speak, but his grasp on my throat prevented me; he pressed

harder, and continued in the same cautious undertone:

“‘Lie still, my beauty, or out go your thievish cerebrals; however,

I’ll let go your throat; but if for a fraction of a second you open

your lips, I’ll let daylight into your aged anatomy, my venerable, but

ungodly purloiner,’ and he indulged in a moderate laugh at his own

quaint style of expression, as keeping his weapon in a straight line

with my forehead, he crept toward the door and gently closed it;

coming quickly back, he placed the muzzle against my forehead, saying,

mockingly――

“‘You are a pretty one to be robbing the President’s mail at your time

of life, you virtuous old sinner!’

“‘You infernal villain,’ I broke out, however, not very loudly,

because at the first movement of my lips he clapped his hand on my

throat, and the revolver pressed harder, and now at half cock, a hair

breadth’s space between me and eternity.

“By some great effort, however, I managed to blurt out in spasmodic

whispers, that the mail had burst; had not been robbed, as could be

proved by inspection, and that I wanted to ascertain by what authority

he came the detective over me in so forcible a manner.

“Laughingly he took from his pocket a scrap of written paper, held it

out of reach, but near enough to be legible, whereon was stated that

so-and-so was commissioned by so-and-so to investigate the cause of

the numerous losses that had recently occurred on the Puntsville mail

route, &c.

“‘No use palaverin’, my renowned skinflint; you’ve been caught

squarely and fairly in the deed, and you’re booked certain for Sing

Sing, or some other institution conducted on the same charitable

system, and you won’t get out for a period――no, not at least till you

get the Presidential pardon.’

“The affair was growing more strangely serious than I had anticipated,

and still I lay on the cabin floor with the contents of the mail-bag

strewn over and around me, the detective keeping rigid surveillance

over my every movement, however slight.

“Leaning forward, with his foot he pushed the door partially ajar,

pursed up his moustached lips, whistled a bar of some current popular

music, and directly footsteps sounded without, and soon another one of

the passengers entered the cabin.

“Exchanging a significant look with my captor, he looked around the

room with a quick glance, and coming close to my head, dropped down

suddenly on his knees, and almost before I was aware of it, had

inserted a gag in my mouth, and there I lay, speechless.

“Without losing any time, they seized me by neck and heels and plunged

me, without the least effort, into the bunk. Then a heavy cloth,

deeply saturated with chloroform, was thrown over my face, and after

that, if you except for an instant a confused sound of rumbling

machinery and a rushing of waters, I remember nothing.

“When I regained my senses all the cabin was dark, my brain was

confused and obfusticated. I managed to get out of the bunk, looked

out the narrow window, and saw that surging black water and heavy,

threatening, driving thunder-clouds were the only things visible.

“The waves were rising fearfully, the huge white-capped, black-bodied

monsters rushed against the boat’s side with thuds that made every

timber rattle; the paddle wheels were idly beating to and fro; the

wind shrieked through the chains that held the smokeless stack, and

the ‘Silver Arrow’ rocked enough to throw nine out of ten fresh-water

sailors off their feet. A hundred thoughts sprang up.

“Why had the boat stopped? Where were the passengers? Passengers! Oh,

now the whole series of events occurred to my remembrance. Perhaps the

engineer and the negro had suspected foul play and resisted the

rascals, and had been disabled if not murdered.

“With fearful misgivings I groped along the passage, reached the

engine-room, and, stepping across the sill, fell over a human body. I

knew where the lamps usually were kept, and after great difficulty

succeeded in getting one alight.

“On the floor, lying on his face, was the engineer, but on examination

I could discover no traces of violent treatment. However, the odour of

chloroform pervaded the room, and I was persuaded that that forcible

agent had been brought to operate upon other systems besides my own.

“The engineer was stupefied by the combined influences of chloroform

and whiskey, for the odour of the latter was nauseously prevalent; but

whether the liquor had been imbibed from voluntary self-indulgence, or

from forcible application, the individual upon whom the potent

influence was now in operation was in no condition to inform me, and I

had no means of ascertaining the fact.

“Then I went upon deck, examining every nook for signs of my quondam

passengers.

“I entered the pilot-house, and there on the bench, with his huge

hands on the spokes of the wheel, sat the negro deck-hand, and a cloth

swathed about his head of a faint chloroformic odour told how he had

been rendered non-combatant.

“The storm was fearfully violent now; the boat seemed to be drifting

rapidly, and rocked so that I experienced great difficulty in going

below.

“The engineer seemed to be reviving, and a bucket of cold water dashed

over him brought him quickly to his senses.

“With his assistance I pumped the boiler full, and started the fire,

while he told me how one of the three passengers came in the engine

room and threw a cloth over his face, and he remembered no more.

[Sidenote: No. 71.]

[Illustration: LORD ETHALWOOD CONDUCTS CHEVALIER MONPRES THROUGH THE

PICTURE GALLERY OF BROXBRIDGE HALL.]

“These facts were somewhat mysterious, but danger was all around us,

and no time could be spared for discussion, and necessarily we were

compelled to direct all our energies towards saving the boat from

wreck and ourselves from destruction.

“Despite our danger, however, I could not help thinking of what had

occurred, and suddenly it struck me――the mails.

“Leaving the engineer in charge, I rushed with my lamp to the cabin,

and there, strewn about, as before, lay the postal contents.

“I examined them eagerly, and in the heap saw a thick packet directed

to the officer of the Puntsville and Rocktown R. R. Co., marked on the

outside ‘No. 5,’ and in small caligraphy in the left-hand corner,

‘6000 dollars.’

“‘No. 5!’ And where were the remaining four? I now remembered I had

heard that 25,000 dollars worth of endorsed and signed railroad bonds

were to be put up for sale in Puntsville.

“There was one package――one-fifth of the total amount――and the other

four were stolen! This was what had brought my three gentlemen

passengers on a hunting expedition. Yes, for game worth 20,000

dollars, and never a shot fired.

“As I stood in amazement at the daring and cleverness exhibited, and

in alarm from the reflection of the responsibility I might incur from

the robbery, a huge wave struck the boat, and she almost capsized.

“Hastily collecting the mail contents in the old bag, I shouted to the

engineer to turn on all steam, while I ran to the pilot-house and

grasped the wheel.

“Slowly the paddles went round, then faster, then the ‘Silver Arrow’

tore through the black waves under a dangerous pressure of steam.

“Hardly had we attained speed ere a great mountain wave struck her

amidships, carrying away the larboard paddle-box and the greater

portion of the aft bulwarks.

“The boat rocked and plunged, almost stopped, then the wheels crashed

through the splintered timbers that had become inserted in the

paddles, and again we bore on, until a loud snap echoed through the

boat, the wheels stopped, the ‘Silver Arrow,’ caught up by the rushing

waters, drifted helplessly.

“The engineer, breathless, came up and said the piston-lever had

broken, and still we drifted on――to death.

“Another giant wave struck――three feet of water below, and fast

filling――still raged the storm and warred the water.

“Two miles from shore, and the black, ghastly, whitened waves roared

over the rocky bar, two hundred yards distant.

“In an instant we were close on it.

“I rushed below, seized the mail bags, and unscrewing the

cylinder-head, thrust them in, and closed it up. Then they were in a

water-tight compartment, safe and recoverable, even if the luckless

‘Silver Arrow’ went to the bottom.

“As I secured the mails the water was waist high. When I reached deck

the waves were beginning to roll over it, and the engineer and negro,

whom, it seemed, the terror of the situation had suddenly roused, were

launching the remaining boat.

“The starboard boat, I forgot to mention, had been discovered gone

when I examined the deck, on recovering from the chloroform’s

somnolent effects.

“I shouted to them to save themselves by some other means, as no boat

could live in such a storm; and then, grasping the chain stays, hauled

myself, hand over hand, to the top of the stack, which had not yet

cooled, though the fires had been extinguished twenty minutes, and the

spray was continually dashing over and around, causing jets of steam

to emanate from every spot it touched on the black cylinder.

“I hung there for life, though it scorched my hands dreadfully; and at

last I managed to lash myself fast by a bit of rope, which,

providentially, I had found in my pocket. The boat sank no deeper. It

had grounded on the bar, and I was temporarily safe.

“Then I looked amid the turmoil of waters for the engineer and his

companion. Of them I could see nothing. Half a furlong to leeward

tossed the boat, bottom upward. The unfortunate men had gone to the

bottom.

“The ‘Silver Arrow’ rocked fearfully, and jarred and shocked me

through every limb, as I hung lashed to the smoke-stack.

“I was fast being spent, when, the storm abating, a boat put out from

shore, and without detailing the difficulty of getting aboard, suffice

it to say that, half dead, I was rescued, and after a couple of day’s

recuperation on shore, I got aboard a schooner bound up, and arriving

at Puntsville, related what had happened.

“In a few days calm weather returned, the ‘Silver Arrow’ was raised,

the mails were secured, intact, and I mentally resolved to give up

steam-boating for a lengthy interval, at least, and measures were

taken to recover the stolen railroad bonds through the city

detectives.

“Finally it was rumoured that the bonds had been recovered from a city

firm, who had purchased them two days after they were stolen; that the

party who had sold them could not be found, but his arrest was very

probable from the descriptive clues which the authorities had received

from a member of the victimised firm.

“And now I became involved in a predicament equalling in

unpleasantness that of the clinging to the smoke-stack of the sinking

‘Silver Arrow.’

“One day, about a week after the robbery, a gentleman called at the

Puntsville Hotel and expressed a wish for a private interview, and

when we were alone, produced a warrant for my arrest for mail robbery.

Remonstrance was useless.

“He said it was a very unpleasant duty, but the law must be enforced,

&c., and as the document was in proper form and legally made out, I

could do nothing but accompany him.

“To be brief, I was tried and convicted on the sworn and positive

evidence of the senior partner of the firm who had purchased the

stolen bonds. He identified me as the man who brought the stolen paper

into their office, and to whom he had paid the money for the same.

“In detail his evidence went to the effect that the man had grey

mutton-chop whiskers and moustache, brown eyes, red face, and a mole

on the left cheek, all of which answered my description exactly.

“In vain my lawyer argued and argued――the evidence was point blank

against me, and an alibi could not be proved; for unfortunately the

very day on which the bonds had been offered for sale I had gone,

starting at sunrise, on a solitary fishing excursion to a little

frequented part of the river, and had not met a single person until I

came home late at night.

“The trial lasted but one day, and the next I was on my way to the

Albany Penitentiary for a term of three years.

“The prison became unusually crowded, and I was compelled to occupy a

cell in companionship of another convict.

“We lived together very pleasantly for some weeks, became as intimate

as our diverse social station would permit, and in a communicative

mood one night my companion related how once on a steamboat he with

two other companions had robbed the mail, and after drugging the crew

had escaped in a small boat, and he wondered if the old captain was

drowned, as he had heard afterwards that the boat had sunk.

“You may know what were my reflections when I heard this, and, to be

sure of a witness, I informed the turnkey, and next night he stationed

himself immediately outside the door, and in the course of our nightly

conversation my fellow-convict repeated his confession, with an

addition that he and his two pals had heard that the bonds were to be

sent to Puntsville, and had laid their plans as they carried them out;

and what was of more immediate consequence to me, how one of them had

imitated my appearance, even to the mole upon my cheek, and thus

turned the attention of the authorities towards me, and gave them time

to get out of the country; and, moreover, that when he succeeded in

selling the purloined bonds he had decamped with the proceeds, and had

never been heard from.

“He (the prisoner) was incarcerated at the present time for another

offence entirely different.

“With the turnkey as my witness I speedily obtained a hearing, and

after a series of legal formalities was released from durance vile;

and, of course, if I had not then been in comfortable circumstances,

very likely I would have instituted an action for false imprisonment,

and thereby put sums of money in the pockets of the lawyers and a

pittance into my own.

“However, I waived all right to compensation for my injured liberty,

having had quite enough of legal experience, and this is what happened

to me thirty years ago, when I was a young man.”

“I said Corbet could tell you a tough yarn or two,” remarked Whittock.

“Why, Lord bless you, he’d keep you amused the whole evening. He has

tales about all sorts of things, and, what is better, they are every

one of them true.”

“This one is, that I’ll vow for,” returned the captain, “but I don’t

say all I tell are.”

“We don’t ask whether they are true or not,” observed Peace, with a

smile. “It is enough for us to know that we are entertained. So long

as the hours pass pleasantly away, and we all enjoy ourselves, what

more is needed?”

Everybody appeared to coincide in this opinion, and so, after some

more music, both vocal and instrumental, one of the guests, who it

appeared, had been at one time a station-master in the United States,

told the following tale, which we reserve for another chapter.

CHAPTER CXXXIII.

TIED TO THE TRACK――A STATION MASTER’S STORY.

“Our friend here,” said the station-master, “has given you a notion of

what a life on the ocean wave is, now I’m just going on a different

track altogether. Perhaps the most monotonous unromantic life it is

possible to conceive is that of a railway servant, whether guard,

engine-driver, porter, or station-master, and I dare say you are all

astonished at my volunteering a tale about railway life.”

“Not at all! No such thing! Go on,” cried several.

“Well then, here goes,” cried the narrator.