Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar - Anonymous - Страница 21

For some considerable time after the death of the Badger, Peace worked regularly at his trade. Orders came in pretty freely, and as Bessie Dalton had prognosticated several gentlemen associated with him at the concert given for the benefit of the weaver’s widow took great pleasure in recommending him to their friends as a skilful and reasonable carver and gilder.

Had he chosen to do so he might have established a very good business in the town of Bradford, but the greed of gain and the spirit of adventure, as he termed it, was for ever urging him on to commit lawless acts. Hence it was that steady industry became after a while distasteful to him.

His course of life presents us with a melancholy picture—​cunning, roguery, wholesale plunder, and reckless bravado. The old adage of “once a thief always a thief” was exemplified in him.

His thin, firmly compressed lips gave one an impression of a man who, if put to it, would stick at nothing to gain his ends. There was a wolfish look about his face, his eyes appeared more like the eyes of a wild beast than of a human being; he had a good square head and altogether looked like one who had both the head to plan and the hand to carry out any villainy on which he had set his heart.

As we have before noted Mrs. Bristow and her husband occupied the parlours of the house in which Peace lodged. Bristow was a smith by trade; in addition to this he was a wretch, who drank horribly, treated his wife—​who was a pretty little woman of decent parentage and belongings—​with the greatest brutality.

Drink, it has been observed, is the curse of the British workman; the fatal propensity has led to the commission of numberless crimes.

Our courts of justice furnish us with a black catalogue of atrocities, assaults, and murders, committed by habitual and confirmed drunkards.

If the veil could be lifted, and the desolate and miserable home of the drunkard shown in all their hideous deformity, a picture would be presented which the most phlegmatic and unimpressionable would shudder to look upon.

It is a sad reflection that nothing can be done to purge the land of this terrible scourge.

Bristow had an amiable, forgiving, and patient wife. Her life, since she had been united to her drunken husband was one of sorrow and suffering.

She had for her companion, and to a certain extent this was a solace to her, Bessie Dalton, who on many occasions had sheltered her from the domestic storm which burst over her defenceless head.

The gentleman who had been the companion of these two women on the evening of the concert saw them to the door of their residence after the performance was over.

He took the liberty of calling the next day. He was introduced to Bristow, who, for a wonder, was perfectly sober, and when in this state he was a decent, well-behaved man enough.

He was very respectful in his manner, and thanked his visitor for the kindness and consideration he had displayed in protecting his wife from the rougher portion of the crowd gathered in the entrance hall.

The interview was but of brief duration; after an exchange of civilities the stranger took his departure.

And he called several times after this, and saw both Bessie Dalton and Mr. Bristow.

Ultimately, however, these visits culminated in a scene which we shall have to describe in a future chapter.

Our more immediate business now is to put the reader in possession of all the incidents connected with the escapade of our hero.

Peace, as we have already noted, could not comport himself in a becoming meaner for any great length of time.

He had been looking about for a convenient “crib to crack.” He had, to use a cant or sporting phrase, “spotted” a large warehouse which stood at the east end of the town, and had come to the conclusion that there would be but little difficulty in his effecting an entrance.

The place was left in charge of a night watchman, whose vigilant eye Peace felt assured he could easily avoid.

It was his custom at this time to wear women’s boots. He had on the same pair which he made use of when he entered the millowner’s house at Dudley Hill.

Once in the premises, there would not be much difficulty in abstracting all valuables which were in any way portable.

He was over-confident on this occasion. He, however, took the precaution to disguise himself by wearing his false arm and colouring his face, which presented the appearance of a mulatto.

He was under the full impression, to use another sporting phrase, “that he would be able to walk over the course.”

The town of Bradford was enveloped in a mist when Peace sallied forth upon his marauding expedition.

He did not start from his lodgings, but had been for an hour or two at a quiet respectable coffee-shop. From this place he started upon his expedition.

There were but a few stragglers in the streets at this time, for the hour was late, and most of the operatives were fast asleep in their beds, save a few of the most irreclaimable, who were in the parlours or skittle-grounds of the public-houses.

In the course of about twenty minutes, or from that time to half an hour, Peace arrived at the warehouse which he had chosen as the scene of his operations.

He glanced furtively around.

Not a solitary passenger was in sight.

The warehouse stood in a part of the town where few chance pedestrians were to be seen even in the busiest part of the day. Now there were none, and the burglar therefore had it all to himself.

He tried the lock of one of the side doors with more than one of his skeleton keys, but was not at first successful in shooting back the bolt.

He was, however, not a man to be easily baffled. On many occasions he has boastfully displayed to his companions his ability in tampering with locks of every description.

After some further efforts he managed to turn back the lock. This done, he gently pushed against the door, which he found was fastened by a top bolt—​the bottom one had evidently not been driven home into its socket.

He had now but one thing to contend with, this being the top bolt. He had provided himself with a small piece of flexible steel with a sort of claw at its end, wherewith to operate on this.

A considerable space of time elapsed before he was enabled to successfully surmount this difficulty.

At length, however, by patience and perseverance, combined with skill, he contrived to send back the bolt from the socket by slow degrees.

This done he opened the door, entered, and closed it after him, so that it might not attract the notice of any of the police.

He found himself in an enormously large apartment, which was more than a third filled with goods of various descriptions.

The windows of the warehouse were covered with dust and dirt, and the place was in comparative darkness.

Peace carried no dark lantern with him on this expedition; but he had provided himself with a box of silent lucifers, which were warranted to “ignite only on the box.”

He struck one of these, and was about to take his way up the stairs to make an inspection of the upper portions of the building when, much to his surprise and chagrin, he was confronted by the night watchman, who emerged from a wooden hutch in one of the corners of the warehouse.

“You audacious scoundrel!” exclaimed the watchman, springing like a panther upon Peace, in so sudden a manner that he had no time to elude the man’s grasp.

“Leave go,” cried Peace, in a voice of concentrated passion; “unhand me, or it will be worse for you.”

“I’m not going to part with you so easily—​you’re my prisoner,” answered the porter, winding big fingers around the collar. “You’re caught, my gaol-bird, this time, and no mistake.”

The lighted lucifer had fallen from Peace’s hand upon the first assault, and the two men were struggling for the mastery in comparative darkness.

Physically speaking, the watchman was the most powerful of the two, but he had neither the skill, coolness, nor cunning of his more wary opponent. The struggle was a short but desperate one.

The burglar tried every feint and dodge to gain an advantage. By a sudden and adroit movement he tripped up the watchman, who fell on his back, his antagonist falling upon him at the same moment.

Peace lost no time in making the best use of the advantage gained: he placed his knee on the man’s chest, and removed his hands from about his throat.

In another moment the burglar was sent backwards by a well-directed blow from his antagonist’s clenched fist.

The watchman ran to the door which he opened, then in a stentorian voice he shouted out—

“Help! Murder! Police—​police!”

The cries for assistance were taken up and repeated by one or more persons in the street.

Peace made for the wide open staircase which he began to ascend rapidly.

The watchman, perceiving this, gave chase.

The burglar seeing that another struggle was imminent, and being in no way desirous of risking the chances of a second encounter, had recourse to a cunning stratagem.

He waited at the top of the first landing for his pursuer who rushed forward, never for a moment dreaming of the reception that was in store for him.

Peace waited till the man came within reasonable distance; he then kicked out with his right leg and struck his pursuer with his foot full in the face. The latter rolled from the top of the first flight of stairs to the bottom.

Peace heard strange voices below, which he concluded, naturally enough, proceeded either from the police or a chance passenger in the street.

Feeling that he was in a critical position, and that there was now no possibility of his escaping through the door, by which he had effected an entrance into the premises, he made at once for the roof.

The warehouse was a five-storied one, and he did not pause until he had reached the topmost story.

As he had anticipated, he discovered a trap-door, by means of which he could, in all probability, be able to reach the roof of the building.

He drew some bales of goods underneath the trap, and upon these he mounted.

The door was fastened on the inside by two bolts. These he endeavoured to draw back, but they were rusty, and not easily removed.

He heard footsteps ascending the stairs; heard also voices.

Every moment was now precious.

If he could not succeed in drawing back the bolts, his capture was certain.

No. 5.

THE CHASE AFTER PEACE—​MIRACULOUS ESCAPE.

He drew a jemmy from his coat-pocket, and getting a leverage from the side of the trap, he drew back one bolt; he was enabled now to raise the trap on one side.

He sprang up from the bales of goods and contrived to pass through the opening. This done he closed it.

He now found himself on the leads of a flat roof.

The building was immensely high, as most structures of this nature usually are.

As far as the eye could reach the chimneys and roofs of the houses of the city lay before him like one vast panorama.

He stood on a dizzy height, from which there did not appear to be any means of escape.

He began to despair, but a shuffling noise at the trap-door moved him to further action.

He ran to the extreme end of the roof, and found, much to his delight, the roofs of houses, some twelve or thirteen feet below.

He looked over the parapet of the warehouse at the roof beneath him.

He cast a furtive glance at the trap, which he discovered was being removed.

The police were on his track.

Urged almost to desperation, he laid hold of one of the coping stones of the parapet; he threw his legs and body over, and then for a moment or so hung in mid air.

To let go and drop on the roof of one of the houses was indeed a desperate alternative.

But, desperate as it was, he felt that the attempt must be made.

He had by this time gone too far to recede.

He let go his hold of the coping stone, and dropped upon the slanting tiles of the house beneath.

He alighted with comparative safety.

Sliding down the roof, he gained the gutter which ran round the house. Then he stooped down and hid himself behind the low wall in front of the gutter.

By this time the policemen and the night watchman were on the leads of the warehouse. He knew this, for he heard their voices distinctly in the night air.

“He’s stepped it,” said the watchman. “He’s given us the slip after all our trouble, the audacious scoundrel.”

Peace heard these observations, and remained as quiet as possible in his place of concealment.

“He’s made off over the roofs of those houses,” said one of the police officers.

“Impossible!” exclaimed the watchman. “No mortal man could reach them from where we are standing. Oh, no—​impossible!”

“You don’t know what these fellows can do,” returned the constable. “They’re like cats—​they’ve got nine lives.”

The speaker flashed his bull’s-eye in all directions, but no burglar was visible.

Peace was stretched at full length in the gutter, and the low wall in its front effectually concealed him from observation.

But the situation in which he found himself was in no way a pleasant one; but he was as cunning and stealthy in his movements as an old fox.

If he attempted to stir, he knew that discovery was certain.

He, therefore, remained speechless and motionless.

“Have you got such a thing as a ladder?” inquired one of the constables of the watchman.

“Yes, there is one in the yard. Why?”

“He’s hiding somewhere on the top of yonder houses. We shall nail him yet, if we can get a ladder.”

“Come down to the yard at once, if you think that,” said the watchman. “An excellent thought. Come this way.”

The speaker and the two policemen retraced their steps, crept through the trap-door, and hastened towards the yard in search of the ladder.

Peace heard every word they had spoken, and was thereby apprised of their movements.

He waited till he felt assured they had left the roof of the warehouse, then he peeped out from his hiding-place.

Not a soul was to be seen.

Abutting out from the roofs of the row of houses on which he had so successfully dropped were a number of dormer windows, with lozenge-shaped panes. Peace crept along the gutter upon his hands and knees, and tried the first window he came to.

It was fastened. He tried another with the same result.

Presently he discerned, at no very great distance off, the faint glimmer of a light from an adjacent window. He made for this at once.

He opened it with the greatest care, and crept softly in.

A young and pretty servant girl was partly undressed, and was about to retire to rest.

She gave utterance to a faint scream as the burglar entered her sleeping chamber, and modestly covered her neck and shoulders, which were bare, with a shawl.

“For the love of mercy, how came you here, sir?” she inquired in evident alarm.

“My dear young lady,” said Peace, in his most persuasive tones, “do not be alarmed. Take pity on a poor fellow who seeks your protection.”

“Protection, you must be some madman, or else—​a—​a burglar.”

“I am neither. At the present moment I am in the depths of trouble. You can save me—​you will, I am sure. You have a kind heart—​I can see that by your face, which wears on it a sweet expression. Oh, do take pity on me!”

He threw himself on his knees before her, and again pleaded in such an eloquent manner that the young woman was touched.

She hesitated, not very well knowing what answer to make to such an appeal.

“What trouble are you in, then?” said she.

“I’ve had a dispute, a quarrel; blows have been exchanged, and, if I cannot escape from the officer who is after me, I’m a ruined man—​ruined for life. You will have compassion on me. You cannot find it in your heart to refuse your aid to a distressed and afflicted man.”

“What do you want me to do? If you are discovered here my character will be lost. Go—​go at once, or I will call for assistance!”

“Nay, you cannot mean anything so cruel—​I’m sure you cannot!” he exclaimed, in a beseeching tone.

“Will you go, sir?”

“Yes, if you will only show me the way. This little affair will blow over in a day or two. Matters can be arranged; but if I fall into the hands of the police I’m lost. Now do you understand a miserable fugitive asking you to protest him? You cannot—​you will not refuse.”

“How can I protect you?”

“Simply by this. The police are on my track; let me out at the back door of the house; I can then make my escape. Now do you understand?”

“What have you been doing for the police to be after you?”

“I’ve told you. A quarrel—​an assault.”

“You are a very strange man. I do not understand how you came here.”

“I’ll tell you all another time. Show me the way to the back door, and I will go at once and trouble you no more. Quick, no time is to be lost. You will do this, and heaven will reward you. But stay—​here is something as a recompense for this little favour.”

He took a sovereign from his pocket, which he handed to the girl.

She drew back indignantly.

“No, sir!” she ejaculated. “I’ll have none of your money.”

“Very well,” he answered; “so be it. Trust me, I shall find the way of rewarding you some other time. Now let me out.”

“I run great risks. Suppose my master or mistress should hear us descending the stairs.”

“I will make no noise. They’ll not hear us.”

The girl took the light, and crept softly downstairs. Peace followed.

The back door was soon unfastened, and the burglar imprinted a kiss on the hand of his benefactress.

“You can jump over the wall at the end of the garden, and reach the court at the back,” she whispered. “Now go.”

She closed the door and refastened it; then she betook herself to the window of the back parlour, and saw her strange visitor jump over the wall into a neighbour’s garden. He then climbed another wall, and gained a side street beyond.

“Oh, gracious goodness! how glad I am he’s got off. What an extraordinary man!” she ejaculated.

“Poor soul, he seemed in the depths of trouble, I shall learn something more about the affair in the morning, I’ll dare be sworn.”

She crept softly up the stairs and reached her own room without disturbing any of the other inmates of the house.

Meanwhile the police officers had obtained the ladder from the adjoining yard; this they reared against the side of one of the houses which was in close proximity to the warehouse from which Peace had so successfully escaped.

The constables ascended the ladder, clambered over the roofs of the houses, but as the reader may readily imagine, they were in no may successful in obtaining sight of the fugitive, who by this time was far away from the scene of action.

The policemen were much disconcerted, but were, however, not at all disposed to give up the search without further efforts.

They observed the glimmer of the light from the window of the servant girl’s room; the latter had by this time returned to her apartment in the roof, and was preparing for bed when she was startled by a loud rap at the window.

“Who’s there, and what do you want?” said she, in breathless accents.

“Open the casement—​a burglar is in the house. Open at once!”

“Don’t be afraid, girl; we belong to the police.”

“But I am very much afraid, and that’s the truth,” returned she, unfastening the window and throwing it wide open. “Good kind gentlemen, for the love of mercy tell me what’s the matter?”

The constables made no reply, but sprang into the room. The girl drew back in undisguised alarm.

“It’s most disgraceful to force an entrance into my bedroom—​that’s what it is,” she ejaculated petulantly.

“Now, young woman,” said one of the constables. “Answer me truthfully. Have you seen a man making his way over the roof?”

“Certainly not, with the exception of you and your companion; you are the only persons I have seen.”

“No one has been here.”

“Why, goodness me, no. Haven’t I told you so already?”

“You’re quite sure of that?”

“Quite sure.”

The policemen glanced round the apartment, looked under the bed, in the cupboard, and, in short, everywhere they could think of.

“Strange!” ejaculated policeman No. 1.

“Most remarkable,” returned No. 2. “Where can he be hiding?”

“Can’t possibly tell.” Then, turning to the girl, he said, “Hark ye, young woman, a burglary has been committed in the adjoining warehouse; the robber has escaped, and we have reasons for believing that he has sought shelter in this house.”

“A burglary!” exclaimed the girl, giving utterance to a loud scream. “What have I done that I should be treated thus?” Having said this she burst into tears.

The door of the bedroom was opened, and a tall gentleman, with a thick grey moustache, appeared with a drawn sword in his hand. He had hastily huddled on his clothes, and was swathed in a long dressing-gown.

For the rest his countenance was indicative of rage and indignation. He was a retired Indian officer.

“What is this noise and altercation about?” cried the half-pay captain, regarding the constables with a malevolent look. “How is this that the sanctity of my private abode is thus violated? Speak! Dost thou hear?”

One of the policemen briefly explained the particulars of the attempted burglary, and the remarkable escape of the robber.

“You have exceeded your duty. How dare you enter the maid’s bedroom in this precipitate—​this, ahem! unseemly manner? Do you suppose for one moment that anyone belonging to my establishment would harbour burglars? I say you have gone beyond all reasonable limits; and, ahem! I tell you frankly, that the matter shall not rest here. An Englishman’s house is his castle, and it is not to be invaded by the officers of the law, without—​I say without a reasonable excuse.”

“I hope we have a reasonable excuse, sir.”

“I say you have not; don’t contradict me, man, I will not condescend to bandy words with you. This matter shall be inquired into.”

“What is your number?”

“46 T.”

“Good, and yours?” he enquired, turning to the other.

“49 T. But will you allow me to explain——”

“No, no. I will not. I don’t want any explanation now. At a proper time and in a proper place you will have to account for this scandalous behaviour—​forcibly entering a young girl’s bedroom upon such a shallow pretext. I say it does not admit of explanation. I will answer for the honesty and integrity of this girl—​let that suffice. Zounds! gunpowder and smoke, I am perfectly astounded at your audacity!”

46 T said he was exceedingly sorry that there should have been any misunderstanding, but they thought it probable the thief might have been seen passing the window.

“Ridiculous, positively absurd,” ejaculated the choleric captain. “You are a pair of blundering idiots. The thief, if there be one, which I do not for a moment admit, would not be fool enough to enter a respectable house and arouse the inmates in his endeavour to escape. The idea is perfectly preposterous.”

“It is most unfortunate that you view the matter in this light,” said 46 T, “and I deeply regret that we should have offended you, sir, but it has been done in the exercise of our duty.”

“Duty be hanged! A pretty story truly, that you are to disturb people in the dead hours of the night, wake them from their peaceful slumbers, frighten the maid almost into hysterics upon the miserable plea that you thought the robber might have sought shelter here. I tell you, sir, that the very thought of such a thing is insulting to me and to all who dwell in this house.”

While this altercation had been going on the girl had seated herself on the edge of the bed and gave utterance to a series of sobs and hysterical cries.

“Don’t you worry yourself, Mary. You’ve done nothing wrong, my poor girl,” said her master, in a kind tone of voice. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, or indeed to be alarmed at. Dry your eyes, girl, and be of good cheer.”

“I’m sure—​I—​ha—​ven’t done anyone an—​in—​jury—​and I don’t know why I should be treated like this.”

“Don’t fret yourself; nobody blames you,” returned her master. “The righteous have naught to fear.”

The captain strode towards the window, which he closed and fastened. He then threw up the shutters. This done, he turned towards the two constables, and said, as he approached the door—

“This way, if you please. It would be idle to prolong this scene. The maid wants to seek repose. She has been kept up later than usual, in consequence of a few visitors we’ve had this evening. You will, therefore, please follow me.”

The two policemen obeyed. The master of the house closed the door of the bedroom, and, with a light in one hand and a sword in the other, he led the way into a room below.

“Now, gentlemen” (he emphasised this last expression), “since you have taken upon yourselves to enter my premises as trespassers—​I cannot call you anything else—​I do not desire to part with you without first of all seeing that you search every room in the house.”

The constables felt that they had made a great mistake; this fact they were forcibly impressed with, and they were seriously concerned at the issue.

“We don’t desire to search—” stammered out one.

“I insist!” interrupted the captain. “There is now an imperative necessity for your doing so, and, further than that, I insist as a satisfaction to all parties.”

The officers bowed. They were conducted by their guide into one room after the other. It is, perhaps, needless to say that everything was in the same order as when the occupants of the habitation had retired for the night.

Nothing was disturbed. There was not the faintest indication of any stranger or robber having entered the premises.

“You will, I’m sure, pardon us,” observed one of the policemen. “We feel now that we have been too precepitate; but I hope you will consider, sir, that the reason for our being so was a desire to further the ends of justice. Mistakes will occur with the best and most cautious constable. I trust you will accept our apology, and say no more about this error—​for error it most assuredly is.”

The captain was choleric, impetuous, but he was not vindictive. His anger passed away, and he was the chivalrous, generous, high-minded officer whom his worst enemies acknowledged to be a gentleman.

“Enough!” he observed. “You have been greatly mistaken, and I confess that I was greatly incensed, but that is over now. I am not the man to do anyone an injury for being over zealous in the discharge of what they deem their duty. You are satisfied that there is no robber lurking about here—​I am satisfied that you did not mean to give offence; so let the matter be forgotten. Certainly it shall not be made public by me.”

“We thank you, sir, most sincerely for your kindness and consideration,” exclaimed both constables. “We thank you again and again.”

The gallant officer unbarred the front door of his habitation, bowed courteously to his companions, who returned the salutation, and passed into the house.

“We have made a pretty muddle of this business,” said one of the constables, to his companion; “what I call a regular muddle. It’s lucky the old gentleman cooled down. I thought he meant reporting us.”

“So he did at first, but he thought better of it.”

“Ah! he’s haughty, but he’s a gentleman. But as to that slippery customer, how he has got clear off will, I fear, remain a mystery.”

The policemen went back for the ladder, which they replaced in the yard.

The night watchman remained outside of the captain’s house, near by for the constables, who, of course, informed him of all that had passed therein.

The watchman was in no very good humour; he was suffering from the effects of the kick he had received from Peace while ascending the stairs.

Every bone in his body ached. In addition to this he found that his right ankle was sprained—​so, taken altogether, he was in no enviable plight.