Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar - Anonymous - Страница 32

Mrs. Bristow had screwed her courage up as best she could, but now that the time had arrived for her to leave her home she felt a pang shoot through her heart.

She pictured to herself her husband’s return home after his debauch, his awakening in the morning, and his bitter remorse. Dissolute, debased, and worthless fellow as he was, his ill-used and miserable wife had some compassion left for him, some latent love of which she found it difficult to dispossess herself.

This is almost invariably the case with ruffians of this class. We are furnished with numberless instances of this in the reports of assaults upon women heard in our public police-courts.

The injured woman almost always finds some excuse for her brutal husband, and it is likely enough that Mrs. Bristow would never have left her home, however badly she had been treated, had it not been through the instigation and by the advice of her friend Bessie Dalton.

Mrs. Bristow had seated herself in front of a little table—​pens, ink and paper were before her, the last-named being already blotted by her tears.

“What shall I say to him, Bessie?” enquired the wife of her friend.

“How should I know? If it were my case I would not trouble myself to write. Wish him good-bye and say you are going abroad, that’s the best thing to do.”

“Abroad?”

“Certainly. Don’t let him imagine you are going to remain in this country; say you are going abroad to seek your fortune in a strange land, that’s the way to put it.”

“He wont believe it.”

“It doesn’t matter what he believes—​only don’t give him an idea that it is any use his endeavouring to find you out.”

“I wish you would dictate the letter.”

“Very well. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then go on.”

“Dear John,—​I write these few lines to tell you that I find it impossible to remain under the same roof with one who has treated me with such unkindness and cruelty. My cup of sorrow is full to the brim. If I remain here I feel convinced that I shall meet with my death at your hands. For both our sakes it is therefore better that we should part. Never expect to see me again in this world. I leave England to-morrow; you will do much better without me. I do hope and trust that you will see the error of your ways and lead a better life.—​Your miserable wife,

“Maria Bristow.”

“That will do; won’t it?” said the girl.

“Oh, dear, yes. My head is in such a whirl that I find it impossible to collect my thoughts. That will do very well, I think,” returned Mrs. Bristow.

She folded up the letter, put it in an envelope, addressed it, and placed it on the shelf where her husband could not fail to see it.

This done she felt greatly relieved.

“Now let us away at once,” cried the girl. “Give me the bag.”

“But where are we going to?”

“To Stanningley. An aunt of mine lives there, a dear old soul. We can remain with her as long as we like, but there’s no occasion for us to stop unless we choose.”

“How far is it?”

“Oh, it must be over five miles, but we must have a fly.”

“And the money?”

“I’ve got enough for our immediate wants.”

The girl had not spent the last sum Peace had sent her, in addition to which she had some of her own little savings.

A fly was procured. As they were about to step into this, the gentleman they had met at the concert, at which Charles Peace appeared, now accosted them.

“Well, ladies, whither away in this hurry?” said he, in a tone of surprise.

Bessie put her companion into the fly, then she hurried towards her male friend.

“Ah! Mr. Chipp,” she ejaculated, “how glad I am we have met with you! Something has occurred—​something terrible,” as she nodded towards the passenger in the vehicle.

She proceeded to give a rapid account of the assault upon Mrs. Bristow, and wound up by informing her friend that his wife had left him for good and for all.

“It’s not to be wondered at,” said Mr. Chipp. “The only surprise to me is, and has always been, that she consented to live with the brute for so long a time.”

“I want to see you, sir, about a little matter of business. Want your advice, but have not time to explain matters now.”

“Very well, I shall be much pleased to see you to-morrow, if that will suit you; if not, on the following day. You know the hotel I’m stopping at?”

“Yes. If I can manage to see you to-morrow, I will most certainly do so, or the day after.”

“Very good—​I am at your service.”

He now drew close to the vehicle, and shook its inmate warmly by the hand.

Mrs. Bristow had taken the precaution to wear a thick veil, which she wore down, so that the injuries done to her face were not discernible.

“I am pleased to have met you,” observed Mr. Chipp; “and, believe me, I hope and trust a more happy future is in store for you.”

He raised his hat to both females, and went on his course.

Bessie Dalton jumped into the fly, and the driver pushed forward in the direction of Stanningley.

Bessie chatted merrily during the greater part of the journey, but her companion remained sad and thoughtful.

Upon the travellers arriving at their destination, Bessie conducted her companion to a small, mean-looking cottage, in the rear of which was a large and well-cultivated garden.

The place was primitive enough in appearance.

Bessie Dalton unfastened the front door, which was opened with a small latch, and entered the parlour.

An exclamation of surprise, which was not unmixed with pleasure, proceeded from its solitary occupant.

“Why, Bessie, lass, who ever thought of seeing you?” cried a well-known voice.

“My dear aunt,” said Bessie in reply. “I have brought with me a very near and dear friend of mine, Mrs. Bristow, of whom you have often heard me speak.”

“You are welcome,” observed the old lady, addressing herself to her visitor. “I am much pleased to make your acquaintance. My niece has made me familiar with your name. Sit down.” The speaker handed a chair as she made this last observation.

The three women were very soon on the best of terms, and an animated conversation was kept up for the best part of the evening. A frugal supper was served by the hostess, and Bessie Dalton and Mrs. Bristow shared the only spare bed in the establishment.

They had, however, but a short period of rest that night, both being in too great a state of excitement to make sure of unbroken slumber.

They rose early, and having dressed, bethought them of what to do.

“I’ve thought over and over again the best course for you to adopt,” said Bessie, who had already been tacitly acknowledged to be commander-in-chief; “and the more I consider, the more I feel convinced that my first idea is the best.”

“And what might that be?” inquired her companion.

“You will become a fine lady—​that’s what you are destined to be.”

Mrs. Bristow laughed at the naive manner of the speaker.

“Ah, you may laugh; but I tell you that’s what will happen. I’ve laid it all down as nicely as possible. Listen. There is no place in England, so I’ve been told, equal to London for concealment. You must take up your abode there, change your name, and no one will suspect that you are the wife of a poor mechanic.”

“Change my name!”

“Most certainly you must do that. Pass yourself off as a widow.”

“I should never have the courage to do that.”

“You must; don’t tell me you haven’t courage. What matters—​who’s to know? You have money, and to the possessor of money everybody pays homage. We all know that.”

“You certainly are a most extraordinary girl,” observed Mrs. Bristow, in a reflective manner. “What in the name of goodness could have put such thoughts into your head?”

“Common sense; that’s all, my dear. I am only using common sense in a matter which, to say the truth, requires a considerable amount of that useful commodity. To remain here, or anywhere else in this county, would be the worst of folly. Change your name, take quiet, respectable apartments at the west end of London, and make your life as happy as possible. You have suffered enough, and deserve to taste a little of the sweets of life. Do you see that?”

“Ah, I acknowledge the truth of your observations.”

“Very good. And now, first of all, let us make an examination of the little store. Lock the door, dear. We don’t want anybody prying into our secret—​not even my aunt. In a case like this, it’s best to keep one’s own counsel.”

Mrs. Bristow rose suddenly from her seat, and crept softly towards the door, which she locked.

“Now for it,” said Bessie. “Now for the notes.”

She drew them forth, and placed them on the dressing-table.

The first upon which her eye lighted was a note for the sum of one thousand pounds. This was followed by many more for a like sum. In addition to these there were many for one hundred, two hundred, as also others for smaller and larger sums.

Reckoning the whole of them up they represented an amount exceeding fourteen thousand pounds.

No. 8.

THE YOUNGER SERVANT STRUCK PEACE WITH THE MOP, AND LAID HIM SENSELESS.

The two women were astounded at the prodigious sum.

“What say you to that?” inquired Bessie.

“I feel like one who is walking on a precipice, and expects every minute to topple over. That’s how I feel.”

“You’ll get used to it in time. Oh, you’ll get used to it, believe me.”

“But are the notes genuine?”

“I do not doubt it for a moment. You had now better take charge of your own property; sew them up in your stays. That will be the best plan till we see what can be done with them.”

“But where can we get notes for so large an amount changed without exciting suspicion?”

“That will require a little thought. It won’t do to be too hasty in a matter of this sort. If one note is good they are all right, depend upon that. I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve got one for fifty pounds?”

“Yes.”

“I will ask Mr. Chipps to change it. He’ll have no objection to oblige either of us.”

“But he’ll want to know where we got it from.”

“I will tell him, my dear—​a legacy, a legacy. Don’t you see it was bequeathed to you by a relative? I have promised to see him either to-day or to-morrow. I will take this note with me.”

“As you please. I leave it to you. Indeed, without you I know not how I should get on at all.”

Having agreed upon this course of action Bessie Dalton in the earlier portion of the day started off for the town of Bradford, leaving her friend in charge of her aunt.

The looking-glass in which the notes were found was originally in the possession of an old miser, named Nathan Schreiber.

He was a refiner, and dealt in metals of every description. In addition to this he was a usurer.

Living in an old dilapidated house in one of the back streets of his native town he contrived to drive a prosperous trade; but throughout his whole life declared he was miserably poor.

He was plagued by a number of poor relations, some of whom, it is believed, robbed him.

Anyway, in the last closing years of his life, he was under the impression that his rapacious relatives would send him out of the world before his time.

This thought haunted him by day and by night.

He was eccentric to the last degree. He grew old and feeble, and prior to his last illness he unfastened the back of his looking glass and laid the notes carefully on the silvering at the back of the plate.

This done, he replaced the backboard in its original position, and felt a grim satisfaction at glancing at the glass on the table by the side of his bed, upon which he shortly breathed his last.

As a matter of course after his decease the house was pretty well filled with his relatives.

A search was made for a will; none could be found. The effects he left behind, however, realised a considerable sum.

The distribution of this was the occasion of a wrangle, and the acrimonious feeling evinced by some of his heirs was in no way creditable to them. The property left by old Schreiber was sold by public auction.

A tradesman in the town bought several articles of household furniture. Among them was the looking-glass containing the notes. The tradesman afterwards became bankrupt, his furniture was sold off, and a broker bought two lots, in one of which the glass was included.

Mrs. Bristow afterwards purchased it of the broker for the sum of fifteen shillings. The end of this we have already seen.[2]

When Bessie Dalton reached the hotel at Bradford she inquired for Mr. Chipp, and was at once shown into a room where she found her friend seated.

She entered into a full description of the assault on Mrs. Bristow, and wound up by informing him that the latter had left him for good, but did not as yet know where she was to take up her quarters.

It would appear that Mr. Chipp had, for some reason which was best known to himself, been desirous of continuing the acquaintance of the two females he had met for the first time at the concert given for the benefit of the weaver’s widow and children.

He had paid frequent visits to the house in which Bessie and her friend resided, and had at all times taken great interest in them; and therefore, Bessie, who was the most self-possessed of the two, had no compunction in seeking his advice on the present occasion.

“She’s had a legacy—​a little money left her,” said Bessie, “and my advice is that she sees no more of that wretch of a husband of hers, but go up to London at once, and see if she can get something to do.”

“The best advice you can give her.”

“And I’ve brought with me a fifty pound note, which we don’t know where to get changed. Perhaps you can oblige us?”

She handed him the note—​not, however, without some misgivings.

He looked carefully at it, and appeared perfectly satisfied.

“I have not so much money about me, but I can give you a cheque if that will do. You can get it changed before you return.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir! That would be indeed a favour.”

“Not at all,” said her companion, carelessly. “Happy to have it in my power to oblige you.”

He drew the cheque for the required sum, and handed it to the girl.

Then, with a smile, he said—

“Then, I suppose I am going to lose sight of you ladies.”

“Oh dear, I hope not, Sir!”

“Umph! Do you go with your friend?”

“I have not decided as yet. Poor thing! She is sadly borne down just now, and needs some one to be with her. I suppose I had better see her on her journey.”

Mr. Chipp nodded assent to this proposition, and murmured—

“Yes, it would be better for you to do so.”

“You see, we are not at all busy at the factory,” said Bessie; “and I can be well spared, for a short time at all events.”

“It does not appear to me that they are busy anywhere,” observed her companion. “I shall not remain much longer in this town, but return to London before next week is over. Have you heard or seen anything of the fiddler?”

He alluded to Peace, whom he had, since the night of the concert, invariably designated as the fiddler.

“I have not heard from him lately,” answered Bessie, carelessly.

The gentleman smiled, but made no further inquiries.

Bessie now took her departure, and bent her steps in the direction of the bank. Upon presenting the cheque, she elected to take the amount in gold.

She then returned to her aunt’s residence, and made Mrs. Bristow acquainted with the successful nature of her expedition.

In a few days after this the two women started off for the metropolis.

[2] The concealment of notes to a large amount betweeen the plate and back board of a looking-glass is true in substance and in fact. A case similar to the one described came under the writer’s own knowledge. Many years ago, in Cheshire, a woman in a humble position of life accidentally broke a looking-glass which she had had in her possession for very many years. To her infinite surprise she discovered a number of bank-notes, concealed at its back. The case attracted considerable attention at the time, and she handed the property so found over to the stipendiary magistrates, who ultimately decided that the property so found was hers, and the notes were consequently returned to her. There are many persons now living who can attest to the truth of this statement, which proves the oft-repeated adage that “truth is strange—​stranger than fiction.”