Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar - Anonymous - Страница 92

We left Alf Purvis at the lodging-house in Westminster. On the following evening, at six o’clock, he presented himself with a faint single rap at the door of a house in one of the streets leading out of Regent-circus.

He was admitted by a buxom maid-servant, who ushered him into the back kitchen.

“Missis expected you would come,” said the girl, “and desired me to tell you to take a bath and wash yourself before you put on these clothes, which you are to wear.”

She pointed to a suit of second-hand garments, which were hanging on the back of a Windsor chair.

A huge tub half filled with hot water was on the floor of the kitchen.

The girl pointed to this, and said:—

“You will do as I tell you?”

“Yes,” answered Alf.

The girl left the room, and the boy had his bath and put on his new things.

Although he had been accustomed to work at Stoke Ferry Farm he did not resemble in any way the rough country lads one is accustomed to see in the agricultural districts.

He had a well-knit figure, a white glossy skin, a fine and almost feminine cast of features, and hair, after it had been cleaned and combed, which shone like virgin gold.

When his ablutions and toilette had been completed, he was called by the maid-servant, who was in the front kitchen.

He entered, and sat himself down on one of the chairs.

“Missus will see you presently,” said the girl.

Alf nodded, and quietly awaited the interview which was to follow. He felt a great deal more comfortable than he had done for a long time.

He glanced complacently at his new things, as a scholar surveys his bombazine gown, and a bishop his first pair of lawn sleeves.

In about half an hour he was shown up to the first floor, and there he found the two ladies whom he had seen on the previous night at the lodging-house in Westminster.

The young lady who the maid had told him was Miss Stanbridge appeared to be the real mistress of the house.

She professed to be very pleased to see him, and spoke in a kind manner when addressing him.

Alf was quite charmed with her. He did not remember to have seen anyone who pleased him better.

She asked him several questions about his former life, and soon extracted the history of all his offences and troubles.

At first he touched very tenderly upon the former, but Miss Stanbridge’s manner encouraged him to make a clean breast of it. She seemed to view misdemeanours in so charitable a light that he took heart of grace and told her all.

She laughed immoderately when he gave her an account of the hare being tied round his neck, and his selling it after all to the bird ensnarer.

She inveighed against the game laws as bitterly as any sworn abolitionist could have done.

Alf Purvin was duly impressed with the justness of her remarks, as her sentiments coincided with his own.

She concluded by saying that it would be just as fair and reasonable to make laws for birds’ eggs as for hares, and that so far from blaming a starving fellow-creature for taking one animal out of a wood which perhaps held hundreds of them, she could scarcely blame him for taking a sheep or a goose or a fowl from those that were over-rich to give to those who were poor.

She was anecdotal also. He was highly entertained at the story she told him of an old nobleman who was a confirmed invalid, and invariably took a constitutional early morning walk before breakfast.

One day, in going through his preserves, he met a strange, black-looking, forbidding-featured man, coming in the opposite direction.

The nobleman knew perfectly well that he had no business there, and so walking up to him he said, in an angry tone,

“Now, fellow, what are you doing here? Eh?”

“I’m taking a walk,” answered the man sulkily; “And pray, if I may make so bold, what are you doing here?”

“I’m talking a walk, also,” returned the nobleman, “to get an appetite for my breakfast.”

“Ah,” muttered the man, “I’m taking a walk to get a breakfast for my appetite.”

The nobleman did not ask any more questions, but walked on without more ado.

This story pleased Alf immensely.

The speaker now paused as if waiting for him to answer her. He observed that her eyes were searching him through and through, while the elder woman was gazing at him with a peculiar expression of tenderness mingled with pity.

“I think I shall be able to find employment for you,” said the younger of the two—​“that is if you don’t mind work. I will supply you with much better articles to sell in the streets or anywhere else, and if you are a good boy you can make this your home for the present.”

“Oh, thank you, marm,” cried Alf. “I’m sure I’ll do all I can to serve you.” He said, in continuation, that it was very hard to have no bread to eat, and no means of getting any, but still he thought that honest people were the happiest, and they were often the richest too, for he’d heard a thief say only a few nights before that an honest shilling went farther than a stolen crown, and certainly the thieves he had seen were very poorly clothed, and dirty, and hungry; it did not seem as if they thrived on their trade.

At this the old lady smiled, and Miss Stanbridge did not vouchsafe a reply.

There was a pause, after which the elder of the two females asked him if he had any father or mother.

And when he said he could not remember either, and that when he asked about them he was told to hold his tongue, since he was an orphan, she started and asked him quickly what part of England he came from.

He said Broxbridge, at which his questioner started, repeating the word after him in a slow, thoughtful manner.

Her emotion did not escape the observation of Alf Purvis.

“You won’t find yourself badly treated here,” said Miss Stanbridge. “If you do, it will be your own fault. I intend to send you out to sell different articles for me, and I shall give you a commission on all you sell.”

“Thank you, marm.”

“Then, as you will get your bed, board, and clothes for nothing, you will be able to put by what money you earn, which, in the course of time, let us hope, will amount to a good round sum. That will be an encouragement for you to persevere.”

“Certainly, marm. I will try my hardest.”

“Good lad. I think we understand one another.”

The boy saluted her with his head and hand.

He was delighted with the prospect which opened before him.

That night he enjoyed the luxury of a clean, comfortable bed, such as he had not known for a long time—​certainly not since he had left Stoke Ferry Farm.

The next morning he had a good breakfast in the kitchen in company with Susan, the housemaid.

When he had partaken of his morning’s meal he was told that his mistress wanted him.

She was at breakfast. On the sideboard was a glass vase with a dozen gold and silver fish in it.

“Now, Alf,” said the lady, “look at these. Do you know anything about them?”

“Oh, dear, yes! I know a good deal about them.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I know everything about the street trade in live-stock, and about almost every other kind of street trade, for when I could afford it I used to go to a sixpenny lodging-house, or else had fourpennyworth at the Drury Chambers.”

“What has that to do with it?”

“Well, you see, marm, there’s a good many people, who are in all the street trades, goes to both places, and by asking questions and listening to their patter, I got put up to a pinch of snuff or two. That’s how I came to know about these things, for you see I was always looking out for a better trade than birds’ nests, which is but a poor one, make the best on it.”

“Oh, I see, you’ve had more experience in those matters than I had at first imagined. Can you tell me what that is worth?”

“A thing is worth what it’ll fetch.”

“Yes, I know; but that is no answer to my question. What do you suppose is the value of that?”

Alf. Purvis went up to the sideboard and examined them with the eye of a connoisseur or practical dealer.

“They were brought here this morning,” added Miss Stanbridge, glancing at her elderly companion, who had just entered the room, and with whom she spoke in a low voice, pointing at the fish.

“They ought to fetch eighteen pence a pair, but it all depends upon the customers you meet with. Here’s one pair of large silvers that are honestly worth four or five shillings of anybody’s money. Large silvers are scarcer than large golds.”

“Are they?”

“Yes, marm, they are, indeed.”

“Well, now you must see if you can sell some of them. You’ve no objection?”

“None in the world.”

“Where will you go? How will you set about it?”

“What I should do with these would be to walk Kensington way. On the outskirts of London they say is the best line for these. I should walk along the street crying them, and when I saw any children at the window I would knock at the door, for children crave rarely after gold fish. If I am asked where they come from I shall say some on ’em were brought from China and some from Portugal, and some from the Injies; then they’ll be sure to buy ’em. People are so fond of anything that comes a long way off.”

Miss Stanbridge laughed.

“You’re a strange lad,” she ejaculated—​“an old head upon a young pair of shoulders. So you would do that, eh?”

“Certainly; all’s fair in trade, and the fun of it is that the Essex fish are the best of all, being bred in cold weather, while t’others have to be bred in warm ponds, and are not anything like so hardy.”

“You’ll do, I can see,” said his patroness.

“But did the man bring a hand net with the fish, marm?” inquired the boy. “It don’t do to mess ’em in your hands.”

“No, I don’t know that he did; but I dare say we have such a thing. My dear,” she said, with a dubious smile, “will you go to the lumber-room, and see if you can find one?”

Her elderly companion hesitated for a moment, then went upstairs. In a few minutes she returned with a bundle of nets of various cordage, with handles of stained wood.

These the boy said he might be able to sell with the fish.

Susan crammed a huge packet in his pocket which contained bread and meat—​this was to serve him as a dinner; and he went gaily into the streets.

He returned in the evening in the best of spirits, having been unusually successful.

His good looks, his clean clothes, allied with his cheery manner and lively chatter, won for him plenty of customers.

He was very well satisfied with his day’s work; so also was his mistress, who was no niggard in her praise.

He went out again and again, and in the course of three or four days the vase was empty.

He was called up into the drawing-room and regaled with a glass of spirits and water.

“You’ve done well, Alf, and I’m much pleased with you,” said Miss Stanbridge. “Did you tell your customers that your fish came from foreign parts—​you young rogue?”

“I was obliged to pitch it a little strong with some of them. I told ’em this fish came from one place and that from another. There, I have done wrong,” he added, with a look of humility.

“Dear me! no. All’s fair in trade,” said his mistress. “People in this world like to be humbugged—​I’m quite sure of that; besides, it doesn’t do to be too particular. Why, lor bless me, when I was of your age I didn’t stick at trifles, I can tell you—​not a bit of it.”

And she followed up these observations by telling him a series of stories about the pilferings of her childhood, in such a manner that the boy did not understand that these were thefts she was describing so pleasantly. He was entertained, and thought she was very kind and condescending. So, indeed, she was.

But it was the condecension of a ruthless, remorseless woman, with the face of an enchantress and the heart of a demon.

She had the boy in her toils, and as our story progresses, we shall see what she made of him.

Alf Purvis went to bed that night in a state of mind which was at once happy and confused.

Happy because he had six shillings in his pocket, confused because he was not accustomed to whiskey and water, and because the doctrines which his mistress’s anecdotes appeared to inculcate were so different to those which Mr. Jamblin had been accustomed to propound.

He considered the matter over before going to sleep, and came to the conclusion that one must be wrong. It was clear, however, so he thought, that the citizens of the metropolis and the rustics of the country, just as they dressed in two different styles, so viewed questions of morality from two points of view.

Which view was right he had not at present determined.

It would be a blessing indeed for him if he had never left the roof of the honest old farmer.

He expected to find another consignment of gold fish on the sideboard on the following morning, but in this he was mistaken.

For the next few days he was sent out with second-hand telescopes and opera glasses.

He did not much care about this occupation; he was not so successful.

He had to stand all day at Tower-hill, or by the docks, and waylay the seafaring men as they passed by.

They were hard customers to deal with—​they were not to be talked over; were too wide awake, and were not particular in their expressions.

In addition to this, he was forestalled by a number of Jew dealers, who dealt in articles of that description.

At the end of the week he returned disheartened, and told his mistress he couldn’t get on at all to his satisfaction.

The sailor gentleman, he said, would always insist on trying his telescopes before they would make the least bid for them, and when they did bid they showed themselves much more at home in the matter than he was. They beat him, for even when they were drunk they seemed to understand them just as well.

“I suppose,” cried his mistress, “that they were accustomed to look through telescopes when they were drunk aboard ship. No wonder so many vessels are lost. I haven’t patience to think of such persons; but how about the opera glasses, Alf?”

“Oh, they’re no good at all; nobody would even look at them. When I offered them they said, ‘Get out. What do we want with opera glasses, you little fool? Better wait till we get opera boxes.’”

“Well, we must start you in another line,” said his mistress. “Don’t be disheartened. You can’t always be successful.”

Alf was a little despondent when he retired to rest. He found himself in such comfortable quarters, and was so well cared for, that he dreaded lest his non-success should cause him to be turned adrift.

To be again in the streets, with no friendly hand to help him, he naturally enough dreaded, more especially as he had now tasted the sweets of a comfortable home, for it was a home to him who had been for so long a time a sort of Arab, or outcast.

On the following morning, at his earnest solicitation, his mistress allowed him to try his luck for another day with the telescopes.

Upon his returning in the evening he discovered, much to his surprise, a gentleman at the door—​this being none other than the good Samaritan who had presented him with a shilling at the corner of Parliament-street.

He touched his forelock, and made a respectful bow to the stranger, who eyed him in a most inquiring and searching way.

“Umph! I hardly knew you again,” cried Peace, for it was he.

“Got a suit of new togs, it appears.”

“Yes, sir.”

Susan now opened the door, and Mr. Peace inquired if the mistress was in.

He was shown into the first floor.

He had no reason to complain of the reception he met with from his quondam companion—​Laura Stanbridge—​who professed herself delighted to see him.

“Well, Charlie,” she ejaculated, after the few first civilities had been exchanged; “this puts me in mind of old times. I began to think that you had given me the cut; but I suppose you have been pretty well engaged, or I should have seen something of you.”

“Middling. You see, before I leave London I thought it just as well to see a few of the sights. Perhaps I shan’t have another chance for a goodish while, you know.”

“Ah! just so. Then you are only here for a time—​you intend returning to Sheffield?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“I see, a bird of passage—​eh?”

Peace smiled. Then, after a pause, he said, quickly—

“But, I say, Laura, old girl, who was that boy I saw at the door as I came in?”

“A fair-haired lad?”

“Yes, and good looking. I hardly knew him.”

“Have you seen him before, then?” inquired Miss Stanbridge, in a tone of surprise.

“Aye—​surely.”

“Dear me; how remarkable! You know him, then?”

“Well, I know about him—​have seen him several times in the neighbourhood of Broxbridge.”

“Oh! that’s where he came from.”

“I suppose so. He was with farmer Jamblin. How is it he is here?”

“Poor fellow! he was starving, and—​and—​well, I made him useful, and gave him board and lodging.”

“Ah!” murmured Peace, looking down on the floor of the apartment. “Well, I suppose it’s all right?” here he whistled.

His companion burst out into a loud laugh.

“You’re not getting nasty particular, I hope?” she ejaculated.

“I suppose the boy is nothing to you?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Do you know any of his relatives—​his father or mother?”

“Not I; but he hasn’t got any. He’s an orphan—​so I’ve been told. As to his late master, Jamblin, it would not much matter if he were at the bottom of the sea; but let us pass on to something which more immediately concerns me. I want you to do me a favour.”

Laura Stanbridge clapped her hands together, and said joyfully—

“Certainly, old man, with pleasure. What is it?”

“You are mistress of this house, I suppose?”

“Yes. All right; go on.”

“And you can let me have the use of one of the top attics for a night?”

“Of course I can, for as many nights as you like for the matter of that. But, I say, what’s your little game? You have something on—​that I can see plain enough.”

“You are right, I have. Between us there should be no concealment; there should be mutual confidence.”

The girl smiled and nodded.

Peace went on.

He could be plausible enough when it answered his purpose.

“Well, this is it,” he said in continuation. “A crib is to be cracked, and I want to gain the roof of this block of buildings. I can do so easily enough by creeping through one of the windows of your attics. That’s plain enough for you, isn’t it?”

“Most unmistakeably plain. You want to get through one of the attic windows. Well, and what then?”

“The rest is my business. Once on the roof I shall know how to work. What say you? Will you oblige an old pal?”

“I dare not refuse you so trifling a favour; but you must understand, Charlie, that if I am suspected, and a search is made in this house, I am done for. At present I am not suspected, but—”

“You have no call to be alarmed; I shall emerge from the window. Close it after me, and no one will be any the wiser.”

“Let us hope such will be the case.”

“You don’t care about running any risk to serve a friend—​is that what you mean?”

“I have not said so, Charles. It is you who will have to run the risk. You are welcome to the use of the room, or rather the window. Take care, however, you don’t fall down and break your neck.”

“Where does the maid servant sleep?”

“In the back room second floor.”

“Does anyone occupy either of the attics?”

“No. One is used as a lumber room, the other as an occasional bedroom, but not often. You can occupy it if you like.”

“That is precisely what I wish to do.”

“The matter is easily arranged. You can have a latch-key and let yourself in after we are all in bed. Creep upstairs, and enter the room. Let me at once show you the way to it.”

Laura Stanbridge rose and conducted Peace into the attic in question.

He said nothing could be better adapted for his purpose.

It was agreed between the two conspirators that the door should be left unbolted, and Peace was at liberty to enter at what hour he thought best suited for his purpose.

His female companion presented him with a latch-key, and after some further conversation and protestations of friendship on either side, he took his departure, well satisfied with his diplomatic arrangement.

It was not, however, without considerable misgivings that Miss Stanbridge had yielded to his request, and had it not been that she was in his power, and therefore dreaded to make him her enemy, she most likely would have given him a point-blank refusal. As it was she had no other alternative. She knew the man she was dealing with, and therefore deemed it advisable to temporise. Peace had taken her by surprise, and had talked to her in such a plausible way that she was thrown off her guard, and had given in without the faintest show of resistance.