The Mysteries of London (Vol. 1-4). George W. M. Reynolds
and sly;
B was a Buzgloak, with fingers so fly;
C was a Cracksman, that forked all the plate;
D was a Dubsman, who kept the jug-gate.
For we are rollicking chaps,
All smoking, singing, boozing;
We care not for the traps,
But pass the night carousing!
E was an Efter,[54] that went to the play; F was a Fogle he knapped on his way; G was a Gag, which he told to the beak; H was a Hum-box,[55] where parish-prigs speak. Chorus.
I was an Ikey,[56] with swag all encumbered; J was a Jug, in whose cell he was lumbered; K was a Kye-bosh,[57] that paid for his treat; L was a Leaf[58] that fell under his feet. Chorus.
M was a Magsman, frequenting Pall-Mall;
N was a Nose that turned chirp on his pal;
O was an Onion,[59] possessed by a swell; P was a Pannie, done niblike and well. Chorus.
Q was a Queer-screen, that served as a blind;[60] R was a Reader.[61] with flimsies well lined; S was a Smasher, so nutty and spry; T was a Ticker,[62] just faked from a cly. Chorus.
U was an Up-tucker,[63] fly with the cord; V was a Varnisher,[64] dressed like a lord; Y was a Yoxter[65] that eat caper sauce:[66] Z was a Ziff[67] who was flashed on the horse.[68] For we are rollicking chaps All smoking, singing, boozing: We care not for the traps, But pass the night carousing.[69]
In this manner did the three thieves pass the first hours of morning at the old house in Chick Lane.
At length the heavy and sonorous voice of Saint Paul's proclaimed six o'clock. It still wanted an hour to sun-rise; but they now thought it prudent to separate.
Tom the Cracksman and Dick Flairer arranged together a "little piece of business" for the ensuing night, which they hoped would prove more fortunate than their attempt on the villa at Upper Clapton; but Dick faithfully promised Bill Bolter to return to him in the evening before he set out on the new expedition.
Matters being thus agreed upon, the moment for the murderer's concealment arrived. We have before stated that the entire grate in the room which the villains frequented, could be removed; and that, when taken out of its setting, it revealed an aperture of considerable dimensions. At the bottom of this square recess was a trap-door, communicating with a narrow and spiral staircase, that led into a vault adjoining and upon the same level with the very cellar from which Walter Sydney had so miraculously escaped.
The possibility of such an architectural arrangement being fully carried out, with a view to provide a perfect means of concealment, will be apparent to our readers, when we state that the side of the house farthest from the Fleet Ditch was constructed with a double brick wall, and that the spiral staircase consequently stood between those two partitions. The mode in which the huge chimneys were built, also tended to ensure the complete safety of that strange hiding-place, and to avert any suspicion that might for a moment be entertained of the existence of such a retreat in that old house.
Even in case the secret of the moveable grate should be discovered, the eye of the most acute thief-taker would scarcely detect the trap-door at the bottom of the recess, so admirably was it made to correspond with the brick-work that formed its frame.
The vault with which the spiral staircase corresponded, was about fourteen feet long by two-and-a-half wide. An iron grating of eight inches square, overlooking the Fleet Ditch, was all the means provided to supply that living tomb with fresh—we cannot say pure—air. If the atmosphere of the hiding-place were thus neither wholesome nor pleasant, it did not at least menace existence; and a residence in that vault for even weeks and weeks together was deemed preferable to the less "cribbed, cabined, and confined" sojourn of Newgate.
But connected with the security of this vault was one fearful condition. The individual who sought its dark solitude, could not emancipate himself at will. He was entirely at the mercy of those confederates who were entrusted with his secret. Should anything happen to these men—should they be suddenly overtaken by the hand of death, then starvation must be the portion of the inmate of that horrible vault: and should they fall into the hands of justice, then the only service they could render their companion in the living tomb, would be to reveal the secret of his hiding-place.
Up to the time of which we are writing, since the formation of that strange lurking-hole in the days of the famous Jonathan Wild, three or four persons had alone availed themselves of the vault as a means of personal concealment. In the first place, the secret existed but with a very few and secondly, it was only in cases where life and death were concerned that a refuge was sought in so fearful an abode.
When the grate was removed and the trap-door was opened, the entire frame of Bill Bolter became suddenly convulsed with horror. He dreaded to be left to the mercy of his own reflections!
"It's infernally damp," said Bill, his teeth chattering as much with fear as with the cold.
Fearful, however, of exciting the disgust and contempt of his companions at what might be termed his pusillanimous conduct, he mustered up all his courage, shook hands with the Cracksman and Flairer, and then insinuated his person through the aperture.
"You may as well take the pipes and baccy along with you, old feller," returned Dick.
"And here's a thimble-full of brandy left in the flask," added the Cracksman.
"This evenin' I'll bring you a jolly wack of the bingo," said Flairer.
Provided with the little comforts just specified, the murderer descended the spiral staircase into the vault.
The trap-door closed above his head; and the grate was replaced with more than usual care and caution.
The Cracksman and Dick Flairer then took their departure from the old house, in the foundation of which a fellow-creature was thus strangely entombed alive!
CHAPTER XXIV.
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.
LET us now return to Mr. Whittingham, whom we left in serious and unfeigned tribulation at the moment when his young master was taken into custody upon the charge of passing a forged note.
The Bow Street runner whom the officer had left behind to search the house, first possessed himself of the two letters which were lying upon the table in Markham's library, and which were addressed respectively to Mrs. Arlington and Mr. Monroe. The functionary then commenced a strict investigation of the entire premises; and, at the end, appeared marvellously surprised that he had not found a complete apparatus for printing forged notes, together with a quantity of the false articles themselves. This search, nevertheless, occupied three hours; and, when it was over, he took his departure, quite sulky because he had nothing to offer as evidence save the two sealed letters, which might be valuable in that point of view, or might not.
The moment this unwelcome guest had quitted the house, the butler,