The Mysteries of London, Vol. II [Unabridged & Illustrated] (Valancourt Classics)
Page 46
With these words the old man rose, and shuffled out of the room.
His denunciation of the abominable system of doctoring wines, spirits, and malt liquors produced a gloomy effect upon the company whom he left behind. The Buffer glanced often and often towards the clock: the time was passing rapidly; and yet the person for whom he was waiting came not.
“Who’ll tip us a song?” said the Knacker, glancing around.
“There’s Jovial Jenkins up in the corner there,” exclaimed the cat’s-meat man. “He’s the chap for a song.”
“Well, I don’t mind, pals,” cried a diminutive specimen of the male sex, dressed in a suit of clothes every way too large for him. “What shall I sing yer? Oh! I s’pose it must be the favourite—eh? Come—here goes, then.”
And in another minute the parlour of the boozing-ken reverberated with the intonations of the following strange song:—[1]
[1] In order to avoid breaking the sense of this song by a constant repetition of those typographical signs which point a reference to foot-notes, we have deemed it best to give a complete glossary:—
Lip us a chant. Sing us a song.
Mum your dubber. Keep your mouth shut.
My gropus clinks coppers. My pocket has got money in it.
Fake the rubber. Stand treat this time.
Noggin of lightning. Quartern of gin.
Slacken your glib. Loosen your tongue.
Cease napping the bib. Leave off whining.
Precious-rum squeeze at the Spell. Good evening’s work at the theatre.
Yokel. Countryman.
Forks. Fingers.
Rum-Tom-Pat. Clergyman.
Kickseys. Breeehcs.
Twitch. Silk net purse.
Glims. Spectacles.
Snitch. Nose.
Hock-dockeys. Shoes.
Gam-cases. Stockings.
Parish prig. Parson.
Nib-cove. Gentleman.
Chanting the play. Explaining the tricks and manœuvres of thieves.
Shov’d my trunk. Moved off.
Gay-tyke-boy. Dog-fancier.
Chirp. Give information.
Spelt in the leer. Advertised in the newspaper.
Leg-glazier. A thief who carries the apparatus of a glazier, and calls at houses when he knows the master and mistress are out, telling the servant that he has been sent to clean and mend the windows. By these means he obtains admission, and plunders the house of any thing which he can conveniently carry off.
Fadger. Glazier’s frame.
Squibs. Paint brushes.
Nibsomest cribs. Best houses.
Blue-bottles. Police.
Flue-flaker. Chimney-sweeper.
Slavey. Female servant.
Flag. Fourpenny-piece.
Fly the blue-pigeon. Cut the lead off the roof.
Bank the rag. Make some money.
Mabber. Cab-driver.
Dose the swell fred. Inveigle the fare into a public-house and hocus him.
Vamper. A fellow who frequents public-houses, where he picks a quarrel with any person who has got a ring or a watch about him, his object being to lead the person into a pugilistic encounter, so as to afford the vamper’s confederate, or pal, the opportunity of robbing him.
Mill for a ned. Fight for a sovereign.
Gams. Legs.
Ticker. Watch.
Flamms. Rings.
Swell-street. The West End.
Mounseer-fak’d calp. A hat of French manufacture.
Strummel. Hair.
Heater-cases. Wellington boots.
Lully. Shirt.
Upper ben. Coat.
Rain-napper. Umbrella.
Gold-headed dick. Riding-whip.
River-tick. Tradesmen’s books.
Box of the stone-jug. Cell in Newgate.
Hobbled. Committed for trial.
Macing. Swindling.
’Twill prove but a debt. Swindlers of this class usually arrange their business in such a manner as to escape conviction on the plea that the business is a mere matter of debt. In order to induce the jury to come to this decision, recourse is had to the assistance of pals, who depose to conversations which they pretended to overhear between the prosecuting tradesman and the swindling prisoner, but which in reality never took place.
THE MAN OF MANY PURSUITS.
Come, lip us a chant, pals! Why thus mum your dubber?
My gropus clinks coppers, and I’ll fake the rubber:
Here’s a noggin of lightning to slacken your glib;—
Then pass round the lush, and cease napping the bib.
T’other night we’d a precious rum squeeze at the Spell,
And, togg’d as a yokel, I used my forks well;
From a Rum-Tom-Pat’s kickseys I knapp’d a green twitch,
And nearly got off the gold glims from his snitch.
But a swell with hock-dockeys and silken gam-cases,
Put the parish prig up to the rig of such places;—
So, finding the nib-cove was chanting the play,
I shov’d my trunk nimbly and got clean away.
As a jolly gay-tyke-boy I sometimes appear,
And chirp for the curs that are spelt in the leer;
Or as a leg-glazier, with fadger and squibs,
I work my way into the nibsomest cribs.
But when on these dodges the blue-bottles blow,
As a flue-flaker togg’d then at day-break I show:
And though from the slavey I get but a flag,
I can fly the blue-pigeon and thus bank the rag.
Sometimes as a mabber I dose the swell fred;—
Or else as a vamper I mill for a ned;
And as soon as my man is tripp’d up by the gams,
A pal knaps his ticker, or frisks off his flamms.
But the life that I love is in Swell-street to shine,
With a Mounseer-fak’d calp, and my strummel all fine,
Heater-cases well polish’d, and lully so white,
And an upper ben fitting me jaunty and tight.
Then with nice silk rain-napper, or gold-headed dick,
I plunge neck and heels into sweet river-tick,
And if in a box of the stone-jug I get,
Though hobbled for macing, ’twill prove but a debt.
Then lip us a chant, pals! Why thus mum your dubber?
My gropus clinks coppers, and I’ll fake the rubber:
A noggin of lightning will slacken our glib;
So pass round the lush, and let none nap the bib.
“Brayvo, Jovial Jen!” shouted the inmates of the boozing-ken parlour.
“You’re the prince of good fellers at a spree,” said the Knacker: “and I’ll stand a quartern of blue ruin and two outs, in spite o’ what old Swiggs said of the lush.”
The promised treat was called, paid for, and disposed of.
Scarcely had the applause, which greeted this song, terminated, when the door opened, and Lafleur, Mr. Greenwood’s French valet, entered the room.
He was disguised in a large rough coat and slouched hat; but the Buffer immediately recognised his countenance, and hurried to meet him.
“You’re late,” said the Buffer, in a low tone.
“Yes—I could not come before,” answered the valet. “But I knew that you would wait for me, as I told you yesterday that the business was important.”
“Well, we can’t talk here,” observed the Buffer. “There’s a snug room up-stairs devoted to them that’s got private
business: and I’ll show you the way.”
The Buffer left the parlour, followed by Lafleur, whom he conducted to a private apartment on the first floor. A bottle of wine was ordered; and when the waiter had withdrawn, the Buffer made a sign for his companion to explain the object of the interview.
“You know very well that I am in the service of Mr. Greenwood, the Member of Parliament?” began Lafleur.
“Yes—me and two pals once did a little job for him on the Richmond road,” answered the Buffer.
“You mean the affair of the robbery of Count Alteroni?” said Lafleur.
“Well—I do, since you know it. Does your master tell you all his secrets?” demanded the Buffer.
“No—no,” was the reply; and the Frenchman gave a sly laugh. “But he can’t very well prevent me listening at the door of his room, when he’s engaged with people on particular business. I know enough to ruin him for ever.”
“So much the better for you. There’s nothing like being deep in one’s master’s secrets: it gives you a hold on him.”
“Let us talk of the present business,” said Lafleur. “Are you the man to do a small robbery on the Dover road, as skilfully as you helped to do it on the Richmond road?”
“I’m the man to do any thing for fair reglars,” answered the Buffer. “Go on.”
“I will explain myself in a few words,” continued Lafleur. “By dint of listening at doors and looking over my master’s papers when he was out, I have made a grand discovery. To-morrow evening Greenwood leaves town in a post-chaise and four for Dover. It seems that he has embarked in some splendid speculation with a house in Paris, and the success of it depends on influencing the rates of exchange between English and French money. He will take with him twenty thousand pounds in gold and Bank of England notes to effect this purpose.”
“Never mind the rigmarole of the reasons,” said the Buffer; “for I don’t understand them no more than the Queen does the papers she signs, they say, by dozens and dozens at a sitting.”
“It is sufficient, then, for you to know that Mr. Greenwood will leave London to-morrow evening with twenty thousand pounds, in a post-chaise,” proceeded Lafleur. “His Italian valet and myself are to accompany him; and we are all to be well armed.”
“What sort of a feller is your Italian wally?” demanded the Buffer.
“Not one of our sort,” replied Lafleur; “he will do his duty to his master, although I don’t think he has any very great love for him.”
“Greenwood believes you to be stanch also, s’pose?”
“Of course he does. I shall have to see that his master’s pistols are in proper order, and place them in the chaise; but the Italian will take care of his own. There will, consequently, only be one pair loaded with ball.”
“I understand you,” said the Buffer. “Still that one pair of pistols may send two good chaps to Davy Jones.”
“Risk nothing, get nothing,” observed Lafleur. “The chances are that Filippo and I shall ride together on the dickey: if so, the moment the horses are stopped, I shall have nothing more or less to do than turn suddenly on Filippo and prevent him from doing any mischief.”
“So far, so good,” said the Buffer. “But I ought to have at least three pals with me. Remember, there’s two postillions; Greenwood himself won’t part with his tin without a struggle; and Filippo, as as you call him, might master you.”
“Can you get three men as resolute as yourself to accompany you?” asked Lafleur.
“The notice is so deuced short,” returned the Buffer; “but I think I can reckon on two. Long Bob and the Lully Prig,” he added, in a musing tone, “are certain to jine in.”
“Three of you will scarcely be sufficient,” said Lafleur. “Only think of the sum that’s at stake: we mustn’t risk the loss of it by any want of precaution on our parts.”
“Well—I must see,” cried the Buffer. “It isn’t that I don’t know many chaps in my line; but the thing is to get one that we’re sure on—that won’t peach either afore or arterwards. Ah! I lost my best pal in Tony Tidkins—poor feller!”
“The Resurrection Man, you mean?” said Lafleur.
“The same. Greenwood was a good patron of his’n,” observed the Buffer; “but that wouldn’t have perwented him from jining in along with me.”
“I remember that Greenwood wanted Tidkins for some business or another nearly a year ago,” said the French valet; “and he sent me with a note to him at this very place. He did not, however, come; but I called here a few days afterwards, and heard that he had received the letter.”
“That was just about the time poor Tidkins was desperately wounded by Crankey Jem,” said the Buffer, rather speaking to himself than to his companion; “and circumstances forced him to keep deuced close arterwards. But that’s neither here nor there: let’s talk on our own business. Leave me to get a proper number of pals; and now answer me a question or two. At what time does Greenwood intend to start?”
“At seven o’clock. He means to get to Dover so as to have a few hours’ sleep before the packet leaves for Calais.”
“Then the business mustn’t be done this side of Chatham,” said the Buffer: “it would be too early. There’s a nice lonely part of the road, I remember, between Newington and Sittingbourne, with a chalk-pit near, where we can divide the swag, and each toddle off in different directions arterwards. The chaise will reach that place about ten. Now, one more question:—where will the blunt be stowed away?”
“Under the seat inside, no doubt,” answered Lafleur. “Then I may consider the business agreed upon between us?”
“As good as done, almost,” said the Buffer.
At this moment the conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.
The waiter entered, and whispered something to the Buffer.
“By God, how fortunate!” ejaculated this individual, his countenance suddenly assuming an expression of the most unfeigned joy. “Show him up—this minute!”
The waiter disappeared.
“Who is it?” demanded Lafleur.
“The very person we are in want of! He has turned up again:—that feller has as many lives as a cat.”
“But who is it?” repeated Lafleur impatiently.
Before the Buffer could answer the question, the door was thrown open, and the Resurrection Man entered the room.
CHAPTER CLXXXI.
THE RESURRECTION MAN AGAIN.
Anthony Tidkins was dressed in a most miserable manner; and his whole appearance denoted poverty and privation. He was thin and emaciated; his eyes were sunken; his cheeks hollow; and his entire countenance more cadaverous and ghastly than ever.
“My dear fellow,” cried the Buffer, springing forward to meet him; “how glad I am to see you again. I really thought as how you was completely done for.”
“And no thanks to you that I wasn’t,” returned the Resurrection Man gruffly. “Didn’t you leave me to die like a dog in the plague-ship?”
“I’ve been as sorry about that there business, Tony, ever since it happened, as one can well be,” said the Buffer: “but if you remember the hurry and bustle of the sudden panic that came over us, I’m sure you won’t harbour no ill-feeling.”
“Well, well—the least said, the soonest’s mended,” growled the Resurrection Man, taking his friend’s hand. “Holloa, Lafleur! What are you doing here?”
“Business—business, Mr. Tidkins,” answered the valet; “and you’re the very man we are in want of.”
“The very man,” echoed the Buffer. “I give up the command of the expedition to him: he’s my old captain.”
“In the first place, order me up some grub and a pint of brandy,” said the Resurrection Man; “for I’ve been precious short of every thing at all decent in the eating or drinking way of late;—and whil
e I refresh myself with some supper, you can tell me what new scheme there is in the wind. Of course I’m your man, if there’s any good to be done.”
The waiter was summoned: Lafleur ordered him to bring up the entire contents of the larder, together with a bottle of brandy; and when these commands were obeyed, the Resurrection Man fell to work with extraordinary voracity, while the French valet briefly explained to him the nature of the business already propounded to the Buffer.
The hopes of obtaining a considerable sum of money animated the eyes of Tidkins with fire and his cadaverous countenance with a glow of fiendish satisfaction. He highly approved of the idea of engaging the Lully Prig and Long Bob in the enterprise; for he entertained a good opinion of their courage, in spite of the affair of the plague-ship. Indeed, he could well understand the invincible nature of the panic-terror which had seized upon them on that occasion; and, as he foresaw that their co-operation would be valuable in other matters, he was disposed to forget the past.
In fine, all the preliminary arrangements were made with Lafleur, who presented the two villains each with a ten pound-note as an earnest of his sincerity, and then took his departure.