CHAPTERCXXX.CHARLES PEACE AND HIS UNLAWFUL GAINS—A VISIT TO MR. SIMMONDS—A SURPRISE AND ESCAPE.Once more we are constrained to return to the Evalina-road, for the purpose of seeing how it fares with the hero of this work.Charles Peace had up to the present time not only escaped detection, but had managed his affairs with such success that not the faintest breath of suspicion fell upon him.He was looked upon by his neighbours as the same easy-going, agreeable old gentleman of independent means as he had been deemed ever since the first few months of his life at Peckham.His musical evenings were as frequent as of yore. He was seen occasionally in the garden and at the front entrance of his habitation, and appeared to be a quiet, discreet person, who to all appearance was what he professed to be—a man of thoughtful, studious habits, and the general impression was that there was no harm in him.It is true that at times there were evidences of a storm within the house atNo.4, but this was attributable more to the irritable nature of the female residents than to the quiet and unobtrusive master of the establishment.But Peace, during this interval of time was industriously pursuing his lawless practices. The number of burglaries that had been committed in the surrounding districts seemed perfectly incredible, but no one suspected that Mr. Thompson had any hand in them.Peace’s house was crammed with articles of almost every conceivable description, which were, as may be easily conjectured, the produce of lawless depredations.His two female companions must have been perfectly well aware that he was a wholesale and unscrupulous robber, although they both of them afterwards declared that they knew nothing about his numerous burglaries.This upon the face of it appears to be altogether incredible, but it is perhaps just as well to give them the benefit of the doubt. They might have suspected, but possibly they were discreet enough to close their eyes to actual facts.The house in the Evalina-road was at this time so crammed full of stolen goods that its occupant deemed it expedient to get rid of the greater portion of the articles.If by any chance the place underwent an inspection by the police, there would be no possibility of Peace accounting for the possession of such a heterogeneous collection of property.When in any difficulty he generally called into requisition his faithful comrade and ally, Bandy-legged Bill.So one evening, when the sagacious Mr. William Rawton was engaged with a fragrant weed and a bit of music at the house in the Evalina-road, Charles Peace broached the subject.The two women were at this time at the house of a neighbour, and Willie Ward had been sent on an errand.“I say, Bill, old man,” observed Peace, “I am a bit lumbered up here with a lot of things which would be best out of the way. Do you see?”“Well, I should just say I did see, and no flies,” cried Bill. “Why, Charlie, you’ve got what one might call a regular museum, a sort of old curiosity shop, stowed away in nooks and corners. It would not be particularly healthy for yer if the pleece were to take a review of all the blessed lot—not at all healthy.”“I quite agree with you, Bill. So I’ve been thinking we had better have a clearance—get shut of the whole blooming lot, eh?”“Right you are, guv’nor. Turn the whole blessed collection into ready money. Get as many quids as you can for them, and then snap your fingers at the blooming bobbies.”“That’s just what I intend to do. So you see, Bill, we will, now the place is all to ourselves, set about the business at once.”“What do you mean?”“Just this. I’ve got two or three old hampers in the stable, and I want your assistance.”“All right; I’m on.”“Very well. We will at once proceed to fill the hampers, and to-morrow, please the pigs, will get them off to the East-end, to old Simmonds—he’ll give as much as anybody.”“Don’t care a great deal about Simmonds—he’s not a square sort of chap, to my thinking.”“It does not matter what ‘fence’ we take them to. All I want to do to-night is to get the goods ready for starting.”Peace lighted a hand-lamp and bade his companion follow him. Then the two conveyed a number of articles to the stables, and when there they packed them up in as small a compass as possible in the hampers to which Peace had made allusion.The greater portion of the property was safely stowed away in the hampers, which were afterwards tied down with long cord.All this had been done in an incredibly short space of time. Then the burglar and his horsey companion sat down on the corded baskets and discussed the intended procedings of the morrow.“Poor Tommy, my beautiful little pet, is gone!” said Peace, with something like sorrow in his tone. “I shan’t get another like him in a hurry, Bill. But it’s of no use grieving—it was to be, I suppose, and so there’s an end of that matter.”“Ah, poor old Tommy! but lord bless you, nothing in the world would have saved him. But it ain’t of no use dwelling on that now. These precious hampers have to be got, somehow or other, to Whitechapel—that’s quite certain. There won’t be much difficulty about that ere. I’ll bring a trap round we can shove ’em in, and the rest is an easy matter. I shall be glad when we’ve got shut of them.”“So shall I. Are you going to borrow a trap, then?”“Ah, yes, Joe Starker will lend me one in a minute. There ain’t no manner of trouble about that. Say the word, Charlie. Tell me what time I am to be here, and it shall be done like a shot, and no flies.”“Eight o’clock to-morrow evening will do very well, I think.”“All right, guv’nor, eight o’clock let it be, then.”“And drive round to the back yard, without saying a word to anyone.”“I’m on; so be it, Charlie.”This little matter having been thus satisfactorily arranged, Peace and the gipsy returned to the parlour.Willie Ward had by this time returned, and he and our hero, as usual, began to play duets.Presently the ladies of the establishment presented themselves, and a social and convivial evening was passed.Rawton left at a little before twelve, with a promise to be there on the following evening.Peace, of course, did not go out on a depredating excursion for that night.Punctual to his appointment, Bandy-legged Bill drove into the back yard ofNo.4 at about a quarter before eight on the succeeding night.Peace was ready to receive him, and the hampers were quickly lifted into the cart, whereupon the two friends proceeded at once in the direction of Whitechapel.“We’ll try Simmonds first,” said our hero. “Cunning Isaac, as we call him, is a rapacious old scoundrel, who wants things for next door to nothing. Simmonds is worth two of him.”“I don’t like either of them, if the truth is to be told,” cried the gipsy; “but, lord, they aint any of them worth much, as far as that is concerned. The whole biling of them are a set of bloodsuckers, but there, I dare say you will ask what’s a cove to do.”“Yes, that’s just where it is. We can’t do without them, Bill—there aint any mistake about that. I look upon it that men and women prey upon one another like wild beasts. The ‘fence’ preys upon the ‘cracksman,’ the cracksman—well, he preys upon the public—that is, the rich public—and they in most cases have made their money out of the poor. From the lowest to the highest it is one system of cheating and robbing—that’s my view of the matter.”“Oh, you are not far off the mark, it’s right enough,” returned Bill. “You are never so happy as when you are moralising,” he added, with a laugh.“Ah, you may laugh,” cried Peace, “but pray tell me how many persons you know in this world as you can trust—just you answer that question.”“Jolly few, if that’s what you mean. You may count ’em on your fingers, and not want all on ’em to do so.”“No. I should think not.”“But, I say, what blooming crib are yer bound for?” said the gipsy; “for we are coming to close quarters, now.”“Oh, we will see what Simmonds says. I shall leave you to strike the bargain. Take one hamper into him, and see what he offers.”“I tell yer what it is, Charlie, I don’t care about the job, cos why—he don’t like me, and I’ve no affection for him. You’ll do a deal better with him than what I can—so just pop down upon the old rascal, and I think I shall be able to work Isaac.”“Oh, you prefer Isaac, do you?”“Well, yes I do. Every man has his fancy. Some can get along with one, which perhaps another cove wouldn’t be able to work not nohow whatsoever.”Mr. Simmonds’s establishment stood in one of the streets which ran at right angles out of the Whitechapel-road.It was not an aristocratic-looking shop, and the immediate neighbourhood surrounding it could not be considered either cleanly or odoriferous.Mr. Simmonds himself was not altogether a pattern of cleanliness—neither could he be considered particularly handsome. His nose was long, and his mouth was wide. In short, his features, taken altogether, would lead a superficial observer to the conclusion that he was a gentleman of the Hebrew persuasion.Still Mr. Simmonds had contrived to drive a very profitable trade. He was very well known, and always ready to purchase goods of every conceivable description, and it was not his practice to ask impertinent questions.He therefore drove a profitable trade.Charles Peace was very well acquainted with him, and had had with him many business transactions.A well-known journalist, at the time Peace carried on his lawless practices in the Evalina-road, was desirous of knowing how he disposed of his plunder. “There is more in this question,” said he, “than the police were able to discover.”In cases of common burglary the usual course is for the thief to make his way direct to some safe “fence” and drive the best bargain he can of the receiver. But Peace was no common burglar.The more I enquire into the life and habits of those in his establishment at Peckham, the less disposed I am to believe that Mrs. Thompson acted as a “go-between.” Certainly the boy, “Willie Ward,” was not entrusted with such delicate missions, and I am pretty certain the services of Mrs. Ward would only be resorted to when things were growing desperate.The impression at Peckham was, that Peace had a male accomplice, a clever unscrupulous fellow like himself, and not at all dissimilar physically, but even superior to Peace himself.This surmise on the part of the journalist in question was correct, the accomplice in question being none other than “Bandy-legged Bill.”Upon coming in front of Mr. Simmonds’s respectable establishment Peace alighted, and without further ado took one of the hampers into the Jew’s shop.“I am happy and proud to see you,” cried Simmonds. “Anything in my way?”“Yes,” returned Peace. “You can look over the articles in this hamper, and see what you can afford to give for them.”“Yesh, yesh, my tear friend, I vill do so, but business is bad and money is tight—still I’ll do my best for you.”“I am not going to be chiselled if I can help it,” returned Peace; “so don’t think to come any of your hanky-panky tricks over me.”“Lord bless us, how suspicious you are! S’help me goodness, I do my best for all of you, my very best. But I say just bring the things into the back parlour, there’s a good fellow. Oh, you don’t know what risks we run.”Peace dragged the hamper into the small room at the back of the shop. The Jew then began to make a careful inspection of the articles as he drew them forth. He approved them as he did so, putting them down on the tablet of his memory at fifty per cent. less than their intrinsic value.While thus engaged he dodged and ducked his head, every now and then peering into the front shop through the dingy and dirt-begrimed glass of the door which separated the parlour from the outer shop.There was, of course, the usual haggling—the price the Hebrew offered was too ridiculous for Peace to accept. Then followed the expletives and oaths, without which no bargain of this description could be concluded. At length, however, Peace consented to take seventy pounds for the goods, whereupon the Jew handed down a fifty pound note and twenty sovereigns to our hero, who pocketed the same.The bargain had hardly been concluded when two persons entered the Jew’s shop. Mr. Simmonds looked through the curtain which hung over the window of the door of the parlour, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.“What’s up?” cried Peace, in some alarm.“Two detectives,” was the quick rejoinder.“The devil!” exclaimed our hero, looking into the shop. “And one of them——”“Well, what?” ejaculated Simmonds.“One of the blokes I know; and what is worse he knows me.”“And wants you?”Peace nodded significantly.“Gracious! However, I would not have a customer of mine ‘copped’ in my place; no, not for the world.”“What’s to be done,” said Peace. “Is there any means of escape? I must not be seen by the tall ones or I am a lost man.”“Father, two gentlemen want to speak to you,” said a youth in the shop, who was Simmonds’s son.“Fly up-stairs,” cried the Jew, “and hook it. I will keep them in conversation. Step it at once.”Peace required no second bidding; he left the back parlour just as the Jew entered his shop.“Your servant, gentlemen,” said he in oleaginous accents. “Vat can I do for you?”“Have you purchased a watch to day or yesterday, bearing on its face the name of Velluming,” said one of the detectives.“No! Haven’t purchased any watch for a week or more.”“You are quite sure of that?”“Oh, yes—certainly I am.”“Wasn’t there a person in your back parlour when we entered?” said the taller of the two.“Nobody but myself,” returned Simmonds, in a confident tone.The detectives exchanged glances, and conversed in whispers.“We have very good reasons for doubting your statement, Mr. Simmonds,” said one of them.“Vell, gentlemen, I do hope you believe I wouldn’t tell you a deliberate lie. Please tell me your business.”“If you are speaking the truth there cannot be any possible objection to your letting us search the premises.”“But vat for? I haven’t done anything against the law?”“No matter about that. Will you or will you not permit us to run over the premises?”“I think it is very unbecoming of you to make such a request,” said Simmonds; “but I suppose you know your own business best. Search the house if you like.”The two detectives entered the back parlour. Of course Charles Peace was not there. Then they passed out into the passage and began to ascend the stairs leading to the upper rooms.“I don’t think yer acting in at all a proper manner, gentlemen,” exclained Simmonds, speaking as loud as he could, “and I must protest against such proceedings. Do you think I harbour thieves?”“We don’tthink,” observed the detectives.“Well, I won’t say any more, as I shall be only subjecting myself to insults,” cried the Jew. “Rachel!” he said, in continuation, calling to his wife, who was in one of the upstair rooms. “Don’t be alarmed, tear. Two strange shentlemen are coming upstairs. They won’t hurt you. Don’t be alarmed—it’s all right, they know their business, and I know mine.”“He must have got clear off by this time, I should suppose,” muttered the Jew to himself. “If he hasn’t, vell, the Lord help him, for I can’t.”Charles Peace, after leaving the back parlour, at once made for the topmost story of the house. In one of the back rooms he found a double dormer window. He passed through this, closed it carefully after him, and then gained the roof.He must have considered himself hardly pressed, for after going along the slates he got into another house through the window, which he also closed after him.The room in which he now found himself was unoccupied, but upon descending below he came across a woman, who was the landlady of the habitation. She was greatly surprised at beholding Mr. Peace, who, however, put the best face on the matter.“My dear madam,” said he, “I am sure from your appearance that you are not one to refuse succour to a persecuted man. The police are after me, and I have contrived to elude them for the present. Will you befriend me?”“How can I do that?”“By letting me remain here for awhile.”“But you may have committed some dreadful crime, and if such be the case I shall get into trouble for harbouring you.”“Do not be in any way alarmed—I have not committed any dreadful crime. Do I look a man likely to do such a thing?”“I can’t say you do, but appearances are often deceptive. What are you charged with?”“Oh, a mere trifle. Deserting my wife and children. The fact is, I have been out of work, but now I am doing very well, and intend to rejoin my family. But if I am caught it will be my ruin, for my employer will, in all probability, discharge me. I will pay you handsomely for the accommodation if you will only let me remain here.”The woman, who was naturally kind-hearted, hesitated.“It is a most extraordinary thing you entering the house in the way you have done. I don’t know what to say about it.”“Take pity on me. You will not refuse. I am known to some of your neighbours, who will answer for my respectability.”“Who do you know, then?”“Mr. Simmonds; he will tell you all about me.”“Ah, Mr. Simmonds—eh?” returned the woman, in dubious accents.“Yes. Do you know him?”“I know him as a near neighbour, that is all. Well, you had better come downstairs and sit in the front parlour for a time.”“Oh, thank you kindly. You are a dear good creature. I was sure of that when I first saw you.”“I would much prefer you going away at once.”“So should I, if it were possible, but it is not, and you will let me remain till the coast is clear.”“Come down into the front parlour. What will my lodgers think of me, talking to a perfect stranger in this way? Come down.”“Ah, certainly, with the greatest pleasure.”Peace descended, and was shown into the lady’s sitting-room.“Now, sir,” said she, “you must make yourself as contented as possible. I cannot find it in my heart to give you up to the police. I hope and trust you have spoken the truth.”“I swear——”“There is no necessity to do that. I will take your word, that is sufficient.”“Quite so. I am sure you will never regret doing this act of kindness to a poor fellow in trouble.”“I hope I never may have cause to regret it, but you certainly are a most extraordinary sort of man, and that’s the truth.”“It will be all right if I succeed in concealing myself so that I may avoid needless exposure. I intend to return to my family to-morrow, and then there will be an end of the business.”While Charles Peace was concealed in the parlour of the house into which he had so unceremoniously entered, the two detectives ran through the rooms of the Jew’s habitation, but they could not discover any stranger in any of the apartments which Mr. Simmonds opened obsequiously one after the other.The detectives saw they were at fault, and they assumed an apologetic tone, and expressed their regret at having been so troublesome, stating, at the same time, that they had a duty to perform, and that they were in search of a gentleman who was “wanted.”The Jew’s son, who had been left in charge of the shop, was a sharp-witted, precocious young gentleman, who, like his father, had an eye to business. He thought it just as well to take the articles, one by one, which his father had purchased of our hero, and place them under lock and key.In their hurry to secure their man the detectives had forgotten to examine these contraband goods, some of which had the initials of their owner’s engraved on their face.When Simmonds descended into the back parlour with the detectives, he noticed the absence of the goods from the place where he had left them, but he was by far too prudent a man to make any observation or allude in any way to the subject.“Good lad,” he murmured to himself. “Ah, he’ll make a bright man—he has cleared all away. So much the better. He’s as good as gold—that’s what he is.”The detectives remained for some time in the shop, conversing with the Israelite, who thought it just as well to be urbane and conciliatory in his manner.He was, however, at this time not at all aware of the magnitude of Peace’s depredations or the grave charge which hung over his head; neither did he know that one of the detectives hailed from Sheffield.Peace, in dealing with the Jew, had taken the precaution never to give his right name. The receiver of stolen goods, throughout his acquaintance with him, had been under the impression that he was a well-known London thief.Bandy-legged Bill, who was waiting at the corner of the street for Peace, did not know very well how to act. He saw the detectives enter the Jew’s shop. He was seriously alarmed and trembled for his friend, but he had at the same time unlimited faith in the resources of “Charlie,” as he termed him.Still he did not like to abandon him, and for a brief space of time he debated with himself as to what had best be done under the circumstances.He was half inclined to alight, enter the shop, and see how matters stood; but upon second thoughts he came to the conclusion that it would be the worst possible policy for him to leave the trap, which contained so much stolen property.After cogitating for some time he deemed it advisable to drive off without running risk of detection.And so, while the coast was clear, off he drove.Bill was very reluctant to abandon the field, but prudence dictated this course of action, and he argued that he could be of no service to Peace under any circumstances—so he drove off far away from the scene of action.And for his own as well as for his friend’s safety it was as well, perhaps, that he did so.But the detectives, after they left the Jew’s house, did not seem disposed to leave the neighbourhood. The Sheffield man was under the impression that he had seen some one in the back parlour of Simmonds’s establishment the features of whom were like those of Charles Peace.But he was by no means sure of this: he had only caught a fugitive and transient glance of the face through the dingy windows of the door; but whoever it might have been, the man in question—if there was a second person in the little parlour, which he was by no means certain of—had been spirited away in a most extraordinary manner.The two detectives walked up and down the street more than once, glancing as they passed along at the windows of the several houses, with no very satisfactory result.It was not at all likely that Mr. Peace would at this time be looking out of the window of the one in which he was ensconced.He was by far too clever a rascal for that, but the landlady of the establishment saw the officers pass and repass and described their appearance to our hero.“Ah, it’s them safe enough,” cried Peace, “they are looking for me without a doubt, and be blowed to them. My dear madam, I don’t know how to sufficiently thank you for this timely shelter. You are my good angel, my protector.”“I hope I am not doing wrong,” returned the woman, “but if I am it can’t be helped. I’m sure there is no telling who people are nowadays. My dear husband used to say so, and he was quite right—one never can tell.”“Your husband,” said Peace, in some alarm—“where is he now?”“Where is he?” cried the woman, with a shake of the head, “where, indeed? Who knows? In a happier world, let us hope.”“Ah,” said Peace—“he is dead then?”“Why, of course he is. Has been dead three years come next September.”Peace was greatly relieved when he heard that the good gentleman had been removed to a happier sphere, since it would have been rather awkward if he had presented himself and not taken the same humane view of the case that his better half had done.“Ah!” ejaculated our hero, “life is uncertain, and there is no telling how soon we may go.” Here he cast his eyes up towards the ceiling, and endeavoured to look sentimental. “The loss of a dear relative, and especially a husband, is a sad trial.”“It is,” returned the widow; “especially when one has to mourn the loss of so good a husband as mine was.”“I am pleased to hear you speak so well of him—it does you great credit,” observed Peace, in a sanctimonious manner. “By the way,” he added, “do you see those wretched men lurking about?”“No, I don’t see anything of them now,” she answered as she peered through the window curtain. “They appear to have gone.”“So much the better,” said Peace.The two detectives, not being able to see anything of the man whom they had been so industriously seeking, went into several known houses which they knew to be the haunts of thieves, but were equally unsuccessful in their search. They lingered about the neighbourhood after this for some considerable time and then took their departure, being about as wise as they were when they first entered the house in the occupation of the astute Mr. Simmonds.But Charles Peace, who was a tolerably good judge of the proceedings of detectives of every conceivable description, did not deem it advisable to sally forth just at present; he, therefore, continued in friendly discourse with the woman who had been of such essential service to him.He placed a sovereign on the table, of which he begged her acceptance; but, although she was not by any means in affluent circumstances, she declined to accept of the gratuity.Peace, however, would not take any denial, and said he should be greatly hurt and mortified if she did not permit him to prevail upon her to accept of some small recompense for services rendered.The woman was by no means mercenary. What she had done was simply a matter of kindness and humanity on her part, and she had never for a moment contemplated the matter in any other light than a natural desire on her part to assist a fallen creature who was plunged into the depths of trouble. However, after much persuasion on the part of our hero, she reluctantly pocketted the sovereign.“I should indeed be sorry if by any chance these men should find you when you leave this house,” said the widow, “and therefore I think you had better remain till after dark.”“I am afraid I am in your way,” returned the burglar.“Not at all, sir. You can have a bed and remain all night if you think it advisable to do so.”“There will be no necessity for that,” said he—“not the slightest necessity. But I tell you what you can do to serve me.”“What?”“Have you got anybody who can be trusted to go round to Mr. Simmonds?”“Dear me, yes. My little girl will go at once, if you wish it.”“Let her go, then.”“By the back way?”“Yes—that would be better.”The widow went into the passage, and called out in a loud voice the name of “Netty” once or twice.A little girl of about eleven years of age made her appearance.“Now, then, tell me what she is to do,” observed the widow.Peace slipped sixpence into the hands of the child, and told her to go to Mr. Simmonds and say he wished to speak to him.The child did as she was directed, and in a minute or so returned with the Jew.“Ah, you are safe—eh?” cried Simmonds. “Vell, you’ve done the trick cleanly, old man. Given them the slip, s’help my goodness; but you’re down us a hammer, and no mistake. I’d have been ready to have gone clean mad if anything had happened to you in my place. All the years I’ve been in business I never had a customer ‘copped’ at my establishment.”“Have they gone away do you think?” cried Peace.“Ah, I hope so—and bad luck to ’em—but I won’t say for certain. There’s no telling what gentlemen of their kidney may be up to, but I think as how you are safe. Come with me, and I’ll show you how to get clean off.”Thanking the widow for her kindness, Charles Peace went out of the back door of her residence in company with the Jew.He found himself in a narrow blind alley.The Jew led him through a labyrinth of narrrow courts, and they then emerged into a wide street. Peace had not at this time the faintest notion of where he was, but Simmonds led him into a house. In one of the rooms on the basement a group of persons were assembled.It was evidently the resort of thieves of every description, and was an establishment much after the fashion of the one to which Laura Stanbridge took Alf Purvis when he was a mere lad.The Jew appeared to be pretty well known to most of the persons who frequented this establishment, for many present spoke to him in a familiar and jocular manner.Simmonds sent a leary-looking man for a four-wheeled cab, and when the vehicle drove up to the door of the house he bade Peace jump in without further ado.This our hero did without hesitation, and then the cab was driven rapidly over the stones.
Once more we are constrained to return to the Evalina-road, for the purpose of seeing how it fares with the hero of this work.
Charles Peace had up to the present time not only escaped detection, but had managed his affairs with such success that not the faintest breath of suspicion fell upon him.
He was looked upon by his neighbours as the same easy-going, agreeable old gentleman of independent means as he had been deemed ever since the first few months of his life at Peckham.
His musical evenings were as frequent as of yore. He was seen occasionally in the garden and at the front entrance of his habitation, and appeared to be a quiet, discreet person, who to all appearance was what he professed to be—a man of thoughtful, studious habits, and the general impression was that there was no harm in him.
It is true that at times there were evidences of a storm within the house atNo.4, but this was attributable more to the irritable nature of the female residents than to the quiet and unobtrusive master of the establishment.
But Peace, during this interval of time was industriously pursuing his lawless practices. The number of burglaries that had been committed in the surrounding districts seemed perfectly incredible, but no one suspected that Mr. Thompson had any hand in them.
Peace’s house was crammed with articles of almost every conceivable description, which were, as may be easily conjectured, the produce of lawless depredations.
His two female companions must have been perfectly well aware that he was a wholesale and unscrupulous robber, although they both of them afterwards declared that they knew nothing about his numerous burglaries.
This upon the face of it appears to be altogether incredible, but it is perhaps just as well to give them the benefit of the doubt. They might have suspected, but possibly they were discreet enough to close their eyes to actual facts.
The house in the Evalina-road was at this time so crammed full of stolen goods that its occupant deemed it expedient to get rid of the greater portion of the articles.
If by any chance the place underwent an inspection by the police, there would be no possibility of Peace accounting for the possession of such a heterogeneous collection of property.
When in any difficulty he generally called into requisition his faithful comrade and ally, Bandy-legged Bill.
So one evening, when the sagacious Mr. William Rawton was engaged with a fragrant weed and a bit of music at the house in the Evalina-road, Charles Peace broached the subject.
The two women were at this time at the house of a neighbour, and Willie Ward had been sent on an errand.
“I say, Bill, old man,” observed Peace, “I am a bit lumbered up here with a lot of things which would be best out of the way. Do you see?”
“Well, I should just say I did see, and no flies,” cried Bill. “Why, Charlie, you’ve got what one might call a regular museum, a sort of old curiosity shop, stowed away in nooks and corners. It would not be particularly healthy for yer if the pleece were to take a review of all the blessed lot—not at all healthy.”
“I quite agree with you, Bill. So I’ve been thinking we had better have a clearance—get shut of the whole blooming lot, eh?”
“Right you are, guv’nor. Turn the whole blessed collection into ready money. Get as many quids as you can for them, and then snap your fingers at the blooming bobbies.”
“That’s just what I intend to do. So you see, Bill, we will, now the place is all to ourselves, set about the business at once.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just this. I’ve got two or three old hampers in the stable, and I want your assistance.”
“All right; I’m on.”
“Very well. We will at once proceed to fill the hampers, and to-morrow, please the pigs, will get them off to the East-end, to old Simmonds—he’ll give as much as anybody.”
“Don’t care a great deal about Simmonds—he’s not a square sort of chap, to my thinking.”
“It does not matter what ‘fence’ we take them to. All I want to do to-night is to get the goods ready for starting.”
Peace lighted a hand-lamp and bade his companion follow him. Then the two conveyed a number of articles to the stables, and when there they packed them up in as small a compass as possible in the hampers to which Peace had made allusion.
The greater portion of the property was safely stowed away in the hampers, which were afterwards tied down with long cord.
All this had been done in an incredibly short space of time. Then the burglar and his horsey companion sat down on the corded baskets and discussed the intended procedings of the morrow.
“Poor Tommy, my beautiful little pet, is gone!” said Peace, with something like sorrow in his tone. “I shan’t get another like him in a hurry, Bill. But it’s of no use grieving—it was to be, I suppose, and so there’s an end of that matter.”
“Ah, poor old Tommy! but lord bless you, nothing in the world would have saved him. But it ain’t of no use dwelling on that now. These precious hampers have to be got, somehow or other, to Whitechapel—that’s quite certain. There won’t be much difficulty about that ere. I’ll bring a trap round we can shove ’em in, and the rest is an easy matter. I shall be glad when we’ve got shut of them.”
“So shall I. Are you going to borrow a trap, then?”
“Ah, yes, Joe Starker will lend me one in a minute. There ain’t no manner of trouble about that. Say the word, Charlie. Tell me what time I am to be here, and it shall be done like a shot, and no flies.”
“Eight o’clock to-morrow evening will do very well, I think.”
“All right, guv’nor, eight o’clock let it be, then.”
“And drive round to the back yard, without saying a word to anyone.”
“I’m on; so be it, Charlie.”
This little matter having been thus satisfactorily arranged, Peace and the gipsy returned to the parlour.
Willie Ward had by this time returned, and he and our hero, as usual, began to play duets.
Presently the ladies of the establishment presented themselves, and a social and convivial evening was passed.
Rawton left at a little before twelve, with a promise to be there on the following evening.
Peace, of course, did not go out on a depredating excursion for that night.
Punctual to his appointment, Bandy-legged Bill drove into the back yard ofNo.4 at about a quarter before eight on the succeeding night.
Peace was ready to receive him, and the hampers were quickly lifted into the cart, whereupon the two friends proceeded at once in the direction of Whitechapel.
“We’ll try Simmonds first,” said our hero. “Cunning Isaac, as we call him, is a rapacious old scoundrel, who wants things for next door to nothing. Simmonds is worth two of him.”
“I don’t like either of them, if the truth is to be told,” cried the gipsy; “but, lord, they aint any of them worth much, as far as that is concerned. The whole biling of them are a set of bloodsuckers, but there, I dare say you will ask what’s a cove to do.”
“Yes, that’s just where it is. We can’t do without them, Bill—there aint any mistake about that. I look upon it that men and women prey upon one another like wild beasts. The ‘fence’ preys upon the ‘cracksman,’ the cracksman—well, he preys upon the public—that is, the rich public—and they in most cases have made their money out of the poor. From the lowest to the highest it is one system of cheating and robbing—that’s my view of the matter.”
“Oh, you are not far off the mark, it’s right enough,” returned Bill. “You are never so happy as when you are moralising,” he added, with a laugh.
“Ah, you may laugh,” cried Peace, “but pray tell me how many persons you know in this world as you can trust—just you answer that question.”
“Jolly few, if that’s what you mean. You may count ’em on your fingers, and not want all on ’em to do so.”
“No. I should think not.”
“But, I say, what blooming crib are yer bound for?” said the gipsy; “for we are coming to close quarters, now.”
“Oh, we will see what Simmonds says. I shall leave you to strike the bargain. Take one hamper into him, and see what he offers.”
“I tell yer what it is, Charlie, I don’t care about the job, cos why—he don’t like me, and I’ve no affection for him. You’ll do a deal better with him than what I can—so just pop down upon the old rascal, and I think I shall be able to work Isaac.”
“Oh, you prefer Isaac, do you?”
“Well, yes I do. Every man has his fancy. Some can get along with one, which perhaps another cove wouldn’t be able to work not nohow whatsoever.”
Mr. Simmonds’s establishment stood in one of the streets which ran at right angles out of the Whitechapel-road.
It was not an aristocratic-looking shop, and the immediate neighbourhood surrounding it could not be considered either cleanly or odoriferous.
Mr. Simmonds himself was not altogether a pattern of cleanliness—neither could he be considered particularly handsome. His nose was long, and his mouth was wide. In short, his features, taken altogether, would lead a superficial observer to the conclusion that he was a gentleman of the Hebrew persuasion.
Still Mr. Simmonds had contrived to drive a very profitable trade. He was very well known, and always ready to purchase goods of every conceivable description, and it was not his practice to ask impertinent questions.
He therefore drove a profitable trade.
Charles Peace was very well acquainted with him, and had had with him many business transactions.
A well-known journalist, at the time Peace carried on his lawless practices in the Evalina-road, was desirous of knowing how he disposed of his plunder. “There is more in this question,” said he, “than the police were able to discover.”
In cases of common burglary the usual course is for the thief to make his way direct to some safe “fence” and drive the best bargain he can of the receiver. But Peace was no common burglar.
The more I enquire into the life and habits of those in his establishment at Peckham, the less disposed I am to believe that Mrs. Thompson acted as a “go-between.” Certainly the boy, “Willie Ward,” was not entrusted with such delicate missions, and I am pretty certain the services of Mrs. Ward would only be resorted to when things were growing desperate.
The impression at Peckham was, that Peace had a male accomplice, a clever unscrupulous fellow like himself, and not at all dissimilar physically, but even superior to Peace himself.
This surmise on the part of the journalist in question was correct, the accomplice in question being none other than “Bandy-legged Bill.”
Upon coming in front of Mr. Simmonds’s respectable establishment Peace alighted, and without further ado took one of the hampers into the Jew’s shop.
“I am happy and proud to see you,” cried Simmonds. “Anything in my way?”
“Yes,” returned Peace. “You can look over the articles in this hamper, and see what you can afford to give for them.”
“Yesh, yesh, my tear friend, I vill do so, but business is bad and money is tight—still I’ll do my best for you.”
“I am not going to be chiselled if I can help it,” returned Peace; “so don’t think to come any of your hanky-panky tricks over me.”
“Lord bless us, how suspicious you are! S’help me goodness, I do my best for all of you, my very best. But I say just bring the things into the back parlour, there’s a good fellow. Oh, you don’t know what risks we run.”
Peace dragged the hamper into the small room at the back of the shop. The Jew then began to make a careful inspection of the articles as he drew them forth. He approved them as he did so, putting them down on the tablet of his memory at fifty per cent. less than their intrinsic value.
While thus engaged he dodged and ducked his head, every now and then peering into the front shop through the dingy and dirt-begrimed glass of the door which separated the parlour from the outer shop.
There was, of course, the usual haggling—the price the Hebrew offered was too ridiculous for Peace to accept. Then followed the expletives and oaths, without which no bargain of this description could be concluded. At length, however, Peace consented to take seventy pounds for the goods, whereupon the Jew handed down a fifty pound note and twenty sovereigns to our hero, who pocketed the same.
The bargain had hardly been concluded when two persons entered the Jew’s shop. Mr. Simmonds looked through the curtain which hung over the window of the door of the parlour, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“What’s up?” cried Peace, in some alarm.
“Two detectives,” was the quick rejoinder.
“The devil!” exclaimed our hero, looking into the shop. “And one of them——”
“Well, what?” ejaculated Simmonds.
“One of the blokes I know; and what is worse he knows me.”
“And wants you?”
Peace nodded significantly.
“Gracious! However, I would not have a customer of mine ‘copped’ in my place; no, not for the world.”
“What’s to be done,” said Peace. “Is there any means of escape? I must not be seen by the tall ones or I am a lost man.”
“Father, two gentlemen want to speak to you,” said a youth in the shop, who was Simmonds’s son.
“Fly up-stairs,” cried the Jew, “and hook it. I will keep them in conversation. Step it at once.”
Peace required no second bidding; he left the back parlour just as the Jew entered his shop.
“Your servant, gentlemen,” said he in oleaginous accents. “Vat can I do for you?”
“Have you purchased a watch to day or yesterday, bearing on its face the name of Velluming,” said one of the detectives.
“No! Haven’t purchased any watch for a week or more.”
“You are quite sure of that?”
“Oh, yes—certainly I am.”
“Wasn’t there a person in your back parlour when we entered?” said the taller of the two.
“Nobody but myself,” returned Simmonds, in a confident tone.
The detectives exchanged glances, and conversed in whispers.
“We have very good reasons for doubting your statement, Mr. Simmonds,” said one of them.
“Vell, gentlemen, I do hope you believe I wouldn’t tell you a deliberate lie. Please tell me your business.”
“If you are speaking the truth there cannot be any possible objection to your letting us search the premises.”
“But vat for? I haven’t done anything against the law?”
“No matter about that. Will you or will you not permit us to run over the premises?”
“I think it is very unbecoming of you to make such a request,” said Simmonds; “but I suppose you know your own business best. Search the house if you like.”
The two detectives entered the back parlour. Of course Charles Peace was not there. Then they passed out into the passage and began to ascend the stairs leading to the upper rooms.
“I don’t think yer acting in at all a proper manner, gentlemen,” exclained Simmonds, speaking as loud as he could, “and I must protest against such proceedings. Do you think I harbour thieves?”
“We don’tthink,” observed the detectives.
“Well, I won’t say any more, as I shall be only subjecting myself to insults,” cried the Jew. “Rachel!” he said, in continuation, calling to his wife, who was in one of the upstair rooms. “Don’t be alarmed, tear. Two strange shentlemen are coming upstairs. They won’t hurt you. Don’t be alarmed—it’s all right, they know their business, and I know mine.”
“He must have got clear off by this time, I should suppose,” muttered the Jew to himself. “If he hasn’t, vell, the Lord help him, for I can’t.”
Charles Peace, after leaving the back parlour, at once made for the topmost story of the house. In one of the back rooms he found a double dormer window. He passed through this, closed it carefully after him, and then gained the roof.
He must have considered himself hardly pressed, for after going along the slates he got into another house through the window, which he also closed after him.
The room in which he now found himself was unoccupied, but upon descending below he came across a woman, who was the landlady of the habitation. She was greatly surprised at beholding Mr. Peace, who, however, put the best face on the matter.
“My dear madam,” said he, “I am sure from your appearance that you are not one to refuse succour to a persecuted man. The police are after me, and I have contrived to elude them for the present. Will you befriend me?”
“How can I do that?”
“By letting me remain here for awhile.”
“But you may have committed some dreadful crime, and if such be the case I shall get into trouble for harbouring you.”
“Do not be in any way alarmed—I have not committed any dreadful crime. Do I look a man likely to do such a thing?”
“I can’t say you do, but appearances are often deceptive. What are you charged with?”
“Oh, a mere trifle. Deserting my wife and children. The fact is, I have been out of work, but now I am doing very well, and intend to rejoin my family. But if I am caught it will be my ruin, for my employer will, in all probability, discharge me. I will pay you handsomely for the accommodation if you will only let me remain here.”
The woman, who was naturally kind-hearted, hesitated.
“It is a most extraordinary thing you entering the house in the way you have done. I don’t know what to say about it.”
“Take pity on me. You will not refuse. I am known to some of your neighbours, who will answer for my respectability.”
“Who do you know, then?”
“Mr. Simmonds; he will tell you all about me.”
“Ah, Mr. Simmonds—eh?” returned the woman, in dubious accents.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“I know him as a near neighbour, that is all. Well, you had better come downstairs and sit in the front parlour for a time.”
“Oh, thank you kindly. You are a dear good creature. I was sure of that when I first saw you.”
“I would much prefer you going away at once.”
“So should I, if it were possible, but it is not, and you will let me remain till the coast is clear.”
“Come down into the front parlour. What will my lodgers think of me, talking to a perfect stranger in this way? Come down.”
“Ah, certainly, with the greatest pleasure.”
Peace descended, and was shown into the lady’s sitting-room.
“Now, sir,” said she, “you must make yourself as contented as possible. I cannot find it in my heart to give you up to the police. I hope and trust you have spoken the truth.”
“I swear——”
“There is no necessity to do that. I will take your word, that is sufficient.”
“Quite so. I am sure you will never regret doing this act of kindness to a poor fellow in trouble.”
“I hope I never may have cause to regret it, but you certainly are a most extraordinary sort of man, and that’s the truth.”
“It will be all right if I succeed in concealing myself so that I may avoid needless exposure. I intend to return to my family to-morrow, and then there will be an end of the business.”
While Charles Peace was concealed in the parlour of the house into which he had so unceremoniously entered, the two detectives ran through the rooms of the Jew’s habitation, but they could not discover any stranger in any of the apartments which Mr. Simmonds opened obsequiously one after the other.
The detectives saw they were at fault, and they assumed an apologetic tone, and expressed their regret at having been so troublesome, stating, at the same time, that they had a duty to perform, and that they were in search of a gentleman who was “wanted.”
The Jew’s son, who had been left in charge of the shop, was a sharp-witted, precocious young gentleman, who, like his father, had an eye to business. He thought it just as well to take the articles, one by one, which his father had purchased of our hero, and place them under lock and key.
In their hurry to secure their man the detectives had forgotten to examine these contraband goods, some of which had the initials of their owner’s engraved on their face.
When Simmonds descended into the back parlour with the detectives, he noticed the absence of the goods from the place where he had left them, but he was by far too prudent a man to make any observation or allude in any way to the subject.
“Good lad,” he murmured to himself. “Ah, he’ll make a bright man—he has cleared all away. So much the better. He’s as good as gold—that’s what he is.”
The detectives remained for some time in the shop, conversing with the Israelite, who thought it just as well to be urbane and conciliatory in his manner.
He was, however, at this time not at all aware of the magnitude of Peace’s depredations or the grave charge which hung over his head; neither did he know that one of the detectives hailed from Sheffield.
Peace, in dealing with the Jew, had taken the precaution never to give his right name. The receiver of stolen goods, throughout his acquaintance with him, had been under the impression that he was a well-known London thief.
Bandy-legged Bill, who was waiting at the corner of the street for Peace, did not know very well how to act. He saw the detectives enter the Jew’s shop. He was seriously alarmed and trembled for his friend, but he had at the same time unlimited faith in the resources of “Charlie,” as he termed him.
Still he did not like to abandon him, and for a brief space of time he debated with himself as to what had best be done under the circumstances.
He was half inclined to alight, enter the shop, and see how matters stood; but upon second thoughts he came to the conclusion that it would be the worst possible policy for him to leave the trap, which contained so much stolen property.
After cogitating for some time he deemed it advisable to drive off without running risk of detection.
And so, while the coast was clear, off he drove.
Bill was very reluctant to abandon the field, but prudence dictated this course of action, and he argued that he could be of no service to Peace under any circumstances—so he drove off far away from the scene of action.
And for his own as well as for his friend’s safety it was as well, perhaps, that he did so.
But the detectives, after they left the Jew’s house, did not seem disposed to leave the neighbourhood. The Sheffield man was under the impression that he had seen some one in the back parlour of Simmonds’s establishment the features of whom were like those of Charles Peace.
But he was by no means sure of this: he had only caught a fugitive and transient glance of the face through the dingy windows of the door; but whoever it might have been, the man in question—if there was a second person in the little parlour, which he was by no means certain of—had been spirited away in a most extraordinary manner.
The two detectives walked up and down the street more than once, glancing as they passed along at the windows of the several houses, with no very satisfactory result.
It was not at all likely that Mr. Peace would at this time be looking out of the window of the one in which he was ensconced.
He was by far too clever a rascal for that, but the landlady of the establishment saw the officers pass and repass and described their appearance to our hero.
“Ah, it’s them safe enough,” cried Peace, “they are looking for me without a doubt, and be blowed to them. My dear madam, I don’t know how to sufficiently thank you for this timely shelter. You are my good angel, my protector.”
“I hope I am not doing wrong,” returned the woman, “but if I am it can’t be helped. I’m sure there is no telling who people are nowadays. My dear husband used to say so, and he was quite right—one never can tell.”
“Your husband,” said Peace, in some alarm—“where is he now?”
“Where is he?” cried the woman, with a shake of the head, “where, indeed? Who knows? In a happier world, let us hope.”
“Ah,” said Peace—“he is dead then?”
“Why, of course he is. Has been dead three years come next September.”
Peace was greatly relieved when he heard that the good gentleman had been removed to a happier sphere, since it would have been rather awkward if he had presented himself and not taken the same humane view of the case that his better half had done.
“Ah!” ejaculated our hero, “life is uncertain, and there is no telling how soon we may go.” Here he cast his eyes up towards the ceiling, and endeavoured to look sentimental. “The loss of a dear relative, and especially a husband, is a sad trial.”
“It is,” returned the widow; “especially when one has to mourn the loss of so good a husband as mine was.”
“I am pleased to hear you speak so well of him—it does you great credit,” observed Peace, in a sanctimonious manner. “By the way,” he added, “do you see those wretched men lurking about?”
“No, I don’t see anything of them now,” she answered as she peered through the window curtain. “They appear to have gone.”
“So much the better,” said Peace.
The two detectives, not being able to see anything of the man whom they had been so industriously seeking, went into several known houses which they knew to be the haunts of thieves, but were equally unsuccessful in their search. They lingered about the neighbourhood after this for some considerable time and then took their departure, being about as wise as they were when they first entered the house in the occupation of the astute Mr. Simmonds.
But Charles Peace, who was a tolerably good judge of the proceedings of detectives of every conceivable description, did not deem it advisable to sally forth just at present; he, therefore, continued in friendly discourse with the woman who had been of such essential service to him.
He placed a sovereign on the table, of which he begged her acceptance; but, although she was not by any means in affluent circumstances, she declined to accept of the gratuity.
Peace, however, would not take any denial, and said he should be greatly hurt and mortified if she did not permit him to prevail upon her to accept of some small recompense for services rendered.
The woman was by no means mercenary. What she had done was simply a matter of kindness and humanity on her part, and she had never for a moment contemplated the matter in any other light than a natural desire on her part to assist a fallen creature who was plunged into the depths of trouble. However, after much persuasion on the part of our hero, she reluctantly pocketted the sovereign.
“I should indeed be sorry if by any chance these men should find you when you leave this house,” said the widow, “and therefore I think you had better remain till after dark.”
“I am afraid I am in your way,” returned the burglar.
“Not at all, sir. You can have a bed and remain all night if you think it advisable to do so.”
“There will be no necessity for that,” said he—“not the slightest necessity. But I tell you what you can do to serve me.”
“What?”
“Have you got anybody who can be trusted to go round to Mr. Simmonds?”
“Dear me, yes. My little girl will go at once, if you wish it.”
“Let her go, then.”
“By the back way?”
“Yes—that would be better.”
The widow went into the passage, and called out in a loud voice the name of “Netty” once or twice.
A little girl of about eleven years of age made her appearance.
“Now, then, tell me what she is to do,” observed the widow.
Peace slipped sixpence into the hands of the child, and told her to go to Mr. Simmonds and say he wished to speak to him.
The child did as she was directed, and in a minute or so returned with the Jew.
“Ah, you are safe—eh?” cried Simmonds. “Vell, you’ve done the trick cleanly, old man. Given them the slip, s’help my goodness; but you’re down us a hammer, and no mistake. I’d have been ready to have gone clean mad if anything had happened to you in my place. All the years I’ve been in business I never had a customer ‘copped’ at my establishment.”
“Have they gone away do you think?” cried Peace.
“Ah, I hope so—and bad luck to ’em—but I won’t say for certain. There’s no telling what gentlemen of their kidney may be up to, but I think as how you are safe. Come with me, and I’ll show you how to get clean off.”
Thanking the widow for her kindness, Charles Peace went out of the back door of her residence in company with the Jew.
He found himself in a narrow blind alley.
The Jew led him through a labyrinth of narrrow courts, and they then emerged into a wide street. Peace had not at this time the faintest notion of where he was, but Simmonds led him into a house. In one of the rooms on the basement a group of persons were assembled.
It was evidently the resort of thieves of every description, and was an establishment much after the fashion of the one to which Laura Stanbridge took Alf Purvis when he was a mere lad.
The Jew appeared to be pretty well known to most of the persons who frequented this establishment, for many present spoke to him in a familiar and jocular manner.
Simmonds sent a leary-looking man for a four-wheeled cab, and when the vehicle drove up to the door of the house he bade Peace jump in without further ado.
This our hero did without hesitation, and then the cab was driven rapidly over the stones.