CHAPTERCXXXV.SOME PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A LONDON THIEF.Alf Purvis, alias Mr. Algernon Sutherland, had, with the exception of our hero, become one of the most daring of metropolitan thieves. His genteel appearance and engaging manners were of essential service to him in carrying on his nefarious practices.In this respect he had the advantage of Peace; but with all these qualities he was not nearly so cunning or artful as our hero.Nevertheless, Mr. Sutherland was, in his own particular sphere, a young gentleman of note and mark, who was greatly admired and envied by villains of coarser type with whom he was wont to associate.He was known by the cognomen of the “Dandy,” in consequence of his fashionable attire and finicking ways.A more audacious, unscrupulous young scoundrel it would not be easy to find. As far as pocket-picking was concerned he was a sort of prodigy; but he did not confine his attention to this branch of the profession, as he termed it; he had at times recourse to other means to replenish his exchequer, and of late he had hit upon what he deemed a most ingenious scheme to furnish him with the means of indulging in his extravagant mode of living.The reader will doubtless remember the “Smoucher,” whose acquaintance he made at the thieves’ haunt in Whitechapel.The “Smoucher,” as he was termed by his familiars, was an adept in penmanship, and had the faculty of imitating the handwriting of any person in a manner which was at once remarkable and surprising.It occurred to Mr. Sutherland that he might make very good use of the Smoucher’s ability, and he at once put into practice a scheme he had pondered over for a considerable period.Mr. Sutherland had an extensive circle of acquaintances, and, strange as it may appear, he did, by some means or another, contrive to push himself into certain coteries of respectable society, one reason for this being attributable to the fact that he belonged to one or more gambling clubs in the metropolis.At these he picked up all sorts of acquaintances, good, bad, and indifferent. He picked up also a vast amount of information at these establishments which he made serve his purpose in many ways.He occasionally lost large sums of money at the gaming table, which had a certain amount of fascination for him, so that he was a frequent visitor to these “hells.” The term is an old one, but it is remarkably expressive.In the course of play he became possessed of cheques for both large and small amounts, and was, as a natural consequence, in a short space of time very well acquainted with the signatures of persons of wealth and position.When aground for money, Mr. Sutherland sought the assistance of the Smoucher.That worthy performed the secret of removing the handwriting on the body of the cheque by some chemicals.He also removed one or more of the figures, and then wrote in figures to perhaps ten times the amount for which the cheque had been originally drawn.Mr. Sutherland paid his confederate handsomely for this little favour, and then changed the cheque.He had done this on very many occasions, and, strange to say, had escaped detection. But the game was a risky one, and it was only under pressing circumstances that he had recourse to this species of fraud; but he was so extravagant, so reckless in respect to money matters, that despite the large sums he gained by his robberies, he was, like most of his compeers, continually in need of a fresh supply of coin.It was on one of those occasions that Sutherland or Purvis endeavoured to put into practice a robbery on a much more extensive scale than he had as yet attempted. He was not aware at this time that suspicion had been aroused, and that the detectives were at work to run him to earth.He held a cheque payable at the Saltwich bank. It was for forty pounds odd. This he took to the Smoucher, who, with his accustomed skill, took out the handwriting, and substituted in its stead four hundred pounds instead of the forty.It was so admirably done that no one could detect the alteration, and Mr. Sutherland, who knew perfectly well that the drawer of the cheque had a large balance at the bank in question, hastened down to Saltwich with the altered cheque. He had for his companion the unscrupulous scoundrel, “The Cracksman,” as he was termed. This personage has already been introduced to the reader.Sutherland and his accomplice put themselves into the train and booked to the nearest station for Saltwich.Sutherland was to present the cheque while the Cracksman kept watch and ward outside.When they arrived at their destination Mr. Sutherland made at once for the bank. He was fashionably attired was of aristocratic appearance, and had all the ease and self-possession of a person who was accustomed to move in good society. And he had the audacity of the old gentleman himself.He walked into the bank with the greatest possible assurance and presented his cheque, which was paid without a moment’s hesitation.He pocketed the money and met the Cracksman at an appointed spot some distance down the road.“It’s all right—got the browns,” said Mr. Sutherland. “We had better not be seen walking together. You make for the station as soon as you see me turn down Hagget’s-lane. I’ll wait for you at the station. Do you understand?”“All right, Dandy. Best not be seen together till we are out of the wood. All right, I’m fly.”Sutherland walked rapidly on till he reached the lane in question.He had not gone very far down this when he was accosted by a stranger.“You have paid a visit to the bank at Saltwich, I believe?” said the latter.“What business is it of yours whether I have or not?” returned Mr. Sutherland.“I ask you a simple question, and I must insist upon an answer. Have you been to the bank?”“If I have, what is it to you?”“You presented a cheque drawn by Mr. Leathside, and the cheque was paid?”“Upon my word, your insolence is most remarkable. What have you to do with my business transactions? Stand aside, and let me pass.”“You will have to accompany me. I arrest you upon the charge of obtaining money under false pretences,” returned the stranger. “It is of no use you attempting to carry the matter off with a high hand, Mr. Sutherland; you are my prisoner,” observed the detective, for such he was. “You are my prisoner, and will have to answer the charge preferred against you.”As he uttered these last words he placed his hand on the Dandy’s shoulder.“Confound your impudence!” exclaimed the latter. “If you attempt to detain me, I’ll lay you flat in a brace of shakes.”“You had better go quietly. If you resist it will be all the worse for you. I am a detective.”“What do I care for that? You don’t suppose that I am in fear of a detective.”“You had better go quietly. If you are innocent, you have your remedy; but once more I have to inform you that you will have to go with me.”“Upon my word, sir, I am astounded at your impudence. Arrested, and for what, I pray?”“I have already told you. For obtaining money under false pretences—for forgery. Come, Mr. Sutherland, don’t attempt to deceive me, for that you will find to be hopeless. I have a warrant for your apprehension. You are my prisoner.”“Prisoner be hanged. If you attempt to molest me I’ll give you the soundest thrashing you ever had in your life.”The detective made no reply, he only smiled.Sutherland rushed past him and took to his heels, but the officer gave chase and proved that he was as fleet of foot as the young fugitive, whom he overtook, tripped up, and then seized with a firm grip.The Dandy by this time was duly impressed with the danger of his position. He struggled most desperately to escape from the clutch of the officer, but found all his efforts unavailing.“You are a foolish young man,” cried the detective, “and are only making matters worse by this violence, which will not serve your purpose.”“Unhand me—let me go,” said the Dandy.“Not if I know it,” returned the other.Sutherland shouted out for assistance, and in a few seconds the Cracksman came upon the scene.“Have at him,” cried Sutherland. “Polish him off if you have any care for me.”With a yell of indignation the Cracksman precipitated himself upon the officer, who was probably astounded at the strength and savage ferocity displayed by his athletic assailant.The struggle was a short but desperate one. The Cracksman threw the detective, and when he was down pinned him to the earth with his knee upon his chest.The Dandy laughed. Escape seemed certain. The officer of the law was at the mercy of the two thieves.It is not possible to say how the conflict would have ended, but assuredly it would have not been in favour of the detective had not another actor arrived on the stage.The noise of a horse’s hoofs were heard on the hard road, and in a moment or so a farmer drew the reins of his champing steed.“What be this?” he ejaculated. “Two upon one—that beant the right thing. Look here, you ugly varmint, leave go of your man. Do you hear?”This last observation was addressed to the Cracksman, who, in reply to the same, uttered an imprecation, at the same time pressing his knee more firmly on the officer’s chest.“If ee beant disposed to take heed of words, maybe blows will suit ee better,” cried Ashbrook, for such the newcomer proved to be.The speaker whirled round his riding whip, and with the butt end of this he dealt a terrific blow on the side of the head of the Cracksman, who howled with pain.“Just you let ’im go, or maybe I shall give ee a crack on the crown as’ll knock ee silly.”The Cracksman sprang to his feet, and at once made at the farmer, whom he endeavoured to pull from his horse.But Ashbrook rained such a shower of blows on the head and shoulders of his brutal assailant, that the latter, blinded with the blood that flowed from the wounds, and staggering from the effects of the punishment he had received, like a coward and bully as he was, turned tail, and took to his heels.Mr. Sutherland, seeing that the odds were against him, followed the Cracksman.“He’ll get clear off,” cried the detective. “He can run like an antelope.”“Who do ee want, then?” inquired the farmer.“The young un, the swell cove.”“I’ll ketch him,” cried Ashbrook, “please the pigs,” and he forthwith put spurs to his horse and galloped after the fugitives.Of course the Dandy ran his hardest, but he was soon overtaken by the horseman.“Ye beant a goin’ to gi’ us the slip, ye circumwenting young vagabond. Not if I know it,” cried the farmer, as he came up with the runaway. “Hold hard, you scoundrel. The game is up, and so surrender.”“I’ll have my revenge upon you some time or another,” said Sutherland. “What business had you to show your ugly mug here?”“Don’t ee gi’ me any more of your cheek. If ee do, I’ll spoil your beauty for the next three months at the very least.”And with these words the farmer rode full at the fugitive, whom he collared and dragged along for some distance.“You will have to answer for this. I shall bring an action against you for assault and battery,” cried the Dandy.“Ah! oh! it be you, Mister Fortescue—be it? Glad we ha’ met. So, my beauty, you are run to earth—eh? Don’t ee think to get away ’cause you see the ’pleece want ee, and what is more I want the ’pleece to ha’ ee, so it be no manner of yoose yer strivin’ to get clear off. Hilloa there, I’ve cotched ’im,” cried Ashbrook, shouting out at the top of his voice to the detective.”Mr. Sutherland strove in vain to slip out of the hands of the farmer, who was altogether too strong for him.Panting and perspiring from every pore, the detective came up with the runaway, and while the farmer held him the officer clapped on his wrists a pair of handcuffs, and made him his prisoner once more. He had now no chance of making his escape, and was therefore fain to submit quietly.“What be going to do wi’ him?” inquired Ashbrook.“Take him before a magistrate,” was the prompt answer.“Ah, that be best. What be he charged wi’?”“With forgery.”“Oh, that be all, eh?”“Yes, and quite enough too. I am greatly beholden to you, Mr. Ashbrook, for the service you have rendered me, for without your assistance I should have hardly known what to have done.”“You’re quite welcome, Todd, quite welcome. I be glad I coom up in the nick of time, seeing as how it might ha’ gone hard wi’ ee. But ye’re a brave fellow and stuck to your man like a Briton, and I shall just let un know how gallantly ye behaved.”“I am sure I dont deserve this praise. I merely strove to do my duty.”“An ye’ve done it right well. As to this young varmint the sooner he’s lagged the better, for he be a rank bad un.”“Do you know him, sir?”“Know him—I should think I did. He passed himself off as a gentleman, and I like a fool believed him, but we won’t enter upon that now, Todd; ye’ve got yer man—that be enough for both on us. Where be ee goin’ to tek un to?”“To Squire Kensett’s.”“Aye, lad, that be the best thing to do.”Mr. Todd marched off with his prisoner, and Ashbrook promised to follow on to the house of the magistrate.
Alf Purvis, alias Mr. Algernon Sutherland, had, with the exception of our hero, become one of the most daring of metropolitan thieves. His genteel appearance and engaging manners were of essential service to him in carrying on his nefarious practices.
In this respect he had the advantage of Peace; but with all these qualities he was not nearly so cunning or artful as our hero.
Nevertheless, Mr. Sutherland was, in his own particular sphere, a young gentleman of note and mark, who was greatly admired and envied by villains of coarser type with whom he was wont to associate.
He was known by the cognomen of the “Dandy,” in consequence of his fashionable attire and finicking ways.
A more audacious, unscrupulous young scoundrel it would not be easy to find. As far as pocket-picking was concerned he was a sort of prodigy; but he did not confine his attention to this branch of the profession, as he termed it; he had at times recourse to other means to replenish his exchequer, and of late he had hit upon what he deemed a most ingenious scheme to furnish him with the means of indulging in his extravagant mode of living.
The reader will doubtless remember the “Smoucher,” whose acquaintance he made at the thieves’ haunt in Whitechapel.
The “Smoucher,” as he was termed by his familiars, was an adept in penmanship, and had the faculty of imitating the handwriting of any person in a manner which was at once remarkable and surprising.
It occurred to Mr. Sutherland that he might make very good use of the Smoucher’s ability, and he at once put into practice a scheme he had pondered over for a considerable period.
Mr. Sutherland had an extensive circle of acquaintances, and, strange as it may appear, he did, by some means or another, contrive to push himself into certain coteries of respectable society, one reason for this being attributable to the fact that he belonged to one or more gambling clubs in the metropolis.
At these he picked up all sorts of acquaintances, good, bad, and indifferent. He picked up also a vast amount of information at these establishments which he made serve his purpose in many ways.
He occasionally lost large sums of money at the gaming table, which had a certain amount of fascination for him, so that he was a frequent visitor to these “hells.” The term is an old one, but it is remarkably expressive.
In the course of play he became possessed of cheques for both large and small amounts, and was, as a natural consequence, in a short space of time very well acquainted with the signatures of persons of wealth and position.
When aground for money, Mr. Sutherland sought the assistance of the Smoucher.
That worthy performed the secret of removing the handwriting on the body of the cheque by some chemicals.
He also removed one or more of the figures, and then wrote in figures to perhaps ten times the amount for which the cheque had been originally drawn.
Mr. Sutherland paid his confederate handsomely for this little favour, and then changed the cheque.
He had done this on very many occasions, and, strange to say, had escaped detection. But the game was a risky one, and it was only under pressing circumstances that he had recourse to this species of fraud; but he was so extravagant, so reckless in respect to money matters, that despite the large sums he gained by his robberies, he was, like most of his compeers, continually in need of a fresh supply of coin.
It was on one of those occasions that Sutherland or Purvis endeavoured to put into practice a robbery on a much more extensive scale than he had as yet attempted. He was not aware at this time that suspicion had been aroused, and that the detectives were at work to run him to earth.
He held a cheque payable at the Saltwich bank. It was for forty pounds odd. This he took to the Smoucher, who, with his accustomed skill, took out the handwriting, and substituted in its stead four hundred pounds instead of the forty.
It was so admirably done that no one could detect the alteration, and Mr. Sutherland, who knew perfectly well that the drawer of the cheque had a large balance at the bank in question, hastened down to Saltwich with the altered cheque. He had for his companion the unscrupulous scoundrel, “The Cracksman,” as he was termed. This personage has already been introduced to the reader.
Sutherland and his accomplice put themselves into the train and booked to the nearest station for Saltwich.
Sutherland was to present the cheque while the Cracksman kept watch and ward outside.
When they arrived at their destination Mr. Sutherland made at once for the bank. He was fashionably attired was of aristocratic appearance, and had all the ease and self-possession of a person who was accustomed to move in good society. And he had the audacity of the old gentleman himself.
He walked into the bank with the greatest possible assurance and presented his cheque, which was paid without a moment’s hesitation.
He pocketed the money and met the Cracksman at an appointed spot some distance down the road.
“It’s all right—got the browns,” said Mr. Sutherland. “We had better not be seen walking together. You make for the station as soon as you see me turn down Hagget’s-lane. I’ll wait for you at the station. Do you understand?”
“All right, Dandy. Best not be seen together till we are out of the wood. All right, I’m fly.”
Sutherland walked rapidly on till he reached the lane in question.
He had not gone very far down this when he was accosted by a stranger.
“You have paid a visit to the bank at Saltwich, I believe?” said the latter.
“What business is it of yours whether I have or not?” returned Mr. Sutherland.
“I ask you a simple question, and I must insist upon an answer. Have you been to the bank?”
“If I have, what is it to you?”
“You presented a cheque drawn by Mr. Leathside, and the cheque was paid?”
“Upon my word, your insolence is most remarkable. What have you to do with my business transactions? Stand aside, and let me pass.”
“You will have to accompany me. I arrest you upon the charge of obtaining money under false pretences,” returned the stranger. “It is of no use you attempting to carry the matter off with a high hand, Mr. Sutherland; you are my prisoner,” observed the detective, for such he was. “You are my prisoner, and will have to answer the charge preferred against you.”
As he uttered these last words he placed his hand on the Dandy’s shoulder.
“Confound your impudence!” exclaimed the latter. “If you attempt to detain me, I’ll lay you flat in a brace of shakes.”
“You had better go quietly. If you resist it will be all the worse for you. I am a detective.”
“What do I care for that? You don’t suppose that I am in fear of a detective.”
“You had better go quietly. If you are innocent, you have your remedy; but once more I have to inform you that you will have to go with me.”
“Upon my word, sir, I am astounded at your impudence. Arrested, and for what, I pray?”
“I have already told you. For obtaining money under false pretences—for forgery. Come, Mr. Sutherland, don’t attempt to deceive me, for that you will find to be hopeless. I have a warrant for your apprehension. You are my prisoner.”
“Prisoner be hanged. If you attempt to molest me I’ll give you the soundest thrashing you ever had in your life.”
The detective made no reply, he only smiled.
Sutherland rushed past him and took to his heels, but the officer gave chase and proved that he was as fleet of foot as the young fugitive, whom he overtook, tripped up, and then seized with a firm grip.
The Dandy by this time was duly impressed with the danger of his position. He struggled most desperately to escape from the clutch of the officer, but found all his efforts unavailing.
“You are a foolish young man,” cried the detective, “and are only making matters worse by this violence, which will not serve your purpose.”
“Unhand me—let me go,” said the Dandy.
“Not if I know it,” returned the other.
Sutherland shouted out for assistance, and in a few seconds the Cracksman came upon the scene.
“Have at him,” cried Sutherland. “Polish him off if you have any care for me.”
With a yell of indignation the Cracksman precipitated himself upon the officer, who was probably astounded at the strength and savage ferocity displayed by his athletic assailant.
The struggle was a short but desperate one. The Cracksman threw the detective, and when he was down pinned him to the earth with his knee upon his chest.
The Dandy laughed. Escape seemed certain. The officer of the law was at the mercy of the two thieves.
It is not possible to say how the conflict would have ended, but assuredly it would have not been in favour of the detective had not another actor arrived on the stage.
The noise of a horse’s hoofs were heard on the hard road, and in a moment or so a farmer drew the reins of his champing steed.
“What be this?” he ejaculated. “Two upon one—that beant the right thing. Look here, you ugly varmint, leave go of your man. Do you hear?”
This last observation was addressed to the Cracksman, who, in reply to the same, uttered an imprecation, at the same time pressing his knee more firmly on the officer’s chest.
“If ee beant disposed to take heed of words, maybe blows will suit ee better,” cried Ashbrook, for such the newcomer proved to be.
The speaker whirled round his riding whip, and with the butt end of this he dealt a terrific blow on the side of the head of the Cracksman, who howled with pain.
“Just you let ’im go, or maybe I shall give ee a crack on the crown as’ll knock ee silly.”
The Cracksman sprang to his feet, and at once made at the farmer, whom he endeavoured to pull from his horse.
But Ashbrook rained such a shower of blows on the head and shoulders of his brutal assailant, that the latter, blinded with the blood that flowed from the wounds, and staggering from the effects of the punishment he had received, like a coward and bully as he was, turned tail, and took to his heels.
Mr. Sutherland, seeing that the odds were against him, followed the Cracksman.
“He’ll get clear off,” cried the detective. “He can run like an antelope.”
“Who do ee want, then?” inquired the farmer.
“The young un, the swell cove.”
“I’ll ketch him,” cried Ashbrook, “please the pigs,” and he forthwith put spurs to his horse and galloped after the fugitives.
Of course the Dandy ran his hardest, but he was soon overtaken by the horseman.
“Ye beant a goin’ to gi’ us the slip, ye circumwenting young vagabond. Not if I know it,” cried the farmer, as he came up with the runaway. “Hold hard, you scoundrel. The game is up, and so surrender.”
“I’ll have my revenge upon you some time or another,” said Sutherland. “What business had you to show your ugly mug here?”
“Don’t ee gi’ me any more of your cheek. If ee do, I’ll spoil your beauty for the next three months at the very least.”
And with these words the farmer rode full at the fugitive, whom he collared and dragged along for some distance.
“You will have to answer for this. I shall bring an action against you for assault and battery,” cried the Dandy.
“Ah! oh! it be you, Mister Fortescue—be it? Glad we ha’ met. So, my beauty, you are run to earth—eh? Don’t ee think to get away ’cause you see the ’pleece want ee, and what is more I want the ’pleece to ha’ ee, so it be no manner of yoose yer strivin’ to get clear off. Hilloa there, I’ve cotched ’im,” cried Ashbrook, shouting out at the top of his voice to the detective.”
Mr. Sutherland strove in vain to slip out of the hands of the farmer, who was altogether too strong for him.
Panting and perspiring from every pore, the detective came up with the runaway, and while the farmer held him the officer clapped on his wrists a pair of handcuffs, and made him his prisoner once more. He had now no chance of making his escape, and was therefore fain to submit quietly.
“What be going to do wi’ him?” inquired Ashbrook.
“Take him before a magistrate,” was the prompt answer.
“Ah, that be best. What be he charged wi’?”
“With forgery.”
“Oh, that be all, eh?”
“Yes, and quite enough too. I am greatly beholden to you, Mr. Ashbrook, for the service you have rendered me, for without your assistance I should have hardly known what to have done.”
“You’re quite welcome, Todd, quite welcome. I be glad I coom up in the nick of time, seeing as how it might ha’ gone hard wi’ ee. But ye’re a brave fellow and stuck to your man like a Briton, and I shall just let un know how gallantly ye behaved.”
“I am sure I dont deserve this praise. I merely strove to do my duty.”
“An ye’ve done it right well. As to this young varmint the sooner he’s lagged the better, for he be a rank bad un.”
“Do you know him, sir?”
“Know him—I should think I did. He passed himself off as a gentleman, and I like a fool believed him, but we won’t enter upon that now, Todd; ye’ve got yer man—that be enough for both on us. Where be ee goin’ to tek un to?”
“To Squire Kensett’s.”
“Aye, lad, that be the best thing to do.”
Mr. Todd marched off with his prisoner, and Ashbrook promised to follow on to the house of the magistrate.