At regular intervals throughout the night one of the warders comes round and looks into each cell.
By placing the bull’s-eye of his lantern against the glass of the window, and peeping through the spy-hole in the door, he can see plainly enough if a man is in bed or not.
Many a time was Peace awoke with the sudden flash of the bull’s-eye upon his face.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
GILES CHUDLEY IN PRISON.
Giles Chudley had ample funds at his disposal, and he told the sagacious Mr. Slapperton not to spare any expense in preparing his defence and securing the services of a clever counsel to conduct his case when the trial came on.
Mr. Slapperton had several interviews with the prisoner after his committal, and in common with many others was at a loss to account for the amount of money he had in his possession.
Some averred that Chudley had rich relations, who had come forward handsomely in the hour of need.
He had friends—that is quite certain, but they were not related to him. The reader will remember that at the time of Chudley’s capture there were two strangers in the parlour of the “Lord Cornwallis.” One was a young swell, the other a broad-shouldered, square-headed man.
The young swell was none other than the boy Alf Purvis, who now assumed all the airs and graces of a fashionable young gentleman, and who, moreover, was one of the most accomplished pickpockets in London. The other, the man with the broad shoulders, was the London “cracksman,” who was introduced to the reader when Laura Stanbridge and young Purvis paid a visit to that delectable establishment known as a thieves’ haunt in Little Mint-street, Whitechapel.