“Well, I think so, but that don’t matter. Hold your row.”
The Irishwoman began uttering a series of anathemas against the speaker and lawless persons in general, when a turnkey took her by the elbow, and conducted her away from the scene, telling her, as he did so, that they had had quite enough of her for that day.
Everybody was greatly relieved when she had gone, and the conversation was carried on between the prisoners and their friends without any further interruption.
When the time had expired, accorded to visits of this character, Bill Rawton and Mrs. Peace took leave of our hero, and went sadly on their way home.
For the next few days Peace occupied himself in writing letters, and having interviews with his lawyer, for the purpose of preparing his defence.
Some of his letters were literary curiosities, and as a sample of them we give the reader a faithful verbatim copy of some he addressed to his friend, Mr. Brion.
We have, in the course of this work, made allusions to the inventions of the hero, and it has been pretty generally admitted by those who are competent judges that these were by no means of a contemptible character.
His partner in these inventions was a Mr. Brion, who was a near neighbour of Peace’s.
This person was under the full impression at the time that our hero was a respectable gentleman, who was possessed of independent means, and he was never more surprised in his life than when he learnt the real character of the man with whom he had been dealing.
After Peace’s conviction for the attempted burglary and attack on Police-constable Robinson, Mr. Brion, of Peckham, made the following statement:—