Then came her time of trial.
The man with whom she was associated was a thief, a burglar, and more than that—and she knew it.
He was a murderer.
But what could she do? It was this man upon whom she was dependent for a subsistence—it was this man who had committed murder once, and whom she knew would not hesitate to commit it again.
So she helped to get rid of the goods which were brought by his nightly marauds, and like other sensible people who are in a mess, she held her peace.
But when Peace and this housekeeper had got to the new home at Peckham, “a cloud came o’er the scene,” and the cloud was a woman.
This “cloud” took up her residence in the house of Mr. Peace—otherwise “Johnson,” by which latter cognomen he was well known—and then commenced the beginning of the end.
The first victim of Peace’s duplicity dared not speak, and the second admirer of him dared not—so between the rivals the burglar had a fair chance of bidding for favouritism.
But when the last “throw” came from the dice-box of criminal ingenuity and the thrower lost, there were left in the house in Peckham a couple of rivals.
One, the latest comer, “realised,” and the older and much-injured one gave information which resulted in the disclosures which had now been made public.