The Mysteries of London, v. 2/4

by George W. M. Reynolds

This was evident; for the brick which covered the iron ring in the masonry of the chimney, had not been restored to its place.

"I could not have left it so!" cried Tidkins, aloud: "no—it is impossible! Some one has been here!"

With almost frantic impatience he raised the trap, and descended into the subterranean.

Entering one of the cells,—not the same whence the Rattlesnake had stolen his treasure,—he raised a stone, and then almost shrank from glancing into the hollow thus laid open.

But mastering his fears,—those fears which owned the influence of avarice far more than that of danger or of crime,—he held the lantern over the hole, and plunged his eyes into its depth.

"Safe!—all safe—by God!" he exclaimed, as four or five canvass bags met his view.

Then, in order to convince himself of the reality of the presence of his treasure, he opened the bags one after the other, and feasted his sight upon their glittering contents.

"It can hardly be Banks who has been here," he mused to himself, as he restored the bags to their place of concealment, and then rolled the stone back into its setting: "nothing could escape the keenness of his scent! He would have pulled up all the pavement sooner than have missed what he came to look for. And then, too, he is not the man to leave the brick out of its place, so as to show the secret of the stone-trap to any other curious intruder that might find his way here. No—no: Master Banks would pay a second and a third visit to this place, if he felt sure of finding any thing concealed here; and he would leave every thing close and snug after each search. But some one has been here! Unless—and I might have done such a thing as to forget to replace the brick,—I might have done so;—and yet it is barely possible!" continued Tidkins, in deep perplexity, and almost as much alarmed as Robinson Crusoe was upon discovering the print of the human foot upon the sand of his island. "Then there is that damp mud, too—and the door that was open—and the lock that has been tampered with! But suppose the mud came from my own shoes the last time I was here? the place is very damp—and it mayn't have got dry. It might also have been myself that left the door open;—and as for the lock—it is an old one, and may begin to work badly. Besides—I remember—the last time I was here, I was in a deuce of a hurry: it was just before I went down to Banks's to see him settle that job with Kate Wilmot. So, after all—my fears may be all idle and vain! However, I shall send for Banks presently, when the Buffer comes again; and I'll precious soon tell by his sneaking old face whether he has been here, or not, during my absence!"

Thus reasoning against the feasibility of his fears,—as men often do in cases of doubt and uncertainty, and when they are anxious to persuade themselves of the groundlessness of their alarms,—Tidkins left the subterranean, and returned to his chamber, where he immediately went to bed.

But his fears were well founded: some one had visited the subterranean during the hours while he himself was occupied in escaping from Coldbath Fields' Prison.