When her toilet was finished, she kissed her gentle-hearted daughter previous to leaving her (for it was not fit, she said, that young girls should visit such places), and bidding her dry up her tears, for that all would yet be right, she hastened down the stairs, and in a minute afterwards she was on her way, in company with the messenger, towards Bow-street station-house.
The reader must not do poor Mr. Sandboys the injustice to imagine that he had so far forgotten himself as to have made a pillow of one of the metropolitan kerb-stones. Nor was he, at the time referred to, the temporary tenant of one of the Bow-street police cells; for that much maligned gentleman, far from being then in “durance vile,” was still enjoying a disjointed kind of nap in the corner of the Mile-end omnibus.
Let us explain.
The flower-seller, immediately on handling the discarded inexpressibles of Mr. Christopher Sandboys, had discovered that one of the pockets was not wholly empty; and though he was sufficiently alive to the impositions occasionally practised upon members of his fraternity by coachmen, grooms, footmen, and others, to be well aware that articles—especially buttons and pieces of silver paper—were frequently inserted in the fob of cast-off pantaloons, with the view of leading them to imagine that either some notes or coin had been accidentally left in the garments by their late innocent possessors, and so inducing them to give a higher sum for the articles than they were really worth—the flower-seller was, nevertheless, we say, too fully satisfied of the thorough rusticity and consequent simplicity of Mrs. and Miss Sandboys, to believe that they could be capable of any such trick. The hawker, too, was clever tradesman enough to lead Mrs. Sandboys to suppose that he was in no way anxious to become the purchaser of the articles offered to him; and he was particularly careful, as he turned the garments over and over to examine them, never to allow either of the pockets to fall under the notice of Mrs. Sandboys.
As soon as the bargain was settled, and the street-seller of flowers had got fairly out of sight of the house, he was joined by the female who usually accompanied him on his rounds, and of whose services he occasionally availed himself when any feminine article of dress was proffered for exchange. To her the hawker did not hesitate to make known his impression that he had got a “prize.” Accordingly, the two retired up the first court they came to on their way from the house, to examine what it was that the pockets really contained. The pocket-book was soon had out—each compartment being carefully searched—and when the roll of notes was found, their glee knew no bounds; but the woman, who acted as interpreter on the occasion—the man himself being unable to read—was perhaps even more delighted when she discovered the certificate of Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys’ marriage at Lorton Vale Church, in Cumberland; for, though not attaching a particularly high moral value to the hymeneal ceremony, she thought, knowing the prejudices of society in this respect, that the possession of such a document might prove of some little service to her on some future occasion. When, therefore, the two came to divide the proceeds of their good fortune, the lady stipulated that the marriage certificate should be hers, and that in consideration of this, she said her mate might take three of the notes, and she would be satisfied with two. This appeared so advantageous an arrangement to the gentleman, that, caring nothing for the possession of the “lines,” he immediately closed with the offer.
The arrangement, however, was far from being so advantageous as it appeared; for the lady, on proceeding to divide the treasure, availed herself of her “mate’s” want of education, so as, while giving him the greater number of notes, to retain for herself those of the higher value. Accordingly she handed him over three fives out of the forty, keeping a twenty and a five for her own portion. It was then settled between them that the man should proceed to the Old Exchange and dispose of the contents of his bag, while his partner should return home and get a bit of “summut particular good” against his arrival.
The sense of being the possessor of so large a sum of money, was too great a temptation for the hawker’s slender sobriety to withstand; while the treasure remained in his pocket, he could hardly assure himself of its worth, for people of his grade in life have generally an utter want of faith in the value of what appears to them to be nothing more than a strip of silver paper. Besides, he thought it would be prudent to “run for gold” as soon as possible, for he well knew that the current coin of the realm, unlike bank notes, bore no numbers by which one sovereign or shilling could be distinguished from another.
A variety of circumstances, therefore, conspired to lead the man into the first public-house he came to. Here he entered the taproom, and placing his basket of flowers on the seat beside him, called for a pint of “dog’s nose”—a combination of gin and beer, to which the gentleman was particularly partial.
This had the effect of rendering the hawker indisposed for prosecuting his journey to Houndsditch. What was the use, he began to ask himself, of his going all that way to sell a few rags, when he didn’t want for a pound or two? Accordingly, as the liquor got to make him feel more and more careless, he commenced tossing and raffling away the remaining flowers in his basket, among such as entered the taproom during his stay there; and while the gambling was going on, he partook of a second and a third quantum of his favourite potion, so that, by the time he had got rid of all his plants, he felt inclined to enjoy himself, and disposed to go anywhere but home. Still, however, he entertained some little difficulty respecting his costume, which certainly was not fitted for holiday-making, for, like the rest of the old clothes’ dealers, he was habited in his worst, with the view of attending the Houndsditch Exchange at the close of his day’s labours; and as he ran over to himself the several places of amusement that he should like to visit, he debated in his own mind as to what he should do for a “change.” To return home and put on his brown Petersham coat and bright “yellow kingsman” neckerchief, that he delighted to sport in Battersea Fields on a Sunday, was to go through a greater amount of exertion, at that precise moment, than he was inclined to undertake; and as he discussed within himself the several other modes of supplying his deficiency, it struck him that he had swopped a cactus that morning with a lady up in Clarendon Square for a “very tidy Pallytott,” and “these,” as he justly observed, “with the pair of breeches as he took with the pocket-book in ’em, would turn him out fit even for the ‘Heagle.’” Accordingly, he emptied the contents of his clothes-bag on one of the tables, and having selected therefrom such articles as he thought would suit him for the occasion, he proceeded at once, amid the laughter of all present, to indue himself with the garments; then having obtained permission of the landlord to leave the basket and bag in his charge for awhile, the hawker sallied forth, determined, like the quondam possessor of the trowsers he then wore, upon “enjoying himself.”