The "Streets of London" was being played at the Princess's Theatre, and one evening I went to have a look at the piece. Who should I see in the stalls, arrayed in evening-costume, but the man I met in Fleet-street. "This time," I said to myself, "you shall not escape. If nothing comes of it there may be some amusement." I kept well in the background. He still wore the blue spectacles, and there was no moustache, but when he took the glasses off to wipe them, there was no doubt any longer in my mind as to the strong resemblance. "The man must be his brother," I thought. After the performance he went to the nearest public-house and had a soda and brandy, and on coming out he hailed a hansom and left. I was in readiness, and followed in another cab. It was a long ride, and we did not stop until we were quite in the centre of the East-end. His cab had been drawn up at a large corner public-house, blazing with light, and I saw him discharge the cabman and enter.
It was quite evident he was at home here, for he lifted the lid of the counter and went into the parlour. Did my eyes deceive me? As large as life behind the counter stood Jessop, superintending the drawing of beer and measuring out gin, and, if my eyes did not deceive me, the "Red Doctor" was enjoying a glass of grog in the sanctum beyond. My excitement knew no bounds. I did not know well what to think! A faint glimmering of the fraud began to steal into my mind. I had dangerous men to deal with, and must act cautiously. If the agent's wife would only appear on the scene the quartet would be complete; and sure enough, just as the house was being shut up, she came down to the bar from the upstairs regions.
Next day I told all these particulars to a staunch friend, and together we paid a visit to the Norwood Cemetery, and beheld the grave with a modest stone at its head, "Sacred to the Memory of," &c., but if I had not made a grievous error, the clergyman who had conducted the service had not prayed over the right man. It was a deep plot, and had been very successful. The question arose now, how was I to benefit by the discovery? After much cogitation my friend and I decided to beard the lion in his den, and one evening when Jessop was out and the "Red Doctor" not visible we entered and addressed my agent by his name. He said we were mistaken, but when we enquired about the health of his wife, Mr. Jessop, and the "Red Doctor," he saw that he was discovered, and the game was up. He asked us into his parlour, and had the impudence to become jocular over the infernal game.
"I was hard up," he said, "and was obliged to stand to win both ways over that Derby."
My money had been booked to Jessop, who would have received my money to pay with if the horse had not won. The timely reputed death of the agent saved all explanation.
"Who was the man buried?" I asked.
"Nobody! Only some stones! I saw that everything was conducted properly myself, and often run up to have a look at the grave."
"But how did you get the certificate?"
"The 'Red Doctor' managed that!"