Old Thurles was delighted at this, and spoke too freely as to what he would do. Picknell was either in the room at the time when the merchant uttered his threats, or—as I should say was more likely—he listened and skulked till he found out enough to give him his cue. He saw at once how, if the young man had committed forgery, the documents proving his guilt would be a valuable property, and he determined to get them into his possession. But it was not easy to do this and keep suspicion from himself. If stolen from the safe in any ordinary manner and during the day, a clerk must have been suspected. Some little time before, Mr Godfrey had a more serious quarrel than usual with his step-father, and had left the office. It was not until after this that he knew forgery had been committed, but he was aware that the bills had come into the possession of Thurles & Company. His absence suggested a brilliant idea to Picknell, who had a rather large circle of acquaintance of the shadiest character, and was himself, indeed, under a very demure aspect, about as bad a fellow as the Newgate calendar could show. He found out Sam, who was quite willing to undertake so profitable and easy a piece of work as Picknell represented the breaking into the office to be.
The clerk had secured impressions in wax of the keys of the outer safe—he could not get at those which opened the interior one—and Sam had no difficulty in finding an artisan who would make duplicate keys from those patterns. While dealing with his ‘professional’ friend, a splendid piece of strategy suggested itself to the clerk. He saw how to screen himself and throw suspicion on the quarter where it was already only too likely to fall, so he assumed the name of Godfrey Harleston. A tolerably correct account of what had occurred as regarded the forgery, fully satisfied Sam of the expediency of his new friend’s proceedings, and convinced him that he ‘had got hold of a good thing.’
The burglary came off successfully, but with much less immediate profit than Sam had hoped for; however, he anticipated a harvest from the bills. Of course Picknell had to tell his confederate much of his plan in regard to these documents, because they were in the burglar’s possession, and he was not likely to give them up without some inducement.
Without loss of time—for he knew how dangerous a path he was treading—the clerk waited on Mrs Thurles, and claiming to represent those who had discounted bills forged by her son—the lady knew nothing of the burglary—so wrought upon her fears, that she paid him a handsome sum on account, and promised a great deal more when the bills should be given to her. Had the poor lady had the courage to speak openly to her son, she would have found how little he had to do with the forgery. He was uneasy about it, and had been trying to raise money elsewhere to pay the firm who had originally discounted the bills. This he had succeeded in doing, which led him to tell Winny he had at last got over the difficulty he had spoken of. The young dog had more to think about than even the bills at the time, for he had just been married to my Winny; at anyrate, his mother could see he was in trouble, and naturally feared the worst.
So the way was clear for Picknell; but he was so covetous and so thoroughly dishonourable, that he could not act fairly to anybody. He gave Sam the paltry two pounds, which aggravated the burglar more than if he had received nothing. This first sum from Mrs Thurles was obtained on the night when I tracked Picknell to the public-house in the mews, so you may guess how my appearance startled Sam. Picknell had meant to abscond the moment he got the money, and till then, he thought he could put Sam off with excuses, especially as the latter supposed he was dealing with Godfrey Harleston, and the name of Picknell had never been mentioned.
Sam found out that his accomplice was cheating him; then, being arrested, and fearing that his wife and child would be left destitute, he sent for me. Mrs Thurles got nearly all her money back; while Sam and Picknell were each tried at the same sessions of the Central Criminal Court, and were each sentenced to penal servitude; Sam’s time being much the longer.
Mr Thurles paid the reward, and I shared it with Mrs Sam, who went away, soon after, to some relatives in the north of England. I never heard any more of her. But before she went, she brought me a queer, old-fashioned silver jug, as a present to Winny—at the wish of Sam, she said. I did not want to take this; but the little woman declared, most earnestly, that it was her grandmother’s or great-grandmother’s, and honestly come by. She said, too, that Sam had talked so much about his gratitude to me for speaking up for him at the trial, that he would be disappointed if his gift was refused. I recollected Sam’s promise then, and accepted the present, which Winny has on her sideboard; and a gentleman who knows about such things has told her that the jug is very curious and valuable.
Poor Mrs Thurles was so delighted to find her son free, that she would have welcomed his wife if she had been an Eskimo. She took kindly to Winny; and I am proud to say that there is not a happier wife in London than my daughter.
AN OLD LAMMAS REVEL.
The festival of the Gule of August, on Lammas Day, was one of the four great pagan festivals of Britain. This Gwyl (or festival) probably originated in the desire to celebrate the ingathering of the first-fruits of the earth, particularly that of the grain. Upon the introduction of Christianity into this country the festival continued to be observed on that account. The usual offering at church at this season of the year was a loaf (hlaf) of bread, hence the day became known as ‘Hlaf-mass,’ which became shortened into ‘Lammas.’