“Don’t despair, ma’am,” I said, with an insinuating mildness which seemed to touch her. “I have heard a mysterious conversation—I know of a guilty appointment—and I expect great things from my peep-hole and my pipe-hole to-night. Pray don’t be alarmed, but I think we are on the brink of a discovery.”
Here my enthusiastic devotion to business got the better part of my tender feelings. I looked—winked—nodded—left her.
When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting his mutton-chops in an armchair, with his pipe in his mouth. On his table were two tumblers, a jug of water, and the pint bottle of brandy. It was then close upon seven o’clock. As the hour struck the person described as “Jack” walked in.
He looked agitated—I am happy to say he looked violently agitated. The cheerful glow of anticipated success diffused itself (to use a strong expression) all over me, from head to foot. With breathless interest I looked through my peep-hole, and saw the visitor—the “Jack” of this delightful case—sit down, facing me, at the opposite side of the table to Mr. Jay. Making allowance for the difference in expression which their countenances just now happened to exhibit, these two abandoned villains were so much alike in other respects as to lead at once to the conclusion that they were brothers. Jack was the cleaner man and the better dressed of the two. I admit that, at the outset. It is, perhaps, one of my failings to push justice and impartiality to their utmost limits. I am no Pharisee; and where Vice has its redeeming point, I say, let Vice have its due—yes, yes, by all manner of means, let Vice have its due.
“What’s the matter now, Jack?” says Mr. Jay.
“Can’t you see it in my face?” says Jack. “My dear fellow, delays are dangerous. Let us have done with suspense, and risk it, the day after to-morrow.”
“So soon as that?” cries Mr. Jay, looking very much astonished. “Well, I’m ready, if you are. But, I say, Jack, is somebody else ready, too? Are you quite sure of that?”
He smiled as he spoke—a frightful smile—and laid a very strong emphasis on those two words, “Somebody else.” There is evidently a third ruffian, a nameless desperado, concerned in the business.
“Meet us to-morrow,” says Jack, “and judge for yourself. Be in the Regent’s Park at eleven in the morning, and look out for us at the turning that leads to the Avenue Road.”
“I’ll be there,” says Mr. Jay. “Have a drop of brandy-and-water? What are you getting up for? You’re not going already?”