Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

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“Here in this town,” muttered Peace to himself. “How can he have possibly guessed? Why, of course, my name in the bills. Curse it, I must have been mad to play in my own name.”

“Any answer, sir?” said the man, touching his forehead.

“Answer. Well, yes, I s’pose so. He wants to see me. Where’s this house, the ‘Bag o’ Nails?’”

“Not a quarter of a mile from here.”

“Very good, then I’ll go at once with you.”

Peace and his dilapidated companion walked on in silence for some time; they threaded three of the dingiest and most miserable streets in the town. The locality was in consonance with the character of the tinker.

“Do you know the person who gave you that letter?” said Peace.

“I’ve seen him once or twice before, I think. Don’t know much on him. Guv’nor does, I believe.”

“Umph. Has he been long in the town?”

“Came yesterday, I b’lieve.”

They now arrived in front of a dirty-looking beershop, which was the house they were bound for. The man, who was potman to the establishment, led the way in. He passed the bar, and pointed to a room in the rear of the premises.