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

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“It be missus’s ghost, that’s what it be!” exclaimed the servant girl, from her bedroom. “Ah, woe is me that I should live to see such a dreadful sight!”

“You little fool,” cried Peace, “hold your cursed tongue, will you? Ghost, indeed!—​more like a robber.”

“I’ve lost the jewels; they’ve been stolen!” said the detective. “Lost them! Don’t let anyone leave the house.”

He returned to his bedroom, slipped on his trousers and boots. Meanwhile Peace turned to Brickett, and said—

“Who’s in the house besides ourselves? Any stranger?”

“Yes, one.”

“Which is his room?”

“No. 9, on the next floor,” said the landlord, who had never been so puzzled and alarmed in his life.

Peace rushed back into his bedroom, snatched up the chamber candlestick, and flew up the wide staircase, never pausing till he had reached the upper floor. The door of the No. 9 bedroom was wide open.

Our hero entered the apartment, which was tenantless. He rushed into each of the other rooms on the same floor.

One was occupied by the little maid who acted as supplementary waitress—​another was tenanted by an old woman, and another was where the potman slept. All the occupants were scared at beholding our hero with his revolver in one hand, and his chamber candlestick in the other.