IN A LONDON FOG.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 322, 21 December 1910, Page 2

IN A LONDON FOG.

THE GRUESOME STORY OP A WOMAN WHO WAS MURDERED. The keeper of a night coffee-stall at the foot of Westminster Bridge tells the following story :—"I remember early one morning when the fog was so thick that yer couldn't see 'arf across the bridge, and what sviv the bloomin' fog an' fings being quiet I was nearly clroppin' orf to sleep. But yer've got to keep awake some'ow, or else some of the 'boys' would be after yer till, in no time. They're a pretty 'ot lot abaht 'ere. Well, as I was sayin', I was just doin' a yawn when up pops a young woman, just where you'r' standin', sir. I shall never forget 'cr face. She looked that frightened, as if a 'ole gang of 'Ooligans was at her 'eels. What she was I ain't goin' to say, 'cause I don't know ; but I've never seen no one so frightened before. She looks 'ard at me for a minute and then she says, 'Have you seen 'im go by ?' 'Oos 'im,' I asks, kind of cautious like. 'Black Bill,' she answers, 'he's after me, and if he catches me it's murder.' To tell yer the truth, sir, I began to think she was mad, so I says, just to 'umour 'er, making a guess, 'ls '6 a tall, dark man, wiv black eyes ?' 'Yes, yes,' she says, ' 'e's got a bright scarf on.' 'That's 'im.' I says, ' 'c went over the bridge 'arf an hour ago.' 'Fank God !' sho cried, and she rushes back the way opposite. "Well, of course, I 'adn't seen no dark man with no red scarf, but what was I to say ? She might'avc been mad, or she might not. Any'ow she didn't want to cross the bridge, that was evident." " 'Arf an hour afterwards the fog was wuss than over,, and then up comes a navvy sort of chap. Thr; is where the mysterious part comes in. 'E was tall, very black eyes, and —I could just see a hit of a flaming red scarf, where the button of his coat was undone. Believe me guv'nor, when I saw that I felt sort of shivery. 'E was a powerful lookin' man, one of the sort that looks as v if they would just as soon cut your froat as change a tanner. 'E says 'Give us a cup o' corfee, mate, "He it down, pays me, and just as he is goin', says, " 'Yer ain't ssen a young woman go over, I suppose, in a blue coat wiv a brooch on it, and roses 'anging ofi 'er 'at ?' " 'I don't know if it is the one you mean,' I says, 'but a young woman wiv a brooch on 'ad a cup 0' corfee 'ere a little while ago.' " E smacks the cup down and 'e yslls, 'Which way did she go ?' and then mutters something under his breath. " 'Right over,' T says, somiin' 'im the way she 'ndn't gone. lie dashes orf, and if ever there was murder in a man's eyes there was in his. '••'Well, it didn't come orf that night. What happened afterwards I don't know ; but a poor girl .wm murdered in Houthwark later in the month, and although 1 never sav a photograph of the man, somehow I have al-.:-\ys thought it ras 'im. Something in the trial made mo think so. If it was them t.vo t.h->t spoke to me I am glad I put Mm on the scent that night. What they wa.; to each other I shall n?ver be toll, I reckon ; but sometimes when it's a foggy morning like this, I gets to thinkin' about murders and red ties, and then I'm glad to talk to a gent. for company."—"London Echoes."