RECOLLECTIONS OF A LONDON DETECTIVE.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume XI, Issue 3727, 4 February 1891, Page 3

RECOLLECTIONS OF A LONDON DETECTIVE.

No i.—The Tattooed Initials. Some people have queer ideas of the dangerous localities of London. I've laughed at them many a time. Gents often come tc me to guide them through these places, and I say: to them, "Where would you like tc go?" and most likely they'll say, "Oh, Petticoat Lane on Sunday morning," 01 "some of the cheap lodging-houses on Saturday night," or " Ratcliffe Highway " ffc* <that is St. George Street) "on Saturda_y night;"-and iheh they'll strip off theii watches and scarf-pins, and leave them and their purses at home, and come with me through these places—where there is nothing but poor, people trying to get an honest living—trembling for their lives every inch Jl of the way, and with me laughing in my sleeve all the time. I should like to hear the tall stories they'll tell to their friends when they go home. The perils of an African lion-killer or an Indian scalp-hunter would he nothing to what they've gone through. Now, I don't mean to sav that thieving doesn't go on in Middlesex Street, or that desperate men are not to be found in the lodging-houses, or that a fellow may not get a knife run into him in St. George Street without quite deserving it; but these things may happen just as readily in other parts oi London. And this I will say—and I think 1 should know—that there are quiet and innocent-looking places scattered over the metropolis through which those gents would walk as bold as possible, singing away as pleased as Punch, but where I never gc alone and without being ready at any _ moment to fight for my life. There is a bit of my body that hasn't a mark most of these wounds were got in places. London life ? poh ! the world—and more especially the newsmen and story-writers—know nothing about it:' I've had them with me often, and they always admitted, when I chaffed them a bit, that wherever they were at a loss for anything they invented it. The best weapon you can carry, and the one I use most, is a pair of good fists and the power ta use them, though for cowing a man into giving in quietly before he has mauled you all over a pistol is useful enough in its way. lam not small—just half-an-inch inside of six feet— End when I do strike out the man generally goes down, and seldom asks for anything I have put all this down first because it so happens that I am going to begin with Ratcliffe Highway, by giving the case of Spanking Poll, who will be remembered yet by many about the Highway. I was looking for a sailor whose ship had come home, but who had never gone near his wife, and so left her and the children on the parish, and dropped in one of the dancing saloons there one Saturday night thinking I might find him there. The place was pretty full, the men being either sailors from the docks or : oldiers from the barracks at Tower Hill. Three Germans were playing away at the head of the room, and to their music the company were dancing like fury. The girls were done up in the usual style with very flash dresses, mostly white, with low bodies, and great hats and long feathers. I've often chaffed them about these fine feathers making fine birds of such ugly wenches, for a worse-looking lot it would be hard to find anywhere. There might be one exception in a hundred, and. one of these was Spanking Poll, who, as I sat down at one of the narrow drinking-rtables ranged all round'the room, threw off her partner withouta word, and came right across the" room towards me with quite a different look on her face from that she showed to the others. I think I see her now—she was a perfect picture.- Her cheeks were painted, of course, but that only made her look more like a wax figure. I never conld understand how the man who had married her, and sworn before God to love and cherish her,* could have forced her to that life. She was beautiful, lost and degraded though she was, and, what is better, she had a heart under all her paint, though few but me had ever discovered it. They called her Spanking Poll, because sheseemed the widest spirit among them. It was all put on. Her gaiety was a "sham; and her laugh, which you might.have beard.above all,, out in the front shop, and thought so light and merry, was only her trick for making believe that her heart was not crushed. She knew me well, for I xrace saved her getting three months by mistake for another girl. It was all a plot, but I happened to get into the thick of it. and appeared at Guildhall just in time to put things right. A little kindness goes a great way with her sort, and once when-r\*as set onby three drunken soldiers with'their belts she came upand routed the A lot. Their own sergeant did not know thera 9. neXV day, their faces were so torn and scratched. Poll came straight across the room to met with the different look that I mentioned beaming from her. face, and ashe came my eye fell from her face to her breast, for-.there was Poll's distinguishing mark, which caught the eye a great deal quicker than her beauty. -It was ing in dark blue ink of her initials, " U.J.. In size the letters were. about an inch square, and had probably been done by some sailor. "M. T." stood icr her real name, Mary Travers. The. letters glared, at you from her white breast, and, I suppose, ** were looked,upon as a certificate of the owner's spiritm bravelyenduring the slow torture of the tatooing process. .. ••I wanted to see you," she said, under her breath, witrrall the gaiety gone from her face, and nothing but grimseriousness in its place. "Do you know Blue Bell ?" "The barmaid?" Oh, yes, I knew her well. She served in a flashy pub. m the City, and got her name from the blue rum ilje sold. She was a-very haughty dame. mo" professed to be rich enough to. have ived without so serving if she had chosen. "What offer/" I asked, when I had made sure that we were speaking of the same girl. ' .--••' " Well. I heard that he was after her, and that she encourages him, and would marry him if it weren't for me." "You mean Jim Travers, your husband ? "Yes I couldn't believe the story, for she is such-a grand lady, and, they say, is to get'a'lbt of money when she marries, and he is such a mean-looking wretch that you would think a fine lady like her would spit in his face; so I went up and had a look tor myself." • " . . , . ' •.■•■• And you saw him there, hanging about "Isaw him!" and her nails almost met through the sleeve of my thin alpaca jacket as she spoke. I gently released my sleeve and the flesh she. was pinching with it, and then she added—- "• And he saw me too; for he came out • into the lane, and followed me and kicked me." /-' 3 } V 1 ■*• .- - „ "The brute! Why did you not holler out and give him in charge ?" " I daren't. He'd have sworn against me, I'd have had three months. Everything's _ against the like of us. He wants me dead, for he can't marry her, and she can't get the money till I'm out of the way. He asked me how long I'd be of dying, and he looked so like he wanted to help me away that I am frightened. That's what I wanted to see _. you about. If Igo missing, or if you don't / see me abont as usual, 'will you hunt for me?' Hunt everywhere—hunt high and low till you get me or my body. Will you ?" She seemed so dead in earnest that I looked at her for a little, and then said with abitofalaugh—' ' . "You've been drinking, Poll, or such thoughts would never enter your head. How cari' yon be afraid of a miserable shell like him?. Why, one slap of your hand would kill him." . ~,..«_ " I know all that; but I'm afraid, she answered, fearfully. " You've no idea how he looked. I saw murder in .his eyes, if murder's to be seen in any one's eyes. And though I have been drinking, what I have had hasn't shut put that look. I wish I could drink it away. I'd feel more comfortable." ■ . ' m •• if you're in bodily fear we can easily If J stop his little game." I said, pitying the L poor lass. , . „ " No, no; I daren't make any complaint, she answered,; in terror. " Don't say anything about it. but keep your eyes open," I promised as she wished, and in a moment she ran off among the sailors, laughing and chatting as gaily as before. Her dress was always different from the common rim, from a taste she had in that way, and from her having been a dressmaker one time. The one she wore on this occasion—and I suppose the only one she ~j± had—was white, with- pink flounces round ' the skirt, alt was only cotton, I believe, but looked very nice, and by those pink flounces Poll could have been spotted half a mile off. ! I saw Poll, after that queer talk with her., for some weeks going- about much as usual, and then I missed her and asked one of the potmen»in that same saloon what had become of her. " Oh, Poll ?" he said, busy wiping down his tables and carrying off empty glasses; " blest if she ain't made it up with Travers V and left the 'lghway." " Made it up ? You mean cone to live with her husband again?" I cried, quite amazed. " Travers was a lazy warehouseman, and would never work if he could live without. and'as'fbr-Vaking home the wife he had driven from him by starvation and every kind of-cruelty, I could not believe it. It was the very last thing I should have expected, and I said so to the waiter. "But T saw him'with her o' Sunday night,"ahe man persisted. " I knew Jiim, but I wasn't sure of her, though I know her white dress-in the pmk flounces She'd a different bead-piece—a bonnet and veil