The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1875-03-04
which Rome would be a dustbin ano
Athens RAmscatp and Marnafan

NhANA tOulu UC dQu
Athens Ramsgate and Margate."
thought this absurd, but did not say
so. My friend was obviously mad. But
then his white hair-his very white hair
seemed to give him excuse for being
exceptional; since age has the right 10 b.
dosmatlc with youth, and l was but a
youth in his presence
We were now IN the passage which my
friend had panegyriZed as one OF the most
ancient of the Abbey. Ancient or not
1t was certainly dark, and could scarce.
ly see where was going. Hardly con
scious of what / was doing, or why
should feel very anxious, looked over
my shoulder behind me. Iperceived in
the darkness that same strange figure
which had passed US three minutes be-
fore. Not sounl-not muffled one
the human being alone-its form-its
very dark form.
Now here l might descend from these
very lofty heights of aesthetic disquisi-
ton and lore, with which my friend had
instructed me, and tell plainly, exactly
what happened. / am not going to do
anything of the kind. If the reader
wishes to enjoy an account of a robbery,
Va WIN III
he has only to take in" copies of Reu-
n0lds' Sunday Newspaper, and he will be
able to satisfy his yearnings. l was gar
roted; but since the sensation was quite
enough for myself, and / have no wish
to live it over again, the reader will be
so kind as to supply his imagination
with whatever particulars he pleases. l
lost my bank notes. | never recovered
them. But let that fact suffice as to de-
tail. | hate garroting, both the reading
OF it and the suffering it myself: and
shall not allude farther to the subject.
So soon as recovered passed through
Deans yard and made for the cloisters.
| hailed policeman and informed him
of my wrongs. He stationed himself
just outside the gate, and we two waited
future results.
We stood perhaps five minutes nobody
passed. But just as [ was despairing of
any success gentleman, aged perhaps
thirty, with very black hair and black
whiskers, and d jaunty and juvenile mien,
came out of the yard through the arch
way. lie was not my friend. NY friend
was sixty, was white, was aged this man
was eXuberant with youth
| scarcely bestowed even one glance on
this gentleman; but my surprise was in
tense on seeing the policeman instantly
collar and handcuff him He was the
man. BY a singular coincidence he had
been watched the night before round the
cloisters of Westminster Abbey. He
was known to the police" He had
been tracked more than once in these
lairs by detective dressed in plain
clothes. he was a frequenter of inter
esting places, in toilets more or less
grave. He had even been known to be a
Bishop in the Crystal Palace at Syden.
ham. He was fond of assuming a dig
nited character, with leaning toward
venerable age. Pity that society misun-
derstood him! With such versatility of
talent he might have risen very high in
some of the branches of Legitimate
felony"
Briefly, my friend was a frstclass
thief; he had graduated in the klepto
maniac college. Not precisely at Oxford
nor accurately at Dublin, he had never
theless taken his degree. NJ. A. he was.
though the a" might be eauivocal in
the moral of its range, while doubtless
difficult to master" He had been at a
very good school, and. as it transpired
not many days afterward when his story
was told before a magistrate, he had
once gained prize for Latin COMPOST
ton and had been second for an exhibi.
ton at Oxford. His boast was therefore
well founded. He had merely directed
into telonious channels the abilities
which were meant for conventional
BelOTdri1