"On the ensuing night, precisely as the clock struck twelve, I stole softly down from my bed-room, and entered the shop by means of a skeleton key. I then cautiously opened the front door, and admitted Dick Flairer and Bill Bolter. We immediately set to work to pack up all the most valuable and most portable articles; in which occupation we were engaged when a cry of 'Fire, fire!' was heard in the street outside; and almost at the same moment a tremendous knocking at the front door began. For an instant we were paralysed; but the noise of steps descending the stairs hurried us into action; and, opening the doors, we darted from the house with the speed of wild animals, leaving all the booty behind us. The cry of 'Fire!' was instantly succeeded by that of 'Thieves!' and several persons began to pursue us hotly. We gained Wellington Street, and hastened towards Waterloo Bridge, intending to get into the Borough with the least possible delay. On we went—through the great gate, without waiting to pay the toll at the entrance of the footway—the pursuers gaining upon us. Suddenly I recollected that the cornice along the outside of the parapet was very wide; and without hesitating a moment I sprang over the parapet, alighted on the cornice, and only saved myself from falling into the river by catching hold of the gas-pipe which runs along the outer side of the bridge. Scarcely had I thus accomplished a most dangerous feat, when I distinctly saw a man, a few yards a-head, mount the parapet, and precipitate himself into the river. Then arose the sounds of voices on the bridge, crying, 'He is over!' 'He has leaped in!' 'He will be drowned.' 'They have all three escaped.' 'But where the devil could the other two have got to?' and such-like exclamations, which convinced me that my companions were safe. There I remained, a prey to a thousand painful reflections and horrid ideas, for upwards of an hour; till at length I grew so dizzy that I was every moment on the point of falling into the river. The bridge was now completely silent; and I ventured to leave my hiding-place. I passed over the bridge to the Surrey side, without molestation, and proceeded by a circuitous route to the Old House in Chick Lane, where, to my astonishment, I found Bill Bolter. I then learnt that it was Dick Flairer who had leapt into the river, and was no doubt drowned; and that Bolter had only escaped by concealing himself in the deep shade of one of the recesses of the bridge, when totally overcome by fatigue, until his pursuers had passed, when he retraced his steps, and quietly gained the Strand.
"We were greatly grieved to think that our enterprise in the jeweller's house should have failed, and that we had lost so excellent a fellow as Flairer; but in the midst of our lamentations, the door opened and Dick himself entered the room. Pale, dripping, and exhausted, he fell upon a seat, and would most probably have fainted—if not died—had we not forced some brandy down his throat. He then revived; and, having changed his clothes, was soon completely recovered from the effects of his bath, and the desperate exertions he had made to swim to a wharf communicating with the Commercial Road.
"We staid for the remainder of the night at the Old House; and on the following morning Dick Flairer went up to the boozing-ken, where he procured a newspaper. He then returned to us; and we perceived by the journal that the curtains of the bed-room which I had occupied at the jeweller's house had caught fire, and created the alarms which had interrupted us in the midst of our employment in the shop. I moreover ascertained that I was of course suspected of having admitted thieves into the premises, and that a reward was offered for my apprehension. I was accordingly compelled to remain concealed for some weeks in the Old House, while Bolter and Flairer, being unsuspected, were enabled to go abroad. I did not upon this occasion conceal myself in the dungeon of the Old House, for I could not bear the solitude of that living tomb; and as Bolter and Flairer were constantly visiting me, the time did not hang so very heavily on my hands. At length I left the Old House, and I and Dick returned to Canterbury.
"When we arrived there, after an absence of two months, we made a most unpleasant discovery—unpleasant to Dick as the brother, and to me who was enamoured of Mary. She was in a way to become a mother; her situation was too palpable to be concealed. Dick flew into a most ungovernable rage; and Mary tried to deny it. But the fact was glaring, and she was obliged to confess that she had been seduced by a serjeant of the regiment stationed at Canterbury. Her attachment to that man, and the hope that he would do her justice, were the reasons that had induced her to remain at Canterbury, when we went to London. The serjeant had recently treated her with neglect and indifference, and she longed for revenge. Dick and I swore that she should have it. She told us that the serjeant was very fond of angling, and that every morning early he indulged in his favourite sport in the river Stour, which flowed close by the barracks.
"Next morning Dick and I went down to the river, and there we saw the serjeant preparing his tackle. From the description we had received of him, we knew him to be the man we wanted; but there was a large water-mill close by, and we dared not attack him in a spot that was so overlooked. We accordingly returned home, and consulted together how we should proceed. At length we resolved that Mary should endeavour to get him to grant her an interview on the banks of the river. She sent him a note, saying that she was to leave Canterbury in a few days, and that she wished to see him once more. She concluded by begging him to meet her that evening or the next between nine and ten o'clock, close by the bridge of Kingsford's water-mill. He consented, and appointed the evening of the next day for the interview.
"The hour drew nigh, and Mary went to the place agreed upon. Dick and I followed her at a little distance. The night was dark; it was in the month of April; and the air was very cold. As we drew near the bridge as noiselessly as we could, we distinguished the forms of two persons standing upon the bridge, and leaning in earnest conversation upon the low railing that overhung the huge wheel which was revolving beneath, the torrent pouring over it through the sluices of the dam upon the top of which the bridge stood. We advanced closer; and could then perceive that the two forms were those of Mary and her seducer. We proceeded to the bridge. When we reached the middle, Dick went up to the serjeant, and said, 'This is my sister; do you mean to do her justice?'—'No,' cried Mary; 'he has just told me that I need have no hope in that respect.' 'Then there is nothing more to be said,' exclaimed Dick Flairer; and at the same moment we precipitated ourselves upon the serjeant. Dick Flairer pressed his hand upon his mouth; the poor wretch struggled violently; but in an instant we hurled him over the bridge-railing. He fell upon the wheel; the roar of the torrent, and the din of the ponderous machine drowned his last cry of agony, and the crushing of his bones. 'Now, Mary,' said I, 'you are revenged.' She pressed my hand convulsively, without uttering a word; and we returned to our lodgings.
"Next day, the body of the serjeant was found, fearfully crushed and mutilated, a mile below the mill, entangled in a bed of osiers. It was carried to the barracks: an inquest was called; and a verdict of 'Found Drowned' was recorded. Not a suspicion was entertained that the man had been murdered, it being evident from the surgical examination that he had been crushed by the wheel of the mill, upon which it was supposed he had accidentally fallen, over the bridge-railing, which was only about three feet high.
"The moment the verdict was returned, and we saw that no suspicion attached to any body in reference to the murder, we left Canterbury, and repaired to London. In the course of a few weeks, Mary became the mother of a still-born child; and in due time I assured her that I would overlook her fault, and marry her if she would have me. She was pleased with the proposal; and Dick readily agreed to it. But before we could be spliced, I one day met the goldsmith of the Strand in the street; and he gave me into custody. I was taken before the magistrates, and fully committed for an attempt to rob my employer. While I was in Newgate, waiting for my trial, I was greatly alarmed lest the old gentleman, whom I had robbed at the auction mart, should prefer an indictment against me; but my fears in this respect were unfounded. At length the sessions commenced, and I was put upon my trial. The Sheriffs had supplied me with counsel, for I was completely without funds when I was arrested. The barrister thus retained in my behalf, advised me to plead guilty, as I should then stand a good chance of escaping transportation. I followed his recommendation, and expressed my contrition for the offence. The Recorder read me a long lecture, and condemned me to seven years' transportation, which sentence was commuted