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Updated: May 24, 2025
The audacity of the deed contributed largely to its success. Great was the rage and consternation of Gashford when he awoke the following morning and found that his treasure had disappeared. Jumping at once to the conclusion that it had been stolen by Brixton, he ran to that youth's tent and demanded to know where the thief had gone to.
Craig hastened to warn Brixton of his peril from the contaminated atmosphere of the den, and at once a servant was set to work with a vacuum cleaner. Carefully Craig reconnoitred the basement where the eavesdropping storeroom was situated.
An' you needn't be too soft, Westly," he added, with a cynical smile. "Your chum has Well, it's no business o' mine. You can go to him." Poor Tom Brixton started as his old friend went up to him, and then hung his head. "Dear Tom," said Fred, in a low voice, "don't give way to despair.
How she was first lodged in Brixton Prison and at length appeared in the dock at the Old Bailey before a Court that might have been set for a Cinematograph. There was a judge with a full-bottomed wig, a scarlet and ermine vesture, there was a jury of prosperous shopkeepers, retired half pay officers, a hotelkeeper or two, a journalist, an architect, and a builder.
"Right, Paddy," said Tom Brixton, with a harsh laugh; "we've done nothing absolutely nothing. See, there is my day's work." He pulled three small grains of gold, each about the size of a pea, from his trousers pocket, and flung them contemptuously into a washing-pan at his elbow. "Sure, we won't make our fortins fast at that rate," said Paddy, or Patrick Flinders.
"I've ordered the furniture to be sold; and all there is of it will not realize sufficient to pay her funeral expenses. Brixton wrote me that she has left a bundle of letters directed to me, and I desired him to send them on." "I wonder what they can be," said Mrs. Stevens. "Some trash, I suppose; an early love correspondence, of but little value to any one but herself.
Oh, no. It was only from Aunt Emmy, at Brixton. Well, perhaps Aunt Emmy knew somebody in the West End. What could she have written about? "Is mother in, d'you know?" Sally asked the woman. "I fancy ... yes, I fancy she just went out. Shoppin', I expect. It's a nice evening. You know, what I call crisp.
Nevertheless, having already gathered in a valise some books, photographs, letters, and other odds and ends, he went to Brixton to obtain them. While giving a farewell glance around his dingy room, an old envelope, thrown aside overnight, reminded him of a half-formed idea, which appealed to him strongly now that he knew his port of departure. So he wrote a short letter: Dear Mr.
"In Brixton Road, this morning," it ran, "a plain gold wedding ring, found in the roadway between the 'White Hart' Tavern and Holland Grove. Apply Dr. Watson, 221B, Baker Street, between eight and nine this evening." "Excuse my using your name," he said. "If I used my own some of these dunderheads would recognize it, and want to meddle in the affair." "That is all right," I answered.
"It does seem to be a little out of the common," he remarked, calmly. "Would you mind reading it to me aloud?" This is the letter which I read to him "There has been a bad business during the night at 3, Lauriston Gardens, off the Brixton Road. Our man on the beat saw a light there about two in the morning, and as the house was an empty one, suspected that something was amiss.
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