Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England Midnight Webs By George Manville Fenn Published by Tinsley Brothers, 18 Catherine Street, Strand, London. This edition dated 1872. Midnight Webs, by George Manville Fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ MIDNIGHT WEBS, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. STORY ONE: SMITH'S DITTY. INTRODUCTION. FIRST WORDS. I've waited these many years, expecting some one or another would give a full and true account of it all, but little thinking it would ever come to be my task; for it's not in my way. But seeing how much has been said about other parts and other people's sufferings, while ours never so much as came in for a line of newspaper, I can't think it's fair; and as fairness is what I always did like, I set to, very much against my will; while, on account of my empty sleeve, the paper keeps slipping and sliding about, so that I can only hold it quiet by putting the lead inkstand on one corner, and my tobacco-jar on the other. You see, I'm not much at home at this sort of thing; and though, if you put a pipe and a glass of something before me, I could tell you all about it, taking my time like, it seems that won't do. I said: "Why don't you write it down as I tell it, so as other people could read all about it?" But "No," he says; "I could do it in my fashion; but I want it to be in your simple unadorned style; so set to and do it." I daresay a good many of you know me--seen me often in Bond-street, at Facet's door--Facet's, you know, the great jeweller's, where I stand and open carriages, or take messages, or small parcels with no end of valuables in them; for I'm trusted. Smith, my name is--Isaac Smith; and I'm that tallish grisly fellow with the seam down one side of his face, his left sleeve looped up to the button, and not a speck to be seen on that "commissionnaire's" uniform, upon whose breast there are three medals. I was standing one day, waiting patiently for something to do, when a tallish gentleman came up, nodded as if he knew me well; and I saluted. "Lose that limb in the Crimea, my man?" "No, sir; Mutiny," I said, standing as stiff as use had made nature with me. And then he asked me a heap more questions; and I answered him; and the end of it was, that one evening I went to his house, and he had me in, and did what was wanted to set me off. I'd had a little bit of an itching to try something of the kind, I must own, for long enough; but his words started me; and in consequence I got a quire of the best foolscap paper, and a pen'orth of pens; and here's my story. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ STORY ONE, CHAPTER ONE.