Secret Service; or, Recollections of a City DetectiveForrester, Andrew
General
Secret Service; or, Recollections of a City Detective
Forrester, Andrew
Detective and mystery stories, English; Fiction; Short stories
I was oppressed in conscience about Mr. and Mrs. Jollefat and their
purse for the rest of the day. I felt that we must go in and win, or we
must not go in at all, but must run away. Then my associate and partner
would stick by the candidate, and perhaps really succeed in doing as he
said must be done--that was, gladden the hearts of the candidate and his
wife by a triumph at the poll, and get the requisite amount of money to
pay him for the operation. About the former part of the business I was
not at all certain; but if, on the other hand, he failed, which was more
likely, could I rid myself from the responsibility by merely withdrawing
at the present stage of affairs? I resolved to go on, and make the best
use of the little legal knowledge I had obtained, so as to keep out of
harm's way. I was ultimately able to devise what I then thought, and
still think, my greatest Electioneering Trick.
I took a stroll, in order to collect my thoughts; and after cudgelling
my brain for an hour or two, hit upon the following expedient, which I
carried out in the manner described.
I hastened to London by a midnight train, took a cab from the Euston
Station, and knocked up a clever fellow in my own line of business, who
was instructed by me, and who acted under my direction to the letter and
spirit, so that the _ruse_ was, as the reader will see, entirely
successful. As far as I could, of course, I directly superintended the
details of my scheme.
Residing in the neighbourhood of Soho was a man of considerable ability,
who, as I was informed, and have now good reasons for believing, could
talk and write with great ease and facility. What his political
principles were I do not know, nor did I then care about any more than
he did himself. He was ready to accept the engagement which I offered
him. For a price he agreed to become a third candidate for the
representation of N----.
My man--the new candidate--and I, after quitting the lodgings of the
former, went to an adjacent hostelry, where, having secured a private
room, and called for pens, ink, and paper, cigars, and a bottle of wine,
we concocted an address to "the free and independent electors" of the
borough we were to humbug. This was taken to a printer, who, for a
little more than ordinary pay, got it into type, and printed off five
hundred copies within three hours.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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