Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
“Burglary—burglary! I have been robbed. The thief has been trying at my
door again; I have tracked her now, There the woman goes; seize her!
seize her! she has robbed me of a diamond ear-ring; I swear it, I am
ready to testify; here is the mate; seize her, or she will be off.”
As she spoke, the old woman drew the ear-ring from her bosom and held it
up in the light of a street-lamp. The man gave one glance at the
sparkling stones, and darted after Jane Kelly, who was gliding off like
a shadow in the distance.
Madame put up her jewel, and followed the policeman, chuckling softly to
herself.
“Is this the person?” said the policeman, leading Jane Kelly back, with
a strong grasp on her arm. “Have I caught the right bird?”
“That is the woman,” replied the old De Marke, peering into Jane’s face,
“I should know her among a thousand. I caught her in my room, not ten
minutes ago, robbing my money-box; picked the door-lock when I was out
buying groceries; had this very ear-ring in her hand; you’ll find the
box open on the floor, just as she left it. I trod softly, light as a
feather, darted in upon her, snatched this from her hand—she ran—I after
her, and here she is!”
Jane Kelly stood before her accuser as she uttered these charges, dumb
with astonishment, and pale with dismay. She looked from the policeman
to the old woman and back again with a wild stare.
“What is the witch at now?” she said, at last, in a frightened voice,
wincing under the grasp fixed on her arm. “Let me go, I haven’t done
nothing; I’m a hired nurse at Bellevue Hospital—a paid nurse, do you
understand?”
“Is she?” inquired the man, turning to Madame de Marke.
“Don’t know anything about her, sir; saw her hanging about my building
about ten days ago, first and last time I ever saw her till now. That
night I walked in the streets from twelve o’clock at night till three in
the morning, the priest made me do it as a penance; when I got home, the
mate to this was gone from my money-box; to-night she came after another
haul!”
Jane Kelly turned upon her fierce and pale. “Woman, you lie!” broke from
lips that trembled so with fear and passion that the words came almost
in a whisper.
“Of course I do; no one ever told the truth about a thief; of course
it’s all a story, perhaps the magistrate’ll think so.”
“You do not mean to have me really taken up?”
“Of course not; you’ve committed burglary on my premises, robbed me of
diamonds worth five hundred dollars, and tried to do it again; but of
course I a’n’t going to take you up, dear. Perhaps I’m tender-hearted,
perhaps I love you too much, perhaps you’ll be marched off to the police
office without another minute’s time for abusing me! Mr. Policeman, just
move on, I am ready. It isn’t too late yet, and I want to get home
again!”
“I won’t go—I charge that woman with murder, perjury, false
imprisonment. She’s an imp, a wretch, a wild beast, I tell you; take
_her_ up, I charge her with something worse than stealing.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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