England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Reckless as impunity in crime had made him, he was not dull enough to
ignore the stupendous risk of such a colossal piece of knavery. But
the excitement of carrying out Goodhare’s daring plans had now become
necessary to his jaded senses, on which the risks of smaller and
meaner thefts were beginning to pall. Trusting, therefore, to the
fertile invention of the elder man for the details of the plot, he at
once set to work on the preliminaries Amos had suggested, and
persuaded the reluctant Sep to do the same.
Weeks passed on, during which Amos put the younger men through their
paces with regard to their recently acquired knowledge of the
geography of the Tower, tested Rees’s progress in the art of using a
file expeditiously and without noise, and caused him to forge letters
from Lord Wenlock, until he produced one which the general himself
might have mistaken for the production of his own pen.
Then, when all was ready, came a spell of bright weather; and Amos,
who had implicit faith in the disorganising powers of fog, waited
until the kindly brown cloak was again drawn over the sky.
One morning in the middle of February he announced that all was ready,
and that the attempt would be made that day. Sep, whom Amos had kept
under his own eye for a week or more, made his way through a thick
sepia-colored mist to the Tower, presented the forged letter, and
after only a short delay was admitted to the Wakefield, or Record,
Tower, where the Crown jewels were kept, and accommodated with a seat.
The day was so dark, and the consequent difficulties of locomotion
were so great, that only very few visitors came to the tower at all.
These few were chiefly of the country cousin sort, and those who came
into the Record Tower did not scruple to crowd round Sep, and to pass
their opinion, in loud whispers, on the merits of the series of neat
little pen-and-ink drawings which he was making from different points
of view, so that from time to time the warder, who stood at the door,
had to come forward and beg them not to interrupt the gentleman.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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