A cry in the darkness—a crime in the night.—
With the blood of the victim the sharp blade is wet;
In silence we gaze on the horrible sight—
The dark deed is done—but the end is not yet.
It was on this very night that the habitues of that particular passage in the Whitechapel section, gazed with sentiments of mingled awe and curiosity, as Sam Hop Lee withdrew the bloody weapon from the prostrate body of "Queen Liz."
Elizabeth's reputation in the passage was pretty clearly defined in our opening chapter. Her ability to defend herself and friends against her pugilistic and plundering neighbors had been the eventual outcome of fear, desperation and the first law of nature.
She shunned their society from the first, and acting on the advice of one who knew the ways of rogues and rascals from long association, she demonstrated her skill in the use of "protecting irons" at the very first provocation. Jealousy and envy surrounded her, yet so great was their fear of genuine bravery that Elizabeth managed to live pretty much as she wished in her own wretched room. She guarded her beautiful baby girl with the ferocious affection of a tigress. Not an instant, day or night, was the child allowed out of her sight so great was her distrust of those by whom she was surrounded.
But in some way from the first, Sam Lee had in many ways befriended her. He had given the baby queer little chop sticks to play with and not infrequently an odd looking paper of curious tasting tea was slipped into her hand by the beady-eyed mongolian. Recognizing him at once as Mr. Maynard's mysterious peddler, Elizabeth was inclined to be suspicious of his friendship, but as days and weeks rolled by she found herself going oftener and oftener to his quarters, and never in a single instance did he abuse her neighborly[Pg 147] advances. She tried hard to teach him the English language, but in spite of his earnest efforts he proved but an indifferent scholar.
Soon it was noticed that the genteel looking stranger who spent so much time with Queen Liz, became also much at home in the Chinaman's shanty, and they were frequently heard conversing in that peculiarly abbreviated language that was so bewildering to those who listened.
The genteel stranger was always arrayed in a heavy coat with a jaunty cape and a soft felt hat slouched suspiciously over his eyes. His beard was red and closely cropped, while a tawny moustache completely concealed his mouth. He was seldom seen during the day, but partook strongly of the habits of the other residents in his nocturnal goings and comings.
Queen Liz always escorted him safely to the street, and it was observed by the more curious that her face wore a happier expression after one of his visits, and her whole manner betokened a lighter heart. She would fondle and caress the baby, which she always kept spotlessly clean, and occasionally her voice was heard as she sang some[Pg 148] plaintive air to the uncertain accompaniment of a clanging Chinese cymbal.
But to-night it was all over, and as Sam Lee withdrew the glittering knife from her bleeding side, a terrible frown darkened his brow; Chinese curses and lamentations followed one upon another, and to the bewildered spectators it seemed as if, in his own heathenish method, Sam Lee was swearing vengeance on the murderer, whom he had evidently recognized by the weapon. At any rate, he removed the woman and the child, and the inmates, nothing loth, resigned all claim upon them both, and soon the episode, like many others of similar nature, was forgotten.
Only a week later the Chinaman's shanty was closed and no one of the trio, Queen Liz, the child or their benefactor, was ever again seen by the inhabitants of the passage.