2.02: The evil parson makes his move. — Spring-heel'd Jack's plunge in the black river! - The Penny Dreadful Radio Hour: A Late Regency/Early Victorian Weekly Feast of Crammers and Moonshine

Episode Transcript
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(00:10):
A tip top evening to all you Flash Coves's gravel tax
collectors and Knights of the Brush and Moon.
I'm your host, Finn JD John, welcoming you back to the
chafing crib. It's Sunday night, so it's time
once again for the Penny Dreadful Radio Hour.
So Stow your barking irons and put up your pins and top off

(00:30):
your flickers with clear blue ruin.
Sluice your ivories till they shine and prick up your lugs.
Cause another rare noggin of prattery in the form of the
Penny Dreadful Radio Hour is upon us.
Like Colonel Mephistophiles, Youknow who on a dumb rich
aristocrat. And he's got plenty to choose
from right now, doesn't he? The Penny Dreadful Radio Hour is

(00:52):
the podcast that carries you back to the sooty, foggy streets
of early Victorian London when the latest batch of the story
papers hit the streets. Not the fancy ones that cost a
whole shilling, but the cheap scrappy ones that cost a penny.
Ones that the Diamond Squad callPenny Bloods or Penny Dreadfuls.
That's right. And the good stuff, like 1/4 or

(01:15):
two of straight old Tom. They may be a little rough, but
they do the job. Before we jump in, I'll just
acknowledge the obvious. Yes, I have changed the theme
song again. I hope you like this one better.
I sure do. The ragtime track was just too
jumpy and when I did my dog fooding of the episode, I
actually found it distracting. So let me know Finn at

(01:36):
pulp-lit.com. Let me know what you think.
Here's what we got in store for tonight.
First up, we'll hear another exciting adventure starring the
early Victorian ages own answer to Batman.
Or actually, I guess Batman is the Art Deco ages answer to
Spring Heal Jack, the terror of London, which started its run in

(01:57):
1866, long before Batman. We've got Chapter 14 for you
today. In it, we return to Spring Heal
Jack plunging into the dark, filthy waters of the Thames in a
quest to save poor Ellen Folder from the consequences of her
rash act and leaping to her death.
He comes to the surface and finds the title current as

(02:19):
fierce and strikes out in searchof the girl.
He sees her about to get sucked under a barge that's moored in
the stream, but he reaches her amoment too late to avoid getting
sucked under the barge. He grabs it and climbs aboard,
and then, hearing Ellen calling,he hurries to the other side.
But there's a guard on the bargewho thinks he's a thief.
Will he reach the poor drowning girl in time to save her life?

(02:41):
We shall soon see. Next up is Chapter 3 of Rose
Mortimer, or The Ballet Girl's Revenge, a delightful, eventful,
and super melodramatic dreadful that first started publication
in 1867 under the authorship of an anonymous author identifying
himself only as a comedian of the Theater Royale, Drury Lane.

(03:04):
In this chapter, Rose goes back to the theater to try once again
to talk her way into a showbiz job.
Just as she is being repulsed, Jack Halliday appears and
Squires her to the manager's door, past the screeners she's
conveyed into the manager's presence.
The manager is there with another man in the room.
He tells her to get lost, but just then the other man turns

(03:25):
around and hey, it's Count Lerno.
Count Lerno, of course, urges the manager to take Rose on.
The manager does. Back home, Rose sees the evil
Parson, Abel Booth, leaving her house door.
Entering, she asks her father what Abel was doing, and Hugh
realizes Abel was spying on him.Apparently she was supposed to

(03:46):
allow Abel Booth to go ahead andravish her in the street the
previous day, and now he's angrybecause she did not.
Now looking out the window he sees Abel Booth and two other
men on the sidewalk looking up at them.
Hugh knows this means the hour has come, so he orders Rose up
into her room and locks her in and gets an old fashioned pistol
out of the hidden cubby in the floor.
A showdown is about to happen. Will he survive it?

(04:09):
If he does not, will she? But today, we're going to find
out. Before we get into that, let me
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(04:56):
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(05:38):
your phone and go to members.aol.com/ignatius J
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paradise today. A special thanks to Royal Legacy
Authentic Titles for sponsoring this episode.
And now back to the show. It's time now to bound into our

(05:59):
next chapter of Spring Heal Jack, The Terror of London by
Alfred Coats. The Flash can't term for Spring
Heal. Jack is a gent from the Spice
Islands. Don't believe a word that Cove
says? He's a gent from the Spice
Islands. Been studying botany of light?
Give it a guess. After the story, you'll find out
if you were right. Last week in Chapter 13 of

(06:22):
Spring Hill, Jack, a poor but virtuous ballet girl, was on her
way home from work with a horny,libertine and hot pursuit.
He badgered her for sex the whole time throughout the
chapter at considerable length and with commendable honesty,
actually, to give the devil his due, making it very clear that
he would never marry her, but promising her that he would give

(06:43):
her lots of stuff and she would be his wife in all but name,
etcetera. She turned him down again and
again and begged him to leave her alone.
And at length, finding himself alone in a deserted St. with
her, he seized her and proclaimed his intention of
taking her sweet favors by force.
Then someone magically appeared and punched the libertines

(07:04):
lights out. We should start a scoreboard for
the number of times that a virtuous maiden has been saved
from a fate worse than death, inparticular by Spring Heeled
Jack. It seems to be one of the big
things that he does, unfortunately.
If you were hoping to learn whathappened next, Psych, we're
going to cut back to the jumpingoff the bridge plot for the next
chapter, which is coming at you right now.

(07:28):
Chapter 14. In the dark waters, the barge
man's terror, the struggle for life saved at last.
Down, down with the folds of hislarge cloak, carried back from
his shoulders by the wind, caused in his descent from the
bridge, down like an arrow into the bosom of the black, though

(07:49):
now smooth, waters of the Thames, went spring, heeled Jack
after the wretched girl whose grief had led her to make an
attempt upon her life. With a loud plash the waters
closed over his form, burying him in darkness for a few
seconds, during which time he experienced a painful sensation
of suffocation, the terrific height from which he had jumped

(08:09):
depriving him almost of his breath.
There he reached the surface of the river.
Then he felt himself lifted up. In the next instant he perceived
above him a black mass, dotted here and there with a faint
glimmering light, which momentarily grew brighter as his
eyes became accustomed to the gloom.
It was the bridge and the lamps thereon which had first met his

(08:29):
vision as he rose up out of the murky depths of the stream.
Consequently he had turned, or been forced, completely round,
either in his descent or ascent,and he instantly changed his
position and struck out vigorously.
He was sure of the direction in which the body of the
unfortunate girl would float, and as the tide was running
down, it would be carried towards the pool and the long

(08:51):
row of small craft which roaded anchor there.
Ghostly, indeed did the vessels look in that dim light, with
their dark hulls and bare masts,but Jack saw them not.
His anxious gaze swept around the black surface of the water
in search of her who had excitedhis pity.
His eyes growing accustomed to the blackness, he had little

(09:12):
difficulty in making out small objects at a considerable
distance. The boats moored to the wharfs,
rising and falling with the gentle undulations of the water,
the buoy rocking to and fro by the action of the stream, or the
shadow of any object on the shore, he knew in an instant,
and hence he was not deluded into the belief that either were
the form of Ellen floating alongto eternity.

(09:35):
His cloak greatly impeded his action, and once or twice he
essayed to release himself of it, but unable to do so, he
looked searchingly around, and kept himself almost in a
stationary position in the water.
She cannot have floated far out from the bridge, he muttered,
for I must have touched the water almost as soon as she did
herself. Poor thing, I fear she has
struck her head against an abutment and sank never to rise

(09:58):
any more, or else her frail formhas been driven beneath one of
the barges, and if so, there is little hope of saving her.
By heaven, I feel myself drawn forcibly toward them, He added,
striking out so as to place a greater distance between himself
and a couple of barges which laymoored opposite a Wharf on the
City side of the bridge, and against whose bows the waters

(10:18):
broke and parted as they rushed on towards the sea.
He had taken but a couple of strokes when a low, plaintive
cry floated to his ears, and he turned as quickly as possible in
the direction whence the sound had proceeded.
There, close to one of the barges, he could perceive the
head and arms as they were movedwildly about of a human being,
and despite the risk he knew he ran of being drawn under the

(10:40):
flat bottom of the barges, he struck boldly out for the poor
girl's side. It required little exertion on
his own part, for the strength of the current and the magnetic
influence exercised upon it by the vessels hurled him forward
with great velocity. 1/4 of a minute could not have elapsed
ere he was alongside the object of his search, and as he
frantically thrust forth his hand to seize one of her arms,

(11:02):
which now alone appeared above the surface, had vanished from
his gaze and grasp, and he was borne forward over the spot
whence the limb had disappeared close up under the bow of the
barge. Self preservation is the first
law of nature, and Jack could not be blamed if for the moment
now he forgot the poor girl and thought only of his own danger.
Another moment, and he must havebeen sucked down under the

(11:24):
bottom of the vessel, had he not, by a supreme exertion,
grasped at its side and drawn himself up onto it.
A task rendered more easy from the fact that the barge was
partially loaded and hence laid deep in the water, with his legs
dangling over the side and his feet within a foot of the
stream. He rested and panted for breath
for a few moments, taking advantage of the time so

(11:45):
occupied to search with his eyesfor any indication of the
whereabouts of Ellen, and to cutwith his penknife the silken
cords that secured his cloak, which had become knotted so
tightly as to defy all attempts to undo them.
This accomplished, he flung the garment from his shoulders into
the barge, and standing up upon its very edge, shaded his eyes
with his hand as if to concentrate his vision, and

(12:07):
peered down into the dark streamwhile he strained every nerve to
catch the faintest sound. Again that low cry, so low that
it might have been mistaken for the sighing of the wind or the
murmur of the water beneath him,broke upon the night air.
This time it came from the otherend of the barge.
There, there, cried Jack, she isout there.
She has escaped the fate I had feared she met with.

(12:29):
Yes, tis her, tis her. He speed along the narrow side
of the vessel, heedless of the danger.
He ran in the darkness of falling into one of the half
emptied rooms of the barge, and was within a few feet of its
stern when a sudden apparition arose quickly before him and
caused him almost to fall backwards into the water.
It was the form of a tall, stout, rough looking man, who

(12:49):
seemed to have rose as if by magic from the deck, who now
stood confronting him, but who, as Jack recovered from his
sudden surprise, fell back trembling before him.
For Devil. He shouted in a Husky tone, Not
a thief, but the devil. In an instant Jack saw who and
what the man was, and the cause of his sudden appearance and now
trembling agitation. He knew that he had to watch the

(13:12):
barges and protect them from thethieving proclivities of certain
gentlemen who had a penchant forappropriating any little article
not too heavy to carry away to their own use.
And believing that he had caughtone of them on board the craft
where he was lying in wait, had sprung forward with the
intention of arresting him. But catching a glimpse of the
hideous mask Jack wore had foundhis courage desert him,

(13:35):
imagining in the sudden shock hereceived that he had confronted
the devil. He was one of those rough
reared, powerful built men, witha sort of brute courage which
would lead him to face anything human, but of that ignorant,
superstitious mind that was ready to acknowledge on the
instant the existence of anything superhuman.
Not having the sense to imagine before, he leaped to
conclusions, the moment his eyesrested on Jack's mask.

(13:58):
He had come to the conclusion that he stood in the presence of
a superhuman being, and a terrorso great seized upon him that he
retreated hurriedly towards the very edge of the stern of the
barge. Jack saw the man's danger, and
stretched forth his hand to savehim.
But the poor fellow, fearful of his touch, started backward, and
with a cry of horror fell backward off the barge into the
river. With a cry.

(14:19):
Which echoed that of the man, and mingled with the loud plash
of the waters as the poor fellowsank within them.
Jack sprang forward and gazed down upon the spot where he had
disappeared. Curse the mask, cried Jack,
tearing it from his face and thrusting it savagely into the
pocket of his saturated coat. Curse the.
Mask, I say. It has indeed played the devil
tonight, but the girl to girl, Ihad forgotten her.

(14:41):
The fellow will no doubt be ableto save himself.
He was about to spring off the barge into the stream, when the
man rose to the surface with a loud, despairing shriek, which
caused Jack to hesitate in his purpose.
As the man rose higher up out ofthe water, Jack saw that his
movements were Hanford, and thathe was endeavouring to shake off
some object which clung to his neck.
Shriek after shriek broke from the man's lips and echoed from

(15:04):
shore to shore, and the next instant our hero's heart bounded
with joy as he perceived that the arms of Ellen Folder
encircled the neck of the affrighted man.
For God's sake, don't shake her off, cried Jack.
Don't shake her off. But the man only struggled the
more to release himself. Fool.
Cried Jack, enraged, as he kneltdown the edge of the barge, and
bending over it, stretched forthhis hand with the intention of

(15:26):
aiding the man in his birth and up onto the vessel.
Would you sacrifice the life of a woman to your terrors?
Either the man did not hear or paid no heed to his words, for
he succeeded in releasing the hold of Ellen from his neck, and
like a stone she instantly disappeared in the river,
insensible to everything in a dying grasp.
She had clutched at the neck of the man as she sank in the

(15:47):
water, and had been drawn up by him to the surface when he
arose. Such a circumstance would no
doubt have given a sudden shock to the bravest man, when,
unexpected as it was in the caseof the barge man, and the man's
terror may well be accounted forwhen he was naturally of an
illiterate and superstitious nature.
It was the last despairing yet unknown action of the poor girl.

(16:08):
That grasp she made at his neck,and redoubled the terror which
the sight of Jack's mask had already inflicted.
The thought that he might save alife never for an instant
entered his mind. He only thought of losing his
own. As Ellen again disappeared.
Jack gave vent to an exclamationof disgust and horror, and in
his indignation he struck at thefellow as he frantically grasped

(16:29):
the cable which moored the bargein the river and caused him to
relax his hold, and once more disappeared beneath the surface.
Without waiting to think what might be the consequences of his
act, Jack sprang from off the barge into the water, and
succeeded in grasping at the form of the poor and sensible
girl, as the undercurrent was bearing her away.
He would have uttered an exclamation of joy had he dared

(16:50):
to open his mouth. However, his heartbeat with the
feeling as his left arm encircled her waist, and
together they shot upward to thesurface.
He had expected to rise just under the rope by which the
barge was moored. In this, however, he was
disappointed. As his anxious glance swept the
surface of the river, he found that himself and his insensible
burden had risen at least a dozen yards further toward the

(17:12):
center of the stream. The tide was now rapidly running
out, and Jack struggled hard to swim toward the barge.
This he found Hanford, as he wasby Ellen, to be a task
impossible, and he changed his course, hoping to being able to
reach the shore a little furtherdown.
There is No Fear of her struggling, he thought.
She is too far gone for that poor thing, so I need have No

(17:32):
Fear that any indiscreet action of her own may carry us both to
eternity. Yet every moment is precious,
and her life hangs now upon a thread.
Come, Jack, you have done enoughharm.
Now is your time to atone for it.
He shifted Ellen so as to renderher weight the more easy to
bear, and struck manfully out. For a time he seemed to get
along as he could wish, but the exertions of that night were

(17:54):
telling upon him, and every moment his strength sank lower
and lower, and the weight of thepoor seamstress became greater
and greater still. He struggled on, but the
strength of the current was too much even for his endurance.
His strokes became shorter, he labored more heavily, his frame
was exhausted in despair now took the place of hope.
Moments flew by, and on and on the swiftly running stream bore

(18:17):
Jack and his insensible berth, and nearer and nearer to the
lines of trading vessels, which every instant loomed up larger
and clearer to his anxious view.On past the wharves and barges
on, on, till faintness and exhaustion made every stroke of
work of such arduous labor that it seemed as if it must be the
last. On till with a cry of joy, Jack

(18:38):
perceived a small boat moored tothe stern of a small Collier,
which, with a cry of gratitude, he grasped at and thanked heaven
that they were saved. Now it's time to bring Jack in
for a landing. I have to admit, I actually
disliked this chapter pretty actively.

(18:59):
The problem is that whole guy isdrowning in the river.
I'm going to punch him because he didn't let someone climb on
his back and drag him down to drown thing.
I mean, I get that Springfield Jack is a kind of an antihero,
but he's being presented sympathetically and it's hard
for me to feel sympathy for someone who behaves so very
dishonorably. It's like when you're reading a
book and the main character up and rapes someone.

(19:22):
It's not quite that extreme, butI more than suspect that Jack is
now guilty of actual second degree murder, as opposed to the
accidental frightening to death of the ruffian in the tomb.
And I definitely relate a lot less to him after this.
Before the record, when the protagonist raped somebody, I
closed the book. I just don't take rides like
that. I don't need that kind of energy

(19:43):
in my life. But back to our commentary.
I'm also not sure that our author thought this through
super well. The guy dove into the river with
a mask on and came up with it still in place and ready to go
to frighten the barge man when the plot needed it to, you mean?
OK, I guess I'm willing to play along with that, but like most
people who wear glasses, I happen to know what happens to

(20:05):
stuff that's attached to your face when you jump in the lake
without remembering to put on croquis.
I had to really strain my disbelief suspension muscles for
this chapter. I guess that's all I've got for
this one, other than to observe one interesting thing, that the
whole poor fallen woman jumping off a bridge thing was
absolutely a pop culture thing for the mid Victorians.

(20:28):
Every reader in 1865 knew, or rather thought they knew, that
prostitutes always end up jumping in the river and
drowning themselves. The implication that a woman who
jumps off London Bridge, or morecommonly, Black Friars Bridge,
to her death was almost automatically assumed to be a
prostitute? Well, Ellen Folder is clearly
not a prostitute. But having her driven to the

(20:49):
same fate by a different form ofsocial cruelty?
Our author, who might have just finished slagging in pretty
harsh terms for this chapter, appears to be deliberately
subverting that trope. I need hardly tell you that I'm
100% here for that. Also, the man that tried to stop
Jack was specifically described as being a bravehearted fellow

(21:09):
whom want and poverty have diminished, but who is still
ready to step in and save her from quote, believing her to be
one of those unfortunate wretches whom some imagine
because they are fallen, may be insulted or outraged with
impunity. And yes, outraged is a synonym
for rape here. This is kind of heartwarming and
it inclines me to like Edward Coats because by having Ellen

(21:32):
Folder, the innocent seamstress who is apparently more than
pretty enough to make a good living as a prostitute, but has
resisted the temptation her wanton suffering daily places
before her. Having her attempt to end her
life in the manner that is more than any other, stereotyped as a
prostitutes inevitable fate. I suspect Edward Coats did that
on purpose and intended it to make a subtle point.

(21:55):
I know subtle Edward Coats don'tusually go together, but I think
he's doing it here. That working women are equally
valuable at an intrinsic level regardless of what work they do
and whether or not they have quote UN quote fallen.
That may be a modern kind of anachronistic reading of it, but
I'm enjoying it. So, you know, don't be a hater.
You might have noticed a similarstrain though, of humanistic

(22:17):
philosophy in some of Jack's earlier adventures, like the
scene where he saves Jane Slaterfrom the machinations of evil
Ralph Grasper. So yeah, I guess I like the cut
of our authors jib. I just wish that he had a little
more skill and finesse at his disposal.
But we work with what we got. In the next chapter.
We continue from where the last 1 ended.

(22:38):
At the little boat, 2 rough sailors take Ellen folder from
Jack and invite him to climb a board after them and join them
in a glass of grog. Instead.
Jack swims back to the barge to retrieve his cloak.
There's no sign of the barge guard and Jack hopes he has not
drowned. Then he's hailed by a trio of
river police. They, of course, are eager to

(22:58):
arrest him. Will they succeed?
There are three of them and he'sbeen swimming around all night.
He's got to be pretty worn out. We shall see.
Finally, What the hell is a gentfrom the Spice Islands?
Don't believe it? Well that cow says he's a gent
from the Spice Islands. Been studying botany of light.
It's a punning reference. One of the spices that was

(23:19):
brought in from the Spice Islands was Mace.
To Mace as a verb meant to cheator employ trickery in robbing
someone. To be on the Mace meant actively
working a swindle or earning a living by swindling, and a Mace
man was a swindler. So to say a guy was from the
Spice Islands meant that he was a Mace man on the Mace.

(23:39):
By the way, studying botany was a reference to Botany Bay in
Australia, which was where prisoners were transported to
after they were sentenced to transportation.
So a man that's been studying botany of late is somebody who
has been sent across the HerringPond, as they said, to serve a
sentence in Australia, with the implication that he has returned
early before serving his full time there.

(24:00):
This, of course, is the fate that Jane Slater's dumb husband
was courting when he forged that£50 note on Ralph Gasper's
account. Well, it's now time for us to
get on to our last dreadful of the evening, Rose Mortimer, or
the Ballet Girl's Revenge, by a writer who identifies himself
only as a comedian of the theater Royale, Drury Lane that

(24:22):
started publication in 1867. For this story, good old
Professor Flash is going to furnish us with the definitions
of all the Flash Can't words in the intro.
Remember those? I wished a tip top evening to
all you Flash coveses and graveltacks, collectors and Knights of
the brush and moon, inviting youto Stow your barking irons and

(24:43):
put up your pins and top off your flickers with clear blue
ruin. Sluice your ivories till they
shine and prick up your lugs forthe show.
I mentioned that the Diamond Squad call our stories Penny
Bloods, and I compared our stories to 1/4 or two of
straight old Tom. You know most if not all of
these already, but just in case,I'll unpack the lot at the end

(25:04):
of the story, courtesy of good old Professor Flash, friend of
the channel. You know, last time in Chapter 1
of Rose Mortimer, we opened on noble, virtuous young Rose being
physically accosted, apparently for dishonorable purposes, by a
debauched Parson. This was Abel Booth, an enemy of
Rose's father. She screamed and screamed, but

(25:26):
no one came. And just as it seemed she was
doomed to be ravished in the street, a handsome, bearded
gentleman stepped up and punchedAbel.
Out. This was Jack Halliday, a scene
painter at the Ballet Theater, where Rose had been trying
unsuccessfully to land a job. Jack and Abel snarled at each
other a bit, and Jack was ready to give him another couple of

(25:46):
Hertz doughnuts, but Rose beggedhim not to.
Unless he would be my ruin, do not strike him again.
Jack walked her home as Abel glared after them, cursing her
and swearing by all the devils in hell that she.
Shall yet be mine. Then in Chapter 2 of The curtain
went up on a new scene in Rose'shome which she shared with her

(26:07):
father, Hugh Mortimer. We learned that Hugh was a brute
and a criminal, specifically a forger of banknotes, and that
Abel Booth had something on him and could get him transported to
Australia at any time. We gathered he was holding back
because he wanted Rose. Her father was angry with Rose
for fleeing from him. Apparently she was supposed to

(26:28):
be cool with the whole rainy daySt. rape thing and yelled at her
for crying. I'll give you.
Something to cry about, that kind of thing.
Then someone showed up to visit and Rose's father ordered her
out of the room. The newcomer was a tall, dark
stranger with a fabulous mustache who we later learned
was Count Lerno. He was there to buy some forged

(26:49):
documents from Hugh, but Hugh tried to renege on their deal
and shake him down for more money.
This turned out to have been a mistake.
Count Lerno grabbed him by the throat, threatened him with a
revolver, threw him to the floor, and left the room with
all the banknotes, but paying him only half the agreed upon
some on his way out the door. You remember.
He locked eyes with Rose and stared wolfishly at her.

(27:11):
It was clear that he, like Abel Booth, was forming some sinister
carnal designs upon the lovely young thing.
What those designs might be we could easily guess, and we'll be
finding out for sure the detailsa couple chapters hence.
In the meantime, the situation with Abel Booth is building to a
crisis. Blood will flow tonight.

(27:32):
We'll learn all those. Details right after this short
break. Welcome back to the Penny
Dreadful Radio Hour. Now where were we?
Ah yes, queuing up Chapter 3 of Rose Mortimer the ballet Girl's

(27:56):
Revenge. Here we go.
Chapter 3 The poor girl's prayer.
The repulse, the mysteries behind the curtain.
The count again. A demon's smile.
Treachery, the spy, An awful night, a deed of blood.

(28:17):
The struggle a run for life WhenJack Halliday's muscular arm had
been called into requisition to protect Rose Mortimer from the
insults of the ruffian who had dared lay his hand upon her.
She was returning to the dismal,dreary house she called home,
after having spent many hours waiting in vain to see Mr.

(28:37):
Flathers, the well known manager, in the hope of
obtaining an engagement in the ballet for the forthcoming
pantomime. Again and again had she been to
that dark, grimy stage door, hoping and longing for the good
fortune of seeing the great man,and urging her suit upon the
afternoon of the day following her meeting with Jack Halliday,
she set forth yet once more to the theater and Hardris St.

(29:01):
A faint hope still buoyed her up.
Although repeated repulses had done much to crush her sanguine
nature, she found it hard to believe that one willing and
able to work might starve in thestreets of such a city as
London. Weary and faint for her, last
night's excitement had had a considerable effect upon her.
She arrived at that gloomy door through which so many passed,

(29:22):
thinly and slatternly clad to emerge upon the stage in all the
glories of muslin and spangles. Can I see Mr. Flathers?
She asked timidly of the stern doorkeeper.
I'm very sorry, my dear. He commenced, grinning from ear
to ear as he spoke. I'm very sorry.
But Miss Mortimer exclaimed someone behind her.
In a tone of surprise. She turned and confronted the

(29:45):
bearded artist Jack Halliday, who had come to her rescue so
opportunely on the previous evening.
Tremblingly she held out her hand to him, and a deep blush
overspread her beautiful face asshe remembered how greatly she
was indebted to him and how utterly incapable she was of
repaying him for his kindness toher.
Do you wish to see Mr. Flathers?He asked kindly.

(30:05):
Yes, Sir, I do indeed. Oh, if you could only persuade
him to give me an engagement, I fear I cannot undertake that,
but I can take you to him, and Iam sure that he would pay more
attention to a request from yourlips than mine.
Oh, thank you, thank you very much.
Follow me then. Take care how you go.
You see, Miss Moore, tomorrow I am in a very humble position
here myself, but anything I can do for you, take care of the

(30:28):
steps now and straight on. So saying, he piloted Rose
through all the intricacies of the mysterious region spoken of
as behind the scenes and conducted her safely to the
managers rooms. Mr. Flathers is particularly
engaged. Said a man who was lounging
about with a paper cap on his head and a pewter pot in his
hand. Jack Halliday turned to Rose.

(30:49):
I am sorry, Miss Mortimer, that you will have to wait, and still
more so that I cannot keep you company.
But I am late as it is, and we are very busy now preparing for
the pantomime. Oh, thank you very much for what
you have done. I cannot tell you how much I am
obliged to you. Then turning to the man, Jack
Halladay whispered some words tohim, at the same time slipping
something into his hand. This man, Miss Mortimer, will

(31:11):
show you into Mr. Flather's roomas soon as he is disengaged, and
believe me, I wish you success with all my heart.
So saying with a polite bow, he turned away, and soon
disappeared in the gloom. For nearly half an hour Rose
remained standing, looking at her dismal surroundings of black
beams, complicated machinery, and coarsely painted scenery,
and wondering how it was possible that what she saw could

(31:33):
ever look so bewitching from theother side of the float.
She was roused from her meditations by a hoarse voice,
which proceeded from the gentleman with the paper cap.
Myth. I say myth.
Yes, said Rose, turning around, supposing it to be herself who
was thus addressed. Mr. Flathers will see you now.
There's a gent with them, but I don't think you'll mind.

(31:54):
With a fast beating heart, Rose followed her horse guide into a
little close hot room, where, seated carelessly at a table
with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses by his side,
she beheld the theatrical king, Mr. Flathers.
There was another gentleman in the room when Rose entered, but
his back was towards the door and she could not see his face.

(32:14):
Hello, how did you come here? This was the young girl's
greeting, spoken in a harsh, rough voice, and with
unnecessary sharpness. I came, Sir, hoping that you
would give me an engagement at the theatre.
Oh, this sort of thing won't do.They shouldn't have let you in.
I can't be bothered by every woman who thinks she has a
dramatic genius. Poor Rose shrank abashed before

(32:36):
the words of the manager, and could not summon up courage to
answer him. Mr. Flathers looked at her and
could not fail to notice her extraordinary beauty.
Oh, what? Is it?
He asked in a somewhat softer tone.
Do you want to be a tragedy queen?
No, Sir, I I thought perhaps in the ballet, in the pantomime,
you might. All the vacancies were filled up
six weeks ago or anything, Sir. I would do my best.

(32:59):
Indeed I would. Very likely, said the manager
dryly. Oh, Sir, can't you find me some
employment? No.
Rose hid her face in her hands. Come, my good girl, we can't
have any whimpering here. You must clear out and the
sooner the better. As she raised her head, the
other occupant of the room, who had hitherto remained silent,

(33:20):
with his back towards her, turned round.
In an instant Rose recognized him.
He was her father's mysterious visitor of the previous night.
There could be no doubt of the matter.
There was the same handsome face, the same distinguished
manner, the same luxuriant mustache.
He started slightly when his eyes rested on her, but
otherwise gave no token of recognition.

(33:41):
What are you doing, Flathers? He said as Rose made her way to
the door. That girl's face is worth a
dozen of those frights you had last year.
Can't be helped Count the numbers made-up.
Well, what of that? Give one of them the sack.
Nonsense. You know I can't.
Though this conversation was carried on in a low tone, it
reached Rose's ears and she paused irresolutely.

(34:03):
I know you can if you like. You won't do it, my dear Count.
Take her on then to oblige me, Flathers.
It's very awkward. Not at all, it could easily be
arranged so. Miss, Miss, I beg your pardon,
but your name is Rose Mortimer, Sir.
Well then, Miss Mortimer, you come to rehearsal tomorrow, and
I'm sure my friend Flathers willbe delighted to see you.

(34:25):
Oh, thank you, Sir, thank you very much, stammered Rose and
her delight at this unexpected good fortune.
The Count smiled grimly. You are going home now, I
suppose, to tell your mother of your good fortune?
I have no mother, Sir, said Rose, and the tears rose in her
eyes. Are you an orphan?
I have a father. And his name?

(34:45):
Hugh, Sir. Hugh Mortimer.
A demoniacal smile again passed over the Count's face, but he
asked no further questions, but sat caressing his mustache,
while Rose again returned her. Thanks.
When the young girl left the manager's room, she found Jack
Halladay waiting for her outside.
There was no need for him to question her.
The bright smile which lit up her face was proof sufficient

(35:07):
that she had been successful, and the good hearted scene
painter took her little fingers in his big hand and
congratulated her warmly, willingly, in reply to his
questions she told him. All that had happened in the
interview. When she mentioned the count,
however, his face darkened and he clenched his first.
Beware of that man, he said. Beware of him.
In what way is a villain? Why, what has he done?

(35:30):
And Rose opened her beautiful eyes very wide.
I I cannot tell you, for I only suspect and mistrust him.
Surely you are unjust. He appeared to be very kind.
Jack Halliday made no reply, butconducted her back to the stage
door. It was late in the afternoon
when Rose reached her home. As she was about to enter the
house, the door opened silently,sufficiently wide to admit of a

(35:52):
man's egress. It was a tall, sanctimonious
looking person who came forth. His clothes were.
Black and of a clerical cut, hiswhite tie was dirty and tumbled,
and his face was bound up on oneside with a colored cotton
handkerchief. With a half suppressed cry Rose
started aside, for in him she recognized the scoundrel who had

(36:12):
assaulted her the night before. Shuddering, she shrank away as
if from a reptile. He did not see her, but pursued
his way, a grin of satisfaction making his face appear still
uglier than usual. No sooner had he passed than
Rose entered the house and hurried upstairs.
Father, father, she cried as sheentered the room.
What brought him here? What do you mean?

(36:34):
Asked Hugh Mortimer with an oath.
Abel Booth. He turned ghastly pale.
What do you mean, girl? Speak.
I saw him quit the house not a minute ago.
Hugh Mortimer grasped the edge of the rickety table and stared
vacantly before him. Then, suddenly rousing himself,
he sprang to his feet. Curse him 1000 Curses on his

(36:55):
prying, sneaking eyes. If he has seen.
Seen what, Father? Nothing, he said, letting his
head fall into his hands and groaning.
Rose. He added presently.
I have seen no one since you left the house this morning.
Are you positive of the man? I am, and that it was from our
door? He took his depard chair.

(37:15):
I could not be mistaken. Then we shall hear of his visit
another way. Before many days have elapsed.
Something must be done, something must be done.
But father, dear father, explainto me what is the cause of your
fear. In vain, however, did she appeal
to him. He waved her fiercely off when
she would have clung to him, andencircled his neck with his soft

(37:35):
white arms, mumbling unintelligibly to himself.
He paced to and fro in the little room, ever and Anon
wandering to the window and peering down into the silent and
deserted St. with a scared whiteface and bloodshot eyes.
The girl, crouching in a corner,dared not speak or move, lest
she should again rouse his displeasure.

(37:56):
And thus the weary hours passed,and night crept down upon the
city and filled the room with its shadows.
It was not till it was quite dark that she rose to her feet,
and was stealing away as noiselessly as possible, when
her father called out in a loud,terrified voice.
Who's there? Who's there?
Tis I father, replied the trembling girl.
You curses light on you. What do you want?

(38:17):
Stealing about like a thief? Are you in league with them?
Are you playing the spy upon me?By heaven, if I thought so.
As he spoke, he clutched her by the arm, his face distorted by
passion, his whole frame trembling with his rage.
Father, Father, she cried in terror, and raising her hands to
ward off a threatened blow, a blight upon your pale face and

(38:40):
smooth tongue, exclaimed the desperado.
It is your fault that it has allhappened.
It is your. Namby pamby modesty that brought
this evil upon me. His fingers tightened their hold
upon her arm till the pain almost made her shriek.
Father, you hurt my arm, she cried with a savage oath.
He shook her violently, and thenwith all his strength he hurled
her from him with a low, sobbingmoan.

(39:02):
She staggered and fell, and covering her face with her
hands, cried aloud in the anguish of her heart.
It was not the blow, though thatwas bad enough.
It was the cruelty which prompted it.
This was all she had ever known of home.
This the only parent she had to cling to through many long years
of penury and privation, and whom, brute though he was to

(39:23):
her, she yet dearly loved. I loved a suffering woman will
love till World's End, in spite of cruelty and neglect.
Leaving her unheeded, Hugh Mortimer returned to his post by
the window and stared down into the street.
The flickering of the uncertain light upon his face half LED her
to think she saw tears in his eyes.
Was he sorry for his harshness towards her?

(39:45):
Should she creep back to his side?
Suddenly, while Rose stood yet irresolute, he uttered a wild
cry, and with outstretched arm pointing to some object in the
street, screamed to her to come and look also.
Rose, hesitating no longer, sprang to his side and asked in
terrified accents what had happened.
He stood as if transfixed, his eyes glared wildly, his limbs

(40:06):
trembled. He regarded her not, but still
remained with outstretched hand.Staring in One Direction.
Rose looked toward the place to which he pointed.
Standing beneath the gaslamp on the other side of the way were
the figures of three men, thoughin the rapidly increasing
darkness Rose failed to recognize in them any cause for
alarm. Presently the lamp was lit and a

(40:27):
glare was thrown full upon the upturned face of one of the
trio. Rose turned ghastly pale.
Abel Booth, she exclaimed. Yes, cried her father fiercely,
Abel Booth. But this night's work shall be
his last. He has signed his own death
warrant. Father, do not talk so wildly,
said Rose. Are you there?

(40:48):
Get to your room, do you hear? Oh, what does this mean, Father?
Listen to me, girl, he said suddenly, in an unusually gentle
tone. Go to your own room and
remember, whatever you may hear during the night, remain there.
What dreadful thing is this? Oh, do not look at me in that
way. It means that this very night,
and in this very room, Abel Booth and I will play a game,

(41:11):
and the stakes we play for will be life.
Rose lifted up her hands imploringly.
Hugh Mortimer took no notice of her gesture.
Carefully he removed a plank from the flooring of the room,
and took from a place of concealment a large old
fashioned pistol. To your room, girl, he cried
fiercely, pointing the muzzle towards her.
If you stir outside the door till broad daylight tomorrow

(41:33):
morning, your blood will be uponyour own head.
Slowly and sadly she turned and quitted the room.
In the excited state in which her father was, she knew that
words would only aggravate him. She knew but too well the savage
fits of frenzy to which he at times gave way.
Trembling, she left the room andsought her own apartment, which
was immediately overhead. Silent and motionless, she

(41:56):
remained in the cold, listening eagerly to the faintest sounds
which reached her from below. That some terrible calamity was
hanging over her father, she gathered from his words.
That some terrible scene would be enacted in the room below her
she had little doubt. What was this terrible influence
which Abel Booth exerted over her father?

(42:16):
She herself dreaded and dislikedhim.
But it was evident that some stronger feelings moved Hugh
Mortimer. It was quite dark.
Even the faint glimmer of the street lamps was shrouded in
thick fog. It was bitterly cold, and Rose
could hardly keep her teeth fromchattering.
To go to bed with such a presentiment of evil was an
impossibility. Rose took all the warm things

(42:39):
she could find and wrapped herself in them, and sat down to
watch and wait. The chimes from a neighboring
church steeple smote every quarter of an hour upon her
listening ear, but as yet no unusual sound had startled her.
She heard her father's step every now and then.
Below she heard sounds as if he were dragging about the scanty
furniture. Then there was a long silence.

(43:01):
A strong smell of burning arose after a while, and thin wreaths
of smoke came curling up throughthe flooring.
Had he set the house on fire? A thrill of terror passed
through her frame as this thought occurred to her.
She was high up at the top of the house.
There was no trap door. To fly downstairs with the lower
portion of the house in flames was an impossibility to cast

(43:21):
herself from the window with certain death, so alarmed did
she become was this thought momentarily took a stronger hold
upon her mind, that, heedless ofher father's warnings, she
rushed to the door, fully determined to descend the stairs
at all hazards. She turned the handle, but the
door did not open. She shook it with all her
strength. She pushed against it with all

(43:41):
her energy. It remained quite immovable.
It was locked on the outside. Large beads of perspiration
stood upon her forehead at the thought of the dreadful fate
that she believed awaited her. So terrified was she that it was
some time before she noticed that the smell of burning had
gone, and that the smoke no longer came up between the
chinks of the boards. He had not set the house on

(44:03):
fire, after all. What could he have been doing?
Why was she made prisoner? Who had locked the door?
Was it possible, she asked herself, that her father had
been destroying papers and the expectation that the house might
be searched? It was all a Riddle to her, only
to be cleared up by time. Again she settled herself to
wait patiently and listened for sounds from the room beneath.

(44:25):
The chimes from the church steeple sounded again and again,
but although it was past midnight, nothing out of the
common had. Occurred wearied with.
Waiting and exhausted with fatigue and excitement, she sank
into an uneasy doze, from which she was suddenly awakened by the
sound of voices. She started to her feet and
listened intently. The voices came from the street.

(44:46):
She ran to the window, opened it, and looked out.
The fog had partly cleared away,and she could just distinguish
the forms of three men standing together at the door of the
house. Open, said one.
Open the door there. There was no reply.
Hugh Mortimer was silent, and Rose did not dare speak.
Open, or it will be the worst for you, I say.

(45:09):
Still there was no reply. Then Rose heard a low whispered
conversation between the three. Then a crowbar was produced, and
Rose heard the crazy door give way.
In a moment the three men entered the house 1 after the
other. Rose hardly dared breathe, for
she knew the crisis was at hand.A dreadful longing to know the

(45:29):
worst took possession of her. She lay down upon the floor so
that her ear might catch the slightest sound.
There was a slight movement in the room beneath which told her
that her father was on the alert.
In the few minutes she lay in, this attitude seemed ours to
her. There was a sound of more
whispering than a fierce oath from her father, the report of a
pistol, a shriek of pain and terror, a cry of some creature

(45:53):
in the agonies of death, hurried, without a moment's
warning, into the presence of his Maker.
Rose shuddered. Who was it that had met with
this dreadful fate? Who was it that had uttered that
death shriek in the stilly night?
Was her father the victim, or was he the murderer?
After a silence of only a few minutes duration, there was the
sound of a heavy fall, and then the noise of scuffling and

(46:13):
fighting. Eagerly Rose listened to learn
from the sounds, if possible. Who was the victor?
She fancied she heard her father's voice.
In a tone of pitiful supplication.
She rose and ran to the door of her room, for she felt she could
not stand this horrid certainty any longer.
She must go and aid her father, her poor aged father, who is
struggling against such fearful odds.

(46:35):
Poor girl. She did not remember that the
door of her room had been fastened on the outside.
She threw herself violently against it, as if her fragile
form was sufficient to break it down.
She strove to smash the lock with the poker, but without
success. What could she do as a prisoner?
She stood in her own room while the sounds of the struggle
beneath her grew louder and louder.

(46:57):
She felt sure that in the tumultshe could distinguish her
father's voice. Then came a low, deep, gasping
moan and a heavy fall. And after that silence, the
solemn stillness was even more awful to bear than the sound of
the scuffle. Suddenly an idea occurred to
Rose. Seizing the fire irons, she
forced up a part of the old and rotten floor, but her heartbeat

(47:18):
so violently at the thought of the horrors which might meet her
eyes when she saw into the lowerroom, that for some minutes she
could not go on with the task. Presently recovering herself,
she set to work and carefully scraped away sufficient plaster
to enable her to peer down into the Chamber of Mystery.
She could see nothing. She listened intently, but there
was no sound to tell of any living creature being there.

(47:40):
In her eagerness to see more of that dreadful room, she leaned
forward, forgetting that the lath and plaster were far too
weak to support her. She felt them bulge with her
weight. They yielded more and more.
She struggled to reach the beam which supported the flooring,
but with a loud crash the ceiling gave way beneath her and
she fell into the room beneath. For some little time she lay

(48:01):
stunned and insensible, but after a few minutes she revived,
bruised and unhurt, but happily without any serious injury.
She rose to her feet and gazed fearfully around.
The scanty furniture of the roomhad all been piled up before the
door to make a barricade. It was covered with blood.
Great pools lay on the floor, while in three places a hand

(48:22):
literally soaking with blood hadbeen pressed against the white
plaster of the walls. A sickening horror came over
Rose. The room appeared to be turning
round with her. All color deserted her cheeks,
her limbs trembled so that she could hardly move just then.
We're born towards her The chimes from the church steeple.
It was 3:00 in the morning. No one, living or dead, was to

(48:43):
be seen. The room was deserted, and save
for the telltale blood, Rose would have been inclined to
believe the whole of the struggle.
But a fever wrought phantom of her brain.
Could it be fancy? As her eyes roamed about the
Chamber of crime, she thought she heard a low chuckling laugh.
She paused and listened. It was not a good, cheery,

(49:06):
wholesome laugh, but a low, quiet, demoniacal chuckle.
Whence did it proceed? There was no one near her.
Suddenly, raising her eyes, she saw, peering through the hole
which she had made in the ceiling, the hated face of her
assailant on the previous night,when Jack Halliday had so
bravely come to her rescue. Abel Booth.

(49:27):
Her cheek blanched and her lips quivered as she spoke the name.
At your service, my dear, said the man, laughing.
Did you think to escape me? Rose was too frightened to
reply. Isn't it nice, my pretty one,
said the ruffian. We've got the house all to
ourselves, and no nasty scene painter can come here to spoil

(49:47):
our lovemaking. Ah, my beauty, you will have to
listen to me whether you like itor not.
Rose shrank as far away as she could.
Abel Booth noticed the movement and laughed.
Don't be frightened, my dear. People always like me when they
know me well enough. What have you done with my
father? Asked the poor girl, her anxiety
getting the better of her alarm.What will you give me if I tell

(50:11):
you I have nothing to give? Oh, yes, you have.
A kiss from those pretty lips would be reward for a king.
Rose shuddered. I tell you what, Miss Rose, if I
am at your side, I can talk to you a deal better than up here
peeping down at you like a bird in a cage.
So I shall just come down. Did you come through this hole?

(50:34):
Lord, how nice you must have looked at coming through.
I wish I'd been there to see you.
As he spoke, Rose saw that he was about to put his threat into
execution and swing himself downinto the room where she was.
With a cry of terror she darted to the barricade which still
blocked up the doorway. Hastily she scrambled to the top
just as Abel Booth dropped into the room.

(50:54):
The young girl darted through the doorway, and the ruffian
sprang after her with an explanation of baffled rage.
She had but a short start, but fear to her feet lent wings, and
she ran on, knowing that her only chance of safety lay in
flight. In wild alarm she flew down the
stairs, dragged open the street door, and rushed into the
street. She heard her pursuer's

(51:15):
footsteps close behind her, and at every moment she expected to
feel his hand upon her shoulder.Half fainting with fatigue and
fear, she still ran on and paused.
Not until, her strength utterly failing her, she was fain to
cling to a doorpost to save herself from falling.
As she did, the surrounding objects seem to dance confusedly

(51:35):
before her. A dark cloud fell over her eyes
and she sank down in a death like swoon.
So we start this chapter out with Rose getting the job she
needs to get the hell out of herfather's squalid flop.
Just in time, too. Hooray.
But she owes her position to Count Lerno, who we have some

(51:56):
reason to believe is a dangerouscriminal and a sexual predator.
That's not great for Rose. It's pretty good for us, though,
because we can be pretty sure some interesting developments
will ensue. But will she live to see her
first day on the job, even? Because apparently there's a big
old gangland showdown happening at home, Her father is getting
an old flintlock out of the hidden cupboard and cursing at

(52:20):
her for her namby pamby modesty,which has, it seems, gotten him
in trouble with Abel Booth. So I'm a little suspicious of
Hugh Mortimer. Not just because he's a
criminal, but I remember back inChapter 2 we learned that Rose
vaguely remembers being surrounded by fancy tofs and
spiffy clothes, but thinking shemust have dreamed it.
Now this guy who claims to be her actual father is wanting her

(52:43):
to get out there and shake her money maker and pull up her
petticoats and put out for the creepiest Parson in London
brokering his daughter's virgin virtue as a blackmail payment
like it's no big deal. I'm being deliberately harsh and
crude here, hopefully to reinforce the point that this is
not natural father behavior, this is wicked stepfather

(53:04):
action. Add into that the Super common
narrative trope of unrecognized heirs and power in the blood
type narratives that are one of the most popular tropes in
English storytelling, and I would argue that the tradition
is the worst for it. But all the way up from the
peasant Theodore in the castle of Otranto, all the way up to
the modern day to the muggle child Harry Potter, we have

(53:27):
these unrecognized heirs. I'm just ready to lay down a
pretty beefy bet that Rose Mortimer is one of them, the
stolen daughter of some noble family.
We'll see. We'll find out together.
Because remember, I'm only 1 chapter ahead of you in this
book. Here's another interesting
point. Rose falls through the floor,
trying to peep into the room below.

(53:47):
Had she not done so, Abel Booth would have been able to stroll
right into her bedroom. It was locked on the outside,
but apparently he either had a key or her father had left one
in the door, possibly so that hecould get in easily.
At that point, she'd be trapped in the room with him and he
could work his wheel upon her. Did her father set that up or
did Abel kill her father and figure it out?

(54:08):
I mean, maybe that was what he was up to when he was spying in
the house scoping out Rosa's bedroom.
It would be interesting to know coming attractions for the next
chapter of this. Book.
Oh boy, it just gets. Juicier and juicier.
In Chapter 4, we'll open on Count Laerno in his Laerno.
See what I did there? Sorry about that.
I'll continue anyway. Yeah, there he is in his drawing

(54:29):
room. I guess you could call that his
lair. The count we learned came to
England two years ago. Nobody knows from whence, but
he's handsome, He's well bred and rich, or at least he seems
such. And he throws great gambling
parties. So he's been accepted into high
society. And tonight we see him in formal
evening dress in his drawing room, getting ready for one of
those parties by steaming open some packs of playing cards so

(54:53):
that he can mark the backs and reseal them and present them as
new and untouched. You know, like you do.
Then we cut to the party that night.
He's hosting a number of nobles and notables, including one
Captain Roper, a horse owner whowas slightly suspected of having
maybe thrown a race in which a horse he owned was running,

(55:14):
which the horse probably should have.
Won but did not. Nobody could prove anything, and
everyone is giving him the benefit of the doubt, but that
was a thing. Also, there's a young baronet
there named Sir Harold King. As the evening progresses, we
observe that Sir Harold, who just inherited a fortune, is the
mark who is being fleeced, and we more than suspect that

(55:34):
Captain Roper and Count Lerno are in cahoots to do it.
But Captain Roper overdoes it rather, and Sir Harold gets
suspicious and starts watching him closely.
Will the deception be detected? If it is, what will Sir Harold
do? The wall in the room is covered
with swords and pistols, all loaded and ready to go.
According to Count Lerno. It seems like the kind of
situation that won't end well. It won't, but you'll have to

(55:58):
wait till next time to get the details.
Finally, let's unpack our Flash Can't lesson.
I wished you a tip top evening to you.
Flash Cove Esses, Gravel Tax Collectors and Nights of the
Brush and Moon invited you to Stow your barking irons and put
up your pins and top off your flickers with clear blue ruin.
Sluice your ivories till they shine and prick up your lugs for

(56:18):
the show. I mentioned the Diamond squad
that calls our stories Penny Bloods and compared our stories
to 1/4 or two of straight Old Tom.
Flash Cove Esses are the female version of Flash Coves, which
are kind of minor criminal Gentry, landlords of rookeries,
keepers of shops where stolen goods are fenced that.
Kind of thing. The gravel tax is what you pay

(56:39):
when a kind and friendly officerof the highway presents the
muzzle of a 58 caliber flintlockfor your personal inspection and
invites you to stand and deliver.
Basically a gravel tax collectoris a highway robber and the
gravel tax is 100%. Now if you are either one of
those things, a flash coves or agravel tacks collector, you're

(57:00):
probably pretty good with a brace of barking irons that is
pistols. So put those away, put up your
pins, which is legs, and top offyour flickers which are glasses
with clear blue ruin. And you sure know what that is.
And you know what sluicing your ivories is too.
I'm sure drinking a big gulp from your glass of gin.
The Diamond Squad is a referenceto the fancy Tofs and landed

(57:21):
Gentry types. 1/4 is 1/4 pint Imperial pint, so about 5 oz.
Two of those would about do the job for most of us.
And Old Tom, of course, is high grade gin.
That concludes this episode of the weekly Penny Dreadful Radio
Hour. I hope you will join me again
next week. Same spring healed time, same
spring healed channel for our next show.

(57:42):
Next up on the program, we've got Chapter 3 of Mysteries of
London and Chapter 53 of SweeneyTodd coming at you.
In the Mysteries of London, we cut to our youth having
determined on a desperate attempt to flee the house.
We see him slide up the window to see if the ruffians are
looking, and that is when one ofthem spotted him.
As you'll recall from our last chapter, the youth knows he must

(58:04):
flee for his life, but his legs refuse their office and he
faints upon the floor. When he awakes, he is being
carried by the two ruffians downthe stairs.
What will they do with him? Can he escape from their
clutches? We shall see.
In Sweeney Todd, Johanna Johannais an odd character.
She seems to alternate between being the most pathetic,

(58:24):
hopeless, contemptible love fooland the most resourceful, cool
headed woman in London. When the chapter starts, she's
in hardcore love fool mode, maudlin and overwrought,
wallowing in self pity, and is nearly unbearable even for her
best friend Arabella. Arabella suggests they go for a
walk. Johanna insists that it be in
Fleet Street and that they walk back and forth past Sweeney

(58:47):
Todd's shop door multiple times,stopping along the way to stare
at it. So of course he notices them.
All that plus more flash. Can't.
Words are coming your way in three nights this Saturday Eve.
Our new new theme music is a version of Golden Slippers, A
minstrel show song written by James A Bland in 1879.

(59:07):
This version is by Seattle old time band $4.00 Shoe.
For more of their music, see thenumber 4, dollarshoe.com.
The Penny Dreadful Story Hour isa creation of Pulp Lit
Productions. For a few more details, a few
more details I really need to update the website, look to
pulp-lit.com and to get in touchwith me, hit me up at

(59:29):
finn@pulp-lit.com. Thanks again for joining me
Pippins. It's time for us to tip our
blessed rags A gallop for the Penny Dreadful Radio Hour.
I'm Finn JD John signing off nowfair 4th and fill up the rest of
the week with stuff that makes you cock your leg and cry sugar.
Bye now.

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2.02: The evil parson makes his move. — Spring-heel'd Jack's plunge in the black river!

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.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}2.02: The evil parson makes his move. — Spring-heel'd Jack's plunge in the black river!