JENNY BROWN, BURGLAR

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXVI, Issue 5294, 4 June 1904, Page 11

JENNY BROWN, BURGLAR

(By Geo. It, Siins.) Ti;e iiieuicitl man who held tho office of *uri»li u /ocor al Uuo ol the pauuial woriilioiut'S ;u iho -North-west district ot Koudou nad frankly answered a question uus to him hy a i>iutout in the inliniiaty. I’h * iiouent \v«i a jMiwerfully-built man oi nbouL tir.y-fitc. ills fcnzz.-d head was tiidl ol a jji’ili'*or, hut there tv as a lioeiu.eas in uie lectures ilmL one does not as .ociato vviih the buildog ot t *Tha ll man had been brought in lato one* uichti by she polieo. who had tound him Ivi a m a sc mi-con scions condition i.galr.al cho railings of a church in tho UJjgnbmirhood. t , ~ In iho old davs they pronably would have taken him to tho police-staton e i erod inn ns drunk and incafiublo. and put ii.jn in a cell, but there had l>eon ; 0 i,, a ,,y eases of illness mistaken ior dnin’konuisa, and the romaiks of tho Press after the inquest had taai to severe, .lid the order had gone forth tor ti e ixiiice when in doubt to take a case to the workhouse infirmary, 'the parish doc or was seni for i.i.nied.ately after this man had boon admitted, and after u rapid examination pronounced the case to be one of nc-rious oharaccer, and tho man was put to bed. . In the morning ho had so far recovered as to lio a die to give his name as James lirr.wn When asked for his address ho said that ho hadn’t one. He had been connected with a travelling show, and was out of employment, tie had dime to Kjudou to see if Ro could get anything to do, and hud token ill in tho street. Tho illness from winch he was suttermg was a serious one) The man got rapidly Worse, and made tip his mind that he was. as lie put it, "booked." „ ■ . One morning when the doctor came to see him ho put_ the question bluntly, ‘■Am X going to die?” ... •, ••Well. I suppose so—some day, said the doctor, kindly. ‘•l’d bo glad if you’d toll mo straight, sir,” said the man, “hcoaua > if Tin booked there’s somebody as I’d hko to send for t) see me. If I’m going to get well. I won’t trouble ’em." “Send tor your friend,” said the doctor. James Brown looked up at tho doctor wiih something on his grim features that was intended for a smile. _ "Thank’ce, doctor,’ he said; ‘l’ll send f>r my ITieutl aL ouco/ That afteni. on a young woman of fivc-ancl-tweutv called at tho workhouse. She had come‘iu response to a message to see James Brown. She wa> very neatly dressed and wore a veil which somewhat concealed her fea. lures, but hy the bedside she put it up and the nurse saw that she was a very handsome specimen of y 3uu' English womanhood. •‘She was a country girl, I eh'-nld think," said tho nur-e when she told tho doctor afterwards of James Brown's visitor. "She was a very line, strong-looking ym.mg woman, rather a 'manny' sort of gh l I should say." What transpired at tho interview was not intended for ft third person to hear, go the visitor took a chair by the sick man’s bed and spoke to him in a low tone. "I’m sorry you're s> bad, father/' said tho young woman. ‘T wondered what had become of you, and got quite nervous. I was afraid you'd been taken, but I looked in the papers,evaiy day and didn’t see anything, ‘‘l'd ha* sent to you before, Jenny, but X was a bit afraid. I didn't know whether the Tecs had been ivmnd ano spotted mo. You know they always go aud have a look round tho workhouses since our chaps have taken to hide in 'em. So I said I was from the country. I was afraid perhaps my sending to you might put 'era on the kcent. Buc I had to send at last when tho dp-ctor told me it was all up." "They won't. find anything, father, if they go. I was sure something had happened, so I put tho stuff away where they're never like to find it." "And you hid tho tools?" "Yes, father; I took them round to Aunt Grace's."

“That's right, Jenny. No one ain't ever likely to suspect her. poor old soul. But. my dear, when I'm goa©, I hope you'll settle down respectable. You're o nice girl, and some decent young fellow 'uli come along aud marry you. Till then you'd better live with Aunt Grace." "Yea, father." 'T can't talk ranch more, lass. I'm as weak as a rat, I dont' suppose I shall see much more of you." “T may see you every day. they say." “Do they? That's kind of 'em; but there ain’t many more days for mo. Fra sorry to go,. for yi>ur sake. ‘ I've never been cross to you have I, Jenny?"

. “No,, father, never." “It was wrong of me to take you about in my business, Jenny, but you seemed to take to it ever since you was little And after all, it’s the way. as I was brought up to earn my living. But you won't go on that lay any more, will you. Jenny?"

“No, father. I did it for you, but I wouldn't for anybody else." ‘"That's right. And now, good-hyo. my dear, t shall look for you to-morrow.'*

“I'll come. Good-bve. father; nnd don't fr©t about me, I shall be all right." The girl stopped and kissed tho old man gently; then brushing tho tears from her eyes, she left the infirmary. The nurse followed her.

<r Ts he really dying?" asked the girl. Tho nurse nodded her head. “The doctor says S3;,but ho may last a day or two yet, unless, of course, the change comes.'" The sick man saw his visitor again tho next day, but ho was much weaker. He could only press her hand and murmur a few words.

The day after that when she called ho woa insensible. She was permitted to remain until lato in the night, when the end came. She broke down at the first but soon recovered herself, and told the nurse that she would com© in the morning and ai*range about the funeral. When she came the following day certain papers were given her to sign before the body was mad© over to her. She signed her name as “Jenny Brown," and described herself as tho dead man’s daughter. James Brown was not buried as a pauper.

Aunt Grace had three roojus in a little house in a side street in a rather shady neighbourhood. Some of the neighbours Were respectable enough, but some of them were '‘known to the police/' But Aunt Grace had lived there a goad many years, and she was old and didn't want to ttiovq. . She had a pension from the firm in the city where she had lived as housekeeper for a good many years, and being loft a widow without encumbrances while Very young, she had saved her salary and her Christmas boxes, and so when she retired she had enough to live on modestly for the rest of her days- ’ She had never been very friendly with her brother after she discovered he was earning his living dishonestly- But she had always, liked Jenny, air* had grieved ovnr the fact that she wa* gr>wmg up with a father who wap a criminal. When Tame ß Brown, a clever smith in his yminver days, got' into bac. company after bis wife's death- 4 and t/v to r<rof?s < »’0 T ’al burglary. Aunt tr T °' to g«t .lonur to co’"c and live with bn<- the burglar bis the dangliter loved hci -fa'liar, ana rcMs t;Jeave him. But ,sh-. r-a'me tc Aupr Groce once fc’ three rears. , Tha was while h*r fVher was «n d * r goinn- a term of impr , Directly ho ca ' e out Jenny rornrnen to him, much tp the grief of Aunt GraceAunt Grace's grief would have heen intensified had she known that assisting her father in his profeasionaJ ventures. James Brown got P u £ that three years through the treachery, a colleague, a voung fellow wno ‘w® n T with him. and assisted him in breaking into houses and carrying off the doo». . _ After that he worked single-handed he discovered that Jenny had grovn I into'a strong, agile, nlblctic girl. »r«d tlial

dressed in boy's clothes she la>ked exact, iy like one. Then the burglar took his daughter into his confidence and they went out together. He iosiTiicied her in the arts ana mysteries of his calling, and Jenny soon became a.i expert as ho was himself, and being a good deal more active and light handed she was invaluable to him.

The old burglar was very proud of hia daughter, and told her so. Once, in a moment of enthusiasm, he told her she was tho cleverest hand at the game he had over met, and that lie was sure she could do a job single-handed in a way that would put the smartest cracksman to shame.

Tho remarkable thing about this young girl brought up to a criminal calling by a criminal lather was that though she was hold as a lion when engaged in “business," she was in her hmio life gentle and womanly. She had taken to the adventurous life of burglary in much tho same spirit that errand boys imbued with cheap romance take to highway robbery and such ‘’piracy' as the absence of “the high seas'' in ihcir immediate neighbourhood permits them.

She would have gone anywhere with, her iacaor. Bat she had no desire to ho dishonest ou her own account. When her father praised her she was happy. If she bungled over a job she was miserable. Her professional pride was hurt. James Brown never carelo.-sly risked his daughter's liberty. Ho was much more careful after she became his assistant than he had been before. He thought out his jobs and took elaborate precautions. Being on the police books he had to fie extra cautious. Once or twice ‘Scotland Yard had its suspicions, and tho detective: were unpleasant in their attentions, but the old burglar never gave thorn a chance of bringing a job home to him. Answering xho questions of tho officer who came to inquire a 5 i-y his whereabouts ou a certain night, he allowed it to bo seen that he was indignant. “I’ve given'that sort of game up," ho said. “My daughter's growing up, and sho’s a good girl, and I've taken to honest ways for her sake. So don't you (Dino raking up' my past and giving mo away before my girl."

‘The officer saw Jeuny Brown, and thought sho was. a nice, ladylike girl, much too nlco to nave an “old lag" for a father. He failed entirely to bring auything home to Brown, and ho didn't In üble him again. He was the more easily persuaded of Brown’s innocence by the fact that (ho burglary wh»ch the Yard was investigating bore “marks," with which they w©re unfamiliar. There had been two or three burglaries in’the sa.no district lately which bore those “marks’ or ‘’handwriting," as tho police call it. But they were certainly new and not to bo credited bo any of the old professional hands. The p>lico can often identify the handiwork of a professional buiglar by the methods emiDloyed in effecting an entrance and by other signs whicti the burglar leaves behind him. The new marks-wero of quite a different character from anything with which iho Yard was uc-. quainted, and tho Yard was puzzled. it did not occur to tho astute officer—how should it?—that the novelty was dne to the fact that a ymng woman had become an expert burglar. But Jenny Brown- was a burglar no longer. Her professional ambition had ceased at her father’s death. She loft the beautiful tools which had ' been her father’s pride packed up neatly in the small Gladstone bag in which she had moved them to Aunt Grace's. She kept the bag locked away in the chest of drawers in her little bedroom.

They belonged to a period of her life which had passed for ever. But she didn’t care to part with them. if she had wislied to there were difficulties. A quiet and ladylike young woman cannot go about offering a complete set of up-to-date burglar's tools for sale. She was quite happy in the quiet life she lived with Aunt Grace. In the daytime she went to work at a dressmaker's, aud in the evening, she read to the old lady or busied herself about tho house. And Aunt Grace, who was growing old aud feeble, was very for the love and attention of her handsome niece. It was a happy life until one day Aunt Grace took 'to her bed. and the doctor whr> was sent for told Jenny that it was tho beginning of the end, and that the old lady would not get up again. Then Jenny had to give up her situation and stay at home and act as nurse. Now it happened that tho people on the top floor were in trouble. The man and his wife had been up at tho police-court over a drunken squabble, and the domestic revelations had not been edifying. The matter was settled by a fine, but it got into the papers, and a young curate, who was doing Christian work in the’ neighbourhood visiting tho sick and going about among the people, came to call up*>n the top-iher hoping to induce them to give up their ways. . ( He was well received by the wife in the absence of the hu band, ana he interested himself in the children, induced the mother to send them to Sunday school, and begged her to come to church, and, if possible, to bring her husband. One day the young curate hoard that an old lady was lying ill ou the ground fl or and po he tapped gently at the door and asked if he could be of any assistarce—.{f he might come and read to her. Jenny received tho young curate courteously and accepted his offer. She knew thal Aunt Grace would Tike it. So every clay the Rev. Arthur Farrington called and read tho Bible to Aunt Grace. Arthur Farrington was only eipht-and-twenty hud had never been in love. When he-did fall in love it was quickly and violently. He thought Jenny tho handsomest aud nicest giri h© had ever seen.

They chatted together when the reading was over, and presently the Roy. Arthur 1 arrington found himself looking in twice a day. _ _ When ho first discovered that he was in love with Jenny he went home to his lodgings, and talked the matter over seriously with himself. , , , ~ He had no relatives. Jenny had told him that her father \ and neither were dead and she had nobody bub Aunt Grace. He had mad© inquiries And ascertained that Aunt Grace had lived in the house for many years, had held a responsible position with a firm of City merchonts, and was much respected. There was no reason why he should not go ou being in love except dne— he was very p~or. Ho had nothing iu the world but his stipend as assistant curate of a church in a poor neighbourhood. But .Tenby had evidently not been accustomed to luxury. If she came to care for him he would not be taking her fiom wealth to share his poverty.

After thinking the matter out carefully and seeing Jenny twice a day for another week he went on being in love. Aunt Grace lived for two months after taking 'to her bed. When the funeral wa* over Jeuny came back to the lonely rooms and wandered what she would do. Arthur Farrintrfc'm came to say some words of comfort to her In her trouble, and when ihe girl down and sobbed, out hifi love. be l©f( Jenny, through her tears, had confessed that sho* had a sincere regard for him. and r,bf> told Idm sufficient tj> let Mm know that ho mfi-ht hop^. He bo"ed. and when the day* of monrnmr were nn«rod he Jenny if mared f‘y him in be hi? wife. .A *>d .T'*nrv jaid she did. Tfmn reHng what Jenny’s cirrumw—© and he- h--n’ *hr' f-* o nrr/1 * Av iff; V . r '■ 0.--A J-* -v V-rnn-n ‘ho Tfi’v 'rtMv h’-\Y VF it r.m- wHe. Jnnuv di ' ' f ' T o *rr.«e to f *ir* c’rr-tr quite a p -rti ralnss bri-ie. ?he bail t Id her be*roth*>d -ome ti"'© before the bapny event hat fhe had ,£'2oo pu- away, which her father bad left her. , This was perfectly true. The .£2OO had I'oeu removed by Jenny from the house when her father failed to return to it. It was iu banknotes, and had boen realised by the sale of certain valuable property which James Brown, with his daughter's assistance, had acquired by tho last successful burglaryJenuy had cot touched it. But now that she was gMng to he married to a clergyman she felt that she might us© it.

So =ho bought her trousseau and handed tue balance to her betrothed, and with it they to ,k a little house and iurn'sued it comfortably. That was all Mrs I’arrington brought to her husband—that and sonic few articles of personal property, among them a black Uladstono bag which she locked away in the chest of drawers—brought from her Aunt Grace’s—a chest which she reserved entirely to her own use. She would have got rid of that bag and it, contents gladly, hut it was even more difficult for tho affianced wife of a clergyman to sell a complete set of burglahs tools than it had been for Aunt Graces nieco. And she couldn’t leave them to be discovered by tho incoming tenant and handed over to the police. That would never have done.

The marriage was a very happy_ one. Jenny entered into all her husband s aspirations and helped aim with bis work. At bis request she went al/imt and interested herself in the poor of the parish, and became a great favourite. The vicar, who had at*first thought it very unwise of his poor assistant curate to marry, altered his opinion after ho had seen Airs Farrington, and she was well received at tho houses of the wealthier members of the congregation. • At one house she was an especial favourite. -the owner. Mx‘S Markham, was a wealthy lady who was much interested in parish work, and atoned for the sins of her husband, who had been a moneylender, by giving away vei\> respectable sums in charity. But this lady was also fond of display, and was not above dazzling tho poor ■ curate’s wife with her jewellery and her plate and her luxurious surroundings. For twelve months,tho assistant curate and his young wife lived in idyllic existeucc. 'JC’hen tho trouble came Ihe vicar gave up tho living and went u> another part of the country. The new vicar did not lake to his predecessor's curate or assistant curate. Tho situation became strained, and after a few months ol unpleasantness. Arthur Farrington fell senoudy ill. and lost his appointment at - tho same time. Fhe young couple had not been extravagant, but they had not been economical. Tho loss of his salary was a serious matter, especially as Mr Farrington was too ill to seek a fresh appointment. Tho domestic drama deepened into a domestic tragedy. One day Jenny found herself without resources, and with a sick husband whoso recovery depended entirely upon his having what the doctors call "every comfort." The comforts included expensive nourishment. Further than that the doctor had told her that as soon as he was able to bo moved her husband ought t> go to tho of France. That would probably complete his cure. If ho remained in England that winter he might become a permanent invalid. The situation was desperate. Sitting by the fire late at night watching her husband, who bad fallen into a hcavv‘sleep, Jenny considered what she could do. Then she remembered the black Gladstone bag and its contents, and memories of tho jewellery Mrs Markham had shown her floated before her eyes. Jenny knew from tho experience gained in the cld days where bit by bit jewellery could be safely disposed of at about half its market able value. She knew Mrs Markham's house—she had visited it a dozen times. She know the bedroom, and where Mrs Markham kept her jewellery. Jenny looked across at her husband. His life was at stake, and there was noprobability of any money coming to them till he was well again. Jenny unlocked the chest of drawers, took out tho Gladstone, and put it in tho next room. She went to the wardrobe and took the curate's clothes out. Then she turned the light low down.

In the dead of the night Jenny, dressed in her husband's clothes, an overcoat with tho collar turned *up concealing the clerical cut, unfastened the shutter and the window at the back of Mrs Markhams’ house, and entered nervously. She felt that she had undertaken a dangerous task, Sho missed her father. It was a risky thing to undertake a single-handed job after being out of practice for four years.

But her old skill had not deserted her. She made her way tc the dressing-room next to tlio bedroom, and found it locked. To turn the key from tho outside with the instrument she had handy was easy. She crept through the dressing-room into the bedroom, and reached the dressing-table, in a drawer of which she knew tho jewellery wap kept. ' i Mrs Markham was fast asleep. Jenny 07t the drawer open without making a sound, clutched the jewel case, and crept away out of the room with it. Downstairs*she put the jewels into her pocket, and left the case on the table. Then she made her way to the window by which sne nad enpicred and dropped into tho front garden—there was a big tree In front of the residence which had secured her from observation. She listened, and then turned the collar of her overcoat down to show the clerical band and tie. That was a precaution. No policeman seeing a clergyman about late would suspect him of being a burglar. When she could hear no sound or movement in the street she walked boldly across the grass plot -o the gate, opened it. and went out. Then,-as no one was in sight, she stepped out quickly. : She reached home safely, let herself in. and crept upstairs. Her husband was still asleep.

By the morning post there was a letter for the Rev. Mr Farrington. Jenny gave ’it'to him when she brought him a cup of tea.

He looked at her, and noticed she appeared fagged and weary. "You are ill, Jenny/* he said} "you.are wearing yourseii out for me.** "No dear/* she replied, '‘but I haven’t slept very well. That is all. Open your letter/*

Arthur Farrington opened tho letter, and a cheque for one hundred pounds dropped out of it. ' When he had recovered from his astonishment he read tho note.

"Bear Mr Farrington,—l have only today heard of tho great trouble you are in, dVill you let me lend you the enclosed till things improve? In tho meantime I have ■written to a rich frien* in Yorkshire who has a living at his disposal. It will bo vacant in a month. I have received a reply stating that on my recommendation the living is yours if you care to take it. It is J 3500 a year. "Yours in sincere sympathy with yourself and Mrs Barrington. Tlnry Markham/' Jenny Farrington Heard the letter road, and falling chair by tho bedside buried her face in ber hands. Then telling her husband she had to go out fr> see ab nt *ot"o household affairs sue rushed from the room. She mnrk the jewels sho bad stolen up into a email parcel. Then.?ho wont out to call on Mrs Markham to * her* k her personally fi>r her kindto her husband, Tho place was in confusion.' The servants were in a state of terror. The •-on p bed brrn hu , ?.!'-d ni the night, end M~B Markhnm'c ba I been len l>f{ in the ‘dining-room for a mo-uK-nt. ’dr? Fn.rri-rrr-v dt-prvd --ho parcel In o f ' ni*-o-o-r f 'he four bv '5... «irb-. b-ard _ F'V- --.mb r-.v? ’bon. th-:- -r?n e-nr—d it was wiM: a .voot.'.ff ■ int M*v MprV sm wa- very wh was examining the bedroom. Would Mr? Farrington call later in the day? *That afternoon Mrs Farrington called again. '•’Oh, my dear/’ exclaimed Mrs Markham, in a'state of great excitement, ‘T'v© had a most'merciful escape fnom ft terrible less. You beard about tho burglary? The man had secured my Jewellery and made it up in a parcel. H*» must have been interrupted or discovered after he got to the dining-room, for when the police went over the place to look for ‘mark?/

as they call it. they discovered the parcel of jewellery in the corner by tho sideboard. Wasn't it providential?" •‘Yes." replied the assistant curate’s wife gravely, ‘‘it was. My husband would say Providence had rewarded your noble act of charity to us." Mrs Markham shook her head and smiled.

*T don't think that, my dear; but it was a piece of good fortune, any way, and I'm very grateful."

The Rev. Arthur Farrington got better and went to the living in Yorkshire. And his wife went with him.

But before her 'departure she made a bundle of the contents of the black Gladstone bag, and went out one dark, bitter evening, and when she camo to a deserted part of the Embankment, dropped tho bundle over the parapet into tho Thames. —*‘Lloyd's."