A Thrilling Sketch
‘Mr. Robson, you are wanted over at the Bow street office immediately, sir,’ said my landlady to me one morning in the spring of 1806, just as I had arrived home after a tedious professional excursion into the country, and was pleasing myself with the anticipation of a day of rest
‘Curse the Bow street office,’ I muttered to myself, ‘what’s in the wind now? Is there no other officer that they can put on duty? Why should all the extras fall to my share?’
‘Who came with the message?’ I blandly enquired of the landlady.
‘One of the Bow street runners, sir. He said as how you was wanted by a nob to investigate some suspicious circumstances.’
‘Very well,’ said I, ‘I will be in attendance;… Read More