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 AUTOBIOGEAPHT 
 
 OP AN 
 
 ENGLISH DETECTIVE 
 
 By "WATERS 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 YOL, I 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN MAXWELL AND COMPANY 
 
 122, FLEET STEEET 
 
 MDCCCLXIII. 
 
 [_All rigM$ reitrved.'}
 
 BATILI. XJfD EDWABDS, PBIifXEES, CHAIfDOS STBEET, 
 COTSHI GABDXX.
 
 
 CONTEXTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 C3 
 
 CO 
 
 LD 
 
 CD 
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD .... 
 
 COINEKS AND FORGERS 
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE .... 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX . 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER . 
 AUGUSTUS TOIPLE oXviS JAMES RYDER 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL 
 
 F1.6B 
 
 1 
 
 39 
 74 
 115 
 145 
 201 
 234; 
 281
 
 ^ut0MograpI^]j of mx (B\\^1\b\ ^tittWk. 
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 It may sound strangely, but is not the less true^ 
 that I joined the Metropolitan Detective Police 
 Force — only the name of which is modern, the 
 vocation itself being as old as corrupt, civilized and 
 uncivilized humanity — before I had quite attained 
 the ripe age of sixteen. My stepfather, at that 
 time a well-known Bow-street officer — Bow-streetT 
 Runner was the more common appellation — a 
 stern, iron-willed, but just man, believed implicitly 
 in the wisdom of Solomon, especially in the part 
 thereof which teaches that to spare the rod is to 
 spoil the child. He exemplified the sincerity of 
 his faith by vigorous practice, and never more 
 strikingly so than shortly before my sixteenth 
 VOL. L ]
 
 2 A DETECTIVE IX THE BUD. 
 
 birthday, when it became necessary to peremptorily 
 decide upon the groove into v.hich, as we would 
 now say, I should be shunted to make the journey 
 of life. I myself had a strong predilection for the 
 sea, and advanced reasons eminently satisfactory 
 to myself why I should be at once bound 'prentice 
 to Andrew Giles, skipper of a Newcastle collier 
 trading between that port and the Thames, and a 
 distant relative of my mother, long before that 
 departed. My stepfather's views entirely differed 
 from mine ; I was more fitted to be a sweep than 
 a sailor ; but having noticed certain peculiarities of 
 mine — indications of a character w^hich in itself 
 was not worthy of commendation, but might be 
 turned to useful account in the business of life — 
 he had determined upon training me in the way 
 I should go, w^hether I liked it or not, which way 
 was the career of a Bow-street Detective Officer, 
 bis own profession. 
 
 The proposal disgusted me. I told him so. 
 Whereupon he at once had recourse to his favourite 
 argument — the cane. Less than one week's daily 
 drill in that exercise more than sufficed to convince
 
 A DETECTIVE IX THE BUD. 3 
 
 me that he was right, I wrong ; and with the 
 consent of Sir Richard Bumie, I was given what 
 may be called a cadet's commission in the cele- 
 brated corps of Bow-street " Runners,'"' the pay to 
 commence with twenty pounds per annum. 
 
 The year was 1819 — that of the Peterloo Man- 
 chester Massacre, as the charge of the valiant 
 yeomanry upon Orator Hunt's unarmed half-starved 
 ragamuffins was termed by irreverent scribblers and 
 spouters in Parliament and the press. Sir Francis 
 Burdett, Baronet, " Westminster's Pride and Eng- 
 land's Glory" (abbreviated by WilHam Cobbett, 
 that sledge-hammer assailant of all rival celebrities, 
 into "Sir Glory") as his admirers called him — 
 wrote his once celebrated, long since forgotten let- 
 ter upon that occasion ; — winged words of burning 
 eloquence, which kindled in me — silly, excitable 
 mooncalf — and in thousands of others, a fiery 
 indignation against the Sidmouth-Castlereagh 
 Ministry, and, a much more serious matter, 
 consigned ^Vestminster^s Pride and England^s 
 Glory to the Tower, by order of the Honour- 
 able the House of Commons, upon whom and 
 1—2
 
 4 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 by whom the letter was declared to l^e a scan- 
 dalous libel. Sir Francis refusing to surrender, 
 was captured by force, and c »rv-eyed, escorted 
 by the Life Guards, to the Tc ver. The people 
 resisted; a gunsmith's shop on Snow-hill was 
 broken into, pillaged, ,^d enough was done in 
 the way of puny revolt to legally justify the 
 soldiers in firing upon the infuriated mob. Two 
 or three persons were killed, more wounded, and 
 the incidents of the day furnished employment 
 for many weeks afterwards to the Bow-street 
 Detective Police, in the endeavour to hunt down 
 a number of ringleaders in the riot, for whose 
 apprehension large rewards were offered by the 
 Government. Amongst these was John Watson, 
 upon whose track, he happening to be personally 
 known to me, I, with others, was hounded on j a 
 mission most repugnant to my feelings, for I 
 greatly respected, I may say loved, the fugitive — 
 an element of the case unguessed at by my father. 
 This was my first essay in the Detective line of 
 business. Forty-four years have passed away 
 since then — crowded years, full of adventure.
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 5 
 
 peril, excitement — more especially since the two 
 Forresters retired from active service, and I, 
 with others, entered upon their peculiar functions, 
 which chiefly consisted in tracking fugitives from 
 justice on the Continent of Europe, in the United 
 States, Canada, Australia, <S:c. Curious enough, 
 my last detective exploit resembled my first in 
 this, that it was a hunt after a iv. . named 
 Watson — Richard, however, not John AVatson — 
 who led me a pretty dance, concluded at the 
 Mauritius, and at the same time finishing me for 
 ever as a Detective. 
 
 Returned to England a helpless cripple— so far 
 as active bodily exertion is concerned, a few months 
 since superannuated upon a fairly-liberal pension 
 — it has occurred to me that I might improve my 
 income, and at the same time amuse, if not 
 instruct, that portion' of the public who prefer 
 facts, to fiction however airily tricked out, by 
 transcribing from the tablet of memory the most 
 striking of the scenes which gleam through the 
 dimming mists of those four-and-forty years, com- 
 mencing with the chase after John Watson the
 
 6 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 Radical rebel, ending with the pursuit of Richard 
 Watson the fraudulent stock-broker. These 
 ought to make an entertaining book ; and will, 
 if I can only find the true trick of writing it. 
 
 I have remarked that John Watson was per- 
 sonally known to and much liked by me, and that 
 my stepfather knew nothing of the latter cir- 
 cumstance. My acquaintance with Watson com- 
 menced in a singular manner. My mother — a 
 weak-spirited, gentle creature, in marrying a 
 second time, when I was in my third year, had 
 given herself a master as well as husband. I 
 doubt that she was ever violently attached to 
 him. Well, I have no doubt whatever upon the 
 subject, though her sad, solemn eyes, full of yearn- 
 ing love for m6, closed upon the. world when I 
 was but eight years of age. I also know she was 
 as true a wife as loving mother. There was a 
 brother of hers— Robert Smith, suppose we call 
 him — a wild, reckless man, who having wasted in 
 early life the means, both material and moral, 
 which might have enabled him to attain a respect-
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 7 
 
 able social position, had gradually sunk into the 
 lowest depths of degradation. My stepfather, in 
 the first blush of his marriage (he must have loved 
 his -wife had he been composed throughout of hardest 
 flint), made several efforts to reclaim, to save him. 
 Irritated, angered by the failure of his well-meant 
 efforts, he not only himself whistled off the irre- 
 claimable vagabond, but sternly commanded my 
 mother to do the same. She was forbidden to 
 hold the slightest intercourse with him, and en- 
 joined, should he persist in coming to the house, 
 pestering her for the loan of small sums of money, 
 as he had been in the habit of doing, to at once 
 give bim into custody. The ties of blood, inter- 
 twined, knotted in childhood, are difficult, in some 
 natures, impossible to break. My mother could 
 not break so entirely with Robert Smith as her 
 husband wished; but she scrupulously avoided 
 assisting the ne'er-do-well at that husband's cost. 
 Some of her relatives, Lancashire folk, were in 
 fair circumstances, and to them she appealed for 
 at least sufficient money to help to save the 
 miserable castaway from absolute starvation —
 
 S A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 possibly from suicide. That help was afforded; 
 but what could such doles avail in satisfying the 
 cravings of a confirmed drunkard? Smith grew 
 more and more importunate, for ever threaten- 
 ing to hang or drown himself; and at length so 
 worked upon his sister's feelings that she con- 
 sented to see him personally, as soon as it should 
 be dark (the month was November), in Copen- 
 hagen Fields — a locality named by himself 
 
 I was then about eight years of age, and my 
 mother took me with her. She usually wore a 
 rather costly gold watch and chain — a present of 
 my stepfather's on the wedding-day. In her 
 flurry at setting out to keep the clandestine ap- 
 pointment very reluctantly made, she forgot 
 to put off those trinkets ; an oversight which might 
 have had disastrous consequences. , 
 
 The night fell dark, gusty, and a chilling, drizzly 
 rain set in before we reached the place of meeting 
 —then one of the dreariest spots in London. 
 Smith, more than half- drunk, was waiting for us 
 with savage impatience — we being considerably 
 behind the time agreed upon. His sister had
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 9 
 
 but a half-guinea for him ; he clutched it with 
 a snappish growl at the smallness of the gift, 
 then asked if his sister could suppose that such a 
 sum could afford him real relief; help him to 
 leave this cursed country for America, as his last 
 letter informed her he intended doing; or, should he 
 find it " impossible to carry out that purpose, take 
 his departure, without further shilly-shallying, and 
 by swifter conveyance, to another place — that 
 place, hell ! — hell ! One may be pretty sure of 
 that, eh Madam Piety? And you — you," he 
 added, with gathering ferocity, ''you, my sister, 
 who could, who can save me from destruction, 
 will not ! I want but ten guineas — only ten 
 guineas — possessed of which, I will leave England 
 for ever before the week is out !" 
 
 Smith's melodramatic mouthing did not even 
 impose upon me, child as I was ; but I noticed 
 with a vague feeling of uneasiness (the moon was 
 just then shedding a pale, uncertain light through 
 a rift in the dense night-clouds) that his blood- 
 shot, greedy eyes were fixed upon the watch and 
 chain. My mother, observing that she could as
 
 10 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 easily give him one hundred gmDeas as ten, turned 
 away, with a gesture of impatient disgust. As she 
 did so, the brother, maddened with drink and 
 disappointment, made a fierce snatch at the 
 watch. To have permitted herself to be despoiled 
 of it by Smith would have entailed her husband's 
 lasting displeasure, and she screamed loudly, 
 struggled desperately to retain it. I helped her 
 by kicking the drunken ruffian's legs, biting his 
 hands with all the strength I could bring to the 
 rescue. Smith, who must have been a very 
 powerful man before the Dehlah of drink had 
 shorn him of a great portion of liis strength, 
 would no doubt have finally preVuiled had not 
 effectual help come, and not one moment too soon. 
 Smith was struck to the ground by the blow of a 
 brawny fist, and the glittering prize of which he 
 deemed himself secure was wrested from his grasp. 
 The person who arrived so opportunely to our aid 
 was Mr. John Watson, who, it subsequently ap- 
 peared, was acquainted, in consequence, I suppose, 
 of similarity of political crotchets, with Smith. 
 A hurried, passionate explanation followed the
 
 A DETECTIVE IX THE BUD. 11 
 
 defeated felonious attempt of Smith, and 
 first administering a stern warning, Mr. Watson 
 allowed him to depart. Mr. "Watson accom- 
 panied us for the greater part of our way home- 
 ward, conversing earnestly the while with my 
 mother concerning Robert Smith, in whom, for 
 some reason or other, he evidently felt a deep 
 interest. Confidential communications between 
 my mother and Watson, of which I was the 
 medium, took place during the next five or six 
 weeks ; and the gratifying result was that Robert 
 Smith was enabled to leave his country for his 
 country's good, with a fair prospect of mending 
 his ragged fortunes in one of the newly-settled 
 W^estem States of America. I often afterwards 
 casually met and exchanged friendly greetings with 
 Watson, and never for one moment forgot that my 
 mother, to her dying day, felt for him both esteem 
 and gratitude. 
 
 It was this man whose lurking-place the 
 Government of the day was so anxious to discover. 
 Once unearthed, caught in the iron grip of the 
 Bow-street Runners, Watson would be as surely
 
 12 A DETECTIVE IN THE BtJD. 
 
 hanged as that all of us must one day meet Death 
 in that or some other form. And this was to 
 be the first essay of my 'prentice hand in the 
 repulsive vocation which I had been scourged into 
 embracing, was it ? I was to do my best, poor as 
 that best might be, to bring to the gallows one of 
 the very few persons who had ever done a real 
 kindness to me or mine. I might perhaps have 
 felt bound to do such violence to my young, fresh 
 sense of honour and humanity if, instead of having 
 been brutally coerced, I had volunteered into the 
 service. But that not being the case, we should 
 see that which we should see. 
 
 The chase was hot and close after poor Watson. 
 It was soon pretty certain that he was concealed 
 somewhere in London, but to .make assurance 
 doubly sure, not a vessel could be cleared from 
 a British port till it had been ransacked from 
 stem to stern, in search of the fugitive. Not one 
 of the hunters was more eager, more vigilant than 
 myself. My acquaintance with Watson, compa- 
 ratively slight as it had been, gave me peculiar
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 13 
 
 facilities which I turned to such good account 
 that but a few days passed before I knew that 
 Watson, alias Elirby, was concealed at No. 46, 
 John-street, Clerkenwell. I had been aware of 
 that fact two or three days when a note written 
 in a disguised hand by a partially trusted traitor 
 was received by our chief officer, stating that 
 Watson was to be found in John-street, Clerken- 
 well. The number of the house, the writer thought, 
 was 73 or 93 ; but if mistaken in that respect the 
 right number would be certainly forwarded before 
 many hours, perhaps one hour, had passed, by 
 " Thomas Jebb, a needy but loyal subject of his 
 Majesty King George.'' -!». 
 
 The letter, which reached the office about noon, 
 having been read and a consultation held thereon, 
 it was determined, till the exact information 
 promised came to hand, to merely watch Nos. 73 
 and 93, John-street, and not run the risk of 
 warning the quarry that the hunters had struck 
 the true trail, and would soon pounce upon their 
 prey if speedy flight were not resorted to. 
 
 My mind — the mind of a rash, foolish, most
 
 14 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 imprudent boy — was instantly made up, and 
 off I started for 46, John-street, rung tlie side- 
 bell, told the scared serving-wencli who opened 
 the door that I must see Mr. Kirby at once, bolted 
 past her without waiting for an answer, ran up to 
 the first floor three steps at a time, and the next 
 minute was face to face with John Watson, who 
 sprung up from his chair with panic alarm, let 
 fall his pipe and seized the poker. He was tole- 
 rably disguised by means of a flaxen wig, but 
 would scarcely pass undetected by any one who 
 knew and was looking for him. 
 
 "You, Clarke!" he exclaimed, with quivering 
 voice, and a sternly reproachful glance. " You — '* 
 
 '^ Yes, me," I broke in ; " me, Henry Clarke, 
 who is here, and not one moment too soon, to 
 save you if possible from the officers whose net is 
 fast closing round you, Mr. Watson. You must 
 leave this immediately, and as much better dis- 
 guised than you are now as we can manage in 
 the few minutes we have to spare.'' 
 
 Watson was a man of nerve, but so imminent 
 and deadly a peril deprived him for the moment of
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 15 
 
 all presence of mind. He trembled violently, and 
 was so completely helpless that the additional 
 disguise required, I was compelled to invent and 
 adjust myself. 
 
 That done tolerably to my satisfaction, I urged 
 him to secure any money or papers he might have, 
 of importance. He did so with my help. I was 
 pleased to find that he felt not the slightest dis- 
 trust of me. It w^as not likely that he would. 
 The tones of simple honesty and truth are rarely 
 misinterpreted. 
 
 " Now, my good sir, follow the guidance of a 
 boy, and boldly. We must let ourselves out one 
 at a time, myself keeping a few paces ahead. Th*e 
 servant girl, I am sure, does not know who I am, 
 and I took the precaution to prevent her obtaining 
 more than a very slight glance at my phiz. Come 
 along, Mr. Watson, my mother's friend. There 
 is no fear." 
 
 No fear ! The chances were in favour of both of 
 us being caught as we left the house, in which case, 
 as I soon afterwards bethought me with a shudder, 
 I could only have saved myself from the capital
 
 16 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 charge of misprision of treason by the pretence, 
 which, with Watson's connivance, would hardly 
 Lave passed, that I had by the prowess of my 
 boy-arm arrested Watson, and was holding him in 
 custody. In fact, I subsequently ascertained that 
 three officers despatched to John-street soon after 
 I left Bow-street office must have passed No. 46 
 but a few minutes before Watson and I quitted it. 
 
 My next move was yet more rash and audacious, 
 but yet not without a spice of cleverness by force 
 of its very rashness and audacity. At that hour 
 of the day there would not be a soul at home in 
 the house where I and my stepfather lodged, and 
 there was a bedroom rarely used in which I 
 determined to secrete Watson till some final 
 scheme of escape could be devised. The fugitive 
 himself was startled when he fouQd where he was 
 to be temporarily stowed away. A few moments' 
 reflection quieted his fears. Surely the very last 
 place in which the officers would expect to find 
 Watson would be the domicile of one of them- 
 selves ! 
 
 One element of danger had been overlooked,
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 17 
 
 was indeed unsuspected by me. Watson had 
 caught a cold, could not for the life of him avoid 
 coughing violently now and then, and my father's 
 bedroom was only divided from his by a thin 
 wooden partition. This awful fix suddenly making 
 itself known to me as, very late in the evening, I 
 returned home with provisions for my protege, 
 positively threw me into a bath of cold perspiration. 
 Why, Good Heavens ! my father's step might at 
 any moment be heard on the stairs ; in which case 
 our terrible wager, life against death, would be 
 lost to all intents and purposes. A council of 
 despair, or at least one approaching to that colour, 
 resulted in the pleasant conclusion that nothing 
 better at that time of night could be done than 
 the procurement of a plentiful supply of cough 
 lozenges. This was done, we bade each other an 
 apprehensive farewell, " and nervously thought of 
 the morrow. 
 
 It seemed almost a special Providence that my 
 stepfather did not return home that night. The 
 informer upon Watson had written again, giving 
 the correct number of the house, No. 46, John- 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 18 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 street ; but too late, — the bird had flown. It had 
 suddenly crossed my mind when we left the place, 
 seeing the serving wench listening and cock- 
 watching out of a partially opened door, to say in 
 an affected whisper, quite loud enough to be 
 heard, '*If we can only get safe to Deal or 
 Ramsgate, the trick is done" Very lucky that 
 thought did cross my mind, as the girl, bullied 
 and bribed into telling all she knew, and probably 
 something more, repeated what I said, and, of 
 course, to exalt her own wonderful acuteness of 
 ear, dwelt upon the cautious, whispering way in 
 which it was said. Presto! Officers, my stepfather 
 amongst them, set off, post-haste for Deal and 
 Ramsgate, and did not return till full forty-eight 
 hours afterwards. Before that time expired, we 
 (Watson and Company) had made a new, and to 
 the adversary we flattered ourselves, rather per- 
 plexing move in the game. 
 
 The night passed in fear and trembling. I — 
 first locking up poor hunted Watson in a narrow 
 coal-cupboard — hastened to Bow-street, where I 
 learnt the foregoing particulars. Gratefully recog-
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE EUD. 19 
 
 nising the beneficent Providence which had so far 
 steered our frail bark in safety through sinuous 
 shoals and quicksands, I, nevertheless, being in- 
 stinctively a believer in the soundness of the axiom 
 that " Heaven helps those who help themselves," 
 cast about with eager solicitude to discover some 
 particular mode of achieving permanent success. 
 My pride, of which I had a Luciferian share, was 
 aroused. It was a duel — nothing less — between 
 me and the famous Bow-street runners. Should 
 I succeed — should I baffle those trained sleuth- 
 hounds — it would prove, at all events, that my 
 astute stepfather had rightly divined the peculiar 
 bent of my genius. 
 
 The dodge to which John "Watson owed his ulti- 
 mate safety has always been attributed to his own 
 vulpine cunning — to his own calculated audacity. 
 He himself so gave it out at a meeting in New 
 York. That was not true. Either he was misre- 
 ported or he misrepresented the facts of the case, 
 which were these : — 
 
 The next house to the Bow-street Police-office 
 was occupied by a tailor of the name of Savill. 
 
 2—2
 
 20 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 He appeared to have a quiet sort of family trade, 
 and the upper part of his house was let off in 
 "Furnished Apartments for Single Gentlemen," 
 I did not remember to have ever seen his front 
 window divested of that announcement; but the 
 familiar formula had never spoken suggestively to 
 me till three or four hours after I had left poor 
 Watson locked up in the coal-cupboard. *' Fur- 
 nished Apartments for Single Gentlemen" in 
 immediate proximity to the renowned police-office. 
 The words seemed to read themselves to me, as 
 my eyes rested half-vacantly upon them, with a 
 knavish chuckle, and slightly altered — "A Fur- 
 nished Apartment for a Single Gentleman !" 
 
 To be sure, the very thing for William Stubbs, 
 cHias Richard Kirby, alias John Watson. No 
 man with his wits about him would, if he hap- 
 pened to be particularly " wanted" in Bow-street, 
 walk of his own accord to Bow-street, and take 
 up his abode under the very noses of the men in 
 quest of him ! Certainly not. It were an unima- 
 ginable absurdity. Just so ; and for that reason 
 an old schoolfellow and fast friend of mine walked
 
 A DETECTIVE IX THE BUD. 21 
 
 before noon on that day into Savill's shop, sa^V 
 that respectable individual, and engaged his three- 
 pair-back bedroom for an uncle — Mr. Willian^ 
 Stubbs — a quiet countryman from Norfolk, who 
 would give no trouble whatever, but required ta 
 be boarded as well as lodged. There was no 
 objection, my friend added, to a monthly payment 
 in advance. Such an offer accepted itself ; refer- 
 ences were superfluous ; Mr. William Stubbs could 
 come direct from the Saracen's Head, Skinner- 
 street, when the Norwich coach arrived, and would 
 find the apartments ready, the sheets well aired, 
 and a dinner ready to be served, &c. &c. 
 
 Looking down from the height of forty-five 
 years of detective experience, I must say that was 
 not a common device to be hatched and matured 
 in a boy's unpractised brain, and can to this day 
 heartily participate the delicious but of course 
 subdued merriment with which my ante-self, at 
 sixteen, looked on whilst the stout Stubbs slowly 
 alighted from a hackney-coach, and, with his 
 luggage, leisurely passed before the unregardful 
 eyes of the Bow-street officials into Mr. Savill's
 
 22 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 bouse. The worthy tailor and I have chuckled 
 over, and drained glasses whilst chuckling over, that 
 neat trick a hundred times. 
 
 John Watson remained about seven weeks at 
 Savill's, during which his capture was twenty 
 times at least reported in the newspapers. By 
 then, vigilance, enfeebled by disappointment, had 
 become dull, torpid, and it was judged by Watson's 
 friends, with whom I was in secret communication, 
 that he should no longer delay his departure for 
 America. 
 
 As I was informed, the final arrangement come 
 to was that Watson should embark at London. 
 This was in accordance with my theory, that the 
 place where it was least likely you would be 
 sought for was that where, if sought for, you 
 would be most easily found. I -bade Watson 
 adieu, and gaily wished him " hon voyage" He 
 expressed grateful thanks for the great ser- 
 vice I had rendered him ; and yet, with a 
 strange mistrust of one who had given such 
 unmistakable proof of his good faith, tacitly de- 
 ceived me as to the port where he purposed
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 23 
 
 embarking for the States. In so doing, he, I 
 must believe, acted by the advice of others, iwt 
 by the promptings of his own mind. 
 
 The very next day a letter was received from 
 that "needy but loyal subject of King George, 
 Thomas Jebb,'"' informing the authorities that the 
 proclaimed traitor John Watson intended to em- 
 bark at Liverpool, in the liner Waskington, which 
 was advertised to sail on the 10th instant — four 
 days from then. I had never been able to dis- 
 cover who '■' the needy and loyal subject" was — his 
 real name being only communicated in confidence 
 to the Solicitor of the Treasury; and this note 
 completely demolished a vague suspicion which 
 had lately arisen in ray mind, poiDting to a very- 
 intimate acquaintance of a friend of "Watson as 
 the traitor. I must have been mistaken, it being 
 quite clear that Thomas Jebb only knew that 
 Watson was about to attempt leaving the coun- 
 try, but not from which port. By the way, I 
 had made it a peremptory condition with the 
 hunted man that he should on no account confide 
 the secret of his hiding-place to any human being,
 
 24 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 except Mr. Grafton, a watchmaker, in Hatton- 
 garden, a near relative of liis, in whose good faith 
 and discretion I had implicit confidence. 
 
 It was at once determined that two officers should 
 proceed to Liverpool, and search the Wccshingtoii 
 when well out at sea, just previous to the pilot 
 leaving her. My stepfather was one of the se- 
 lected officers, and he being in a remarkably gra- 
 cious mood, the arrest of Watson appearing to be 
 at last assured, consented that I should accom- 
 pany him. I felt a malicious pleasure in the 
 anticipation of being a witness to the blank dis- 
 appointment of the "Kunners^'when they found that 
 "Watson was not on board the Washington — a 
 pleasure that would be greatly enhanced by the 
 certainty of the fugitive's escape which would be 
 then simmering at my heart — the London liner, 
 in which he would have embarked, sailing on the 
 same day as the Washington. 
 
 We kept strictly on the quiet in Liverpool, 
 making no inquiries whatever, but keenly ob- 
 servant of the Washington. Ten minutes after the
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 25 
 
 Blue Peter flew out at her mast-head we were 
 dropping down the Mersey in a stout six-oared 
 boat, which could not fail easily to overhaul the 
 liner unless a stiff breeze sprang up, which was 
 not, the sailors said, in the least likely, even should 
 the American captain disregard, as had more than 
 once happened, the signal, to be displayed at the 
 proper moment, of " Officers coming to visit and 
 search the Washington." 
 
 Our boat had not long cleared the Mersey when 
 we sighted another, pulled by two oars only, with 
 one passenger sitting at the stern. The captain of 
 our skiff, after a hasty look through his glass, said, 
 " That boat is waiting for the Washington, and it's 
 very likely the stout individual in the stem- sheets 
 is your man, gentlemen. But if so, you will find 
 him on board the liner. By jingo ! I'm not so sure 
 of that," added the seaman, again bringing his 
 glass to bear upon the boat. " They don't like our 
 looks, and are pulling like grim death back to 
 shore. Shall we give chase ? There will be plenty 
 of time, after picking her up, to overhaul the 
 Washington."
 
 26 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 Chase was given ; the men in the strange boat 
 strained every muscle to escape, in compliance — we 
 could presently see, by the wild, frenzied gestures 
 of their passenger — with his entreaties, backed no 
 doubt by lavish promises of reward in the event of 
 success. But the two-oared boat had not the ghost 
 of a chance of reaching the shore before we should 
 be alongside, and a sickening flush ran through my 
 veins as the thought arose in my mind, that it was 
 just possible a change in the plan of escape had 
 taken place at the last moment, and that the frantic 
 passenger was John Watson. 
 
 All doubt was soon over. AYe ran alongside the 
 chase ; the two officers stepped from our boat to 
 the other; the passenger's wig was snatched off, 
 his false whiskers ditto, and then revealed before 
 us, in dumb terror, was — not John Watson — but 
 the cashier of an eminent London firm, who had 
 absconded with a considerable sum of money, and 
 for whose apprehension a reward of one hundred 
 pounds had been for some considerable time vainly 
 offered. " Mr. Charles Tliurston, as I'm alive," 
 gleefully shouted my stepfather. " We are in luck
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 27 
 
 to-day, and have a good chance of killing two 
 crallows-birds with one stone. Now then," he 
 added, collaring the swooning cashier, and forcing 
 him into our boat. " jSTow then, we've no time to 
 spare, and it's of no use to snivel or faint. Bring 
 away his traps. All right. And now, captain, 
 pull like good men for the Waskington, which 
 I see is running out to sea at a spanking 
 rate." 
 
 "Yes;" said our captain, "the breeze is rising faster 
 than I expected it would. We had better step the 
 mast, and run up signals at once." This was done, 
 our fellows at the same time bending to the oars with 
 a will. For some time it was doubtful that we were 
 seen, or, if seen, that our signal would be heeded. If 
 that should prove so, the capture of Thurston would 
 have ensured the escape of Watson, it being clearly 
 impossible for us to cut off or overtake the liner, 
 which was dashing on under a cloud of canvas. 
 The two " Runners" were dreadfully put out, swore 
 roundly at poor Thurston for coming in their way 
 just at the wrong moment, and soundly rated the 
 captain of the skiff for assuring them the small
 
 28 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 boat might be overhauled without fear of thereby 
 missing the Washington. 
 
 " It was a fair calculation," said the man, " that 
 we might ; and this fellow moaning and twisting 
 here in the bottom of the boat mout have been the 
 man you particular wanted. All right," he added, 
 "all right: the liner is shivering her foresail; 
 round she comes, and will lie-to for us." 
 
 The American skipper received us with a cold, 
 grim civility. The surrender to officers of justice 
 of any criminal who had once set his foot on the 
 deck of a ship sailing under the star-spangled ban- 
 ner was very distasteful to those " Hail Columbia ! " 
 gentlemen, even when that ship was in British 
 waters; and but for the penalties which would be 
 incurred, and enforced whenever the Yankee ship 
 whose commander had wilfully refused to he-to 
 when properly signalled to do so, returned to a 
 British port — they would have never, or at all 
 events very seldom, given up any man, except it 
 may be an atrocious murderer. 
 
 The Washington carried out two hundred and 
 seventy-five passengers. It was necessary to inspect
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 29 
 
 every one of these, and afterwards search the ship, 
 if our man were not previously found. The deten- 
 tion of the liner would consequently last a con- 
 siderable time; and as there was a fresh and rising 
 easterly breeze, the chagrin of the American skipper 
 and his officers at being compelled to lose so much 
 valuable time was proportionate. However, there 
 was no help for it. The passengers were all ordered 
 upon deck, ranged in the fore part of the ship, and 
 after being singly scrutinized by the Bow-street 
 officers, passed aft, if not the man wanted. 
 
 Whilst my stepfather and his comrade were still 
 engaged in civilly-snappish confab, if such a phrase 
 be permissible, with the American officers, I was 
 pushing through the crowd of passengers, urged by 
 a vague fear that Watson might after all be 
 amongst them. Suddenly I started, as if an adder 
 stung me. The reader must not forget, that not 
 only was my boy- vanity deeply engaged, but that 
 should Watson be taken, awkward, perilous dis- 
 closures affecting my precious self might come out 
 on his trial. 
 
 Yes, I started as if an adder stung me; for there
 
 30 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 before me was John Watson — his face livid, his 
 knees knocking together, in the very ecstac}'- of 
 terror. I knew him as instantly as he knew me, 
 though his disguise, that of a stout Quaker, wearing 
 an extensive broad-brimmer, a flaxen wig, and blue 
 spectacles, was, as a disguise not meddled with, 
 stripped away — capital. What mischievous fool or 
 knave could have prevailed to mar so promising a 
 project; one that, but for that exasperating inter- 
 ference, must, it was plain, have been successful! 
 I did not then know, could not have believed, that 
 it was / who had been purposely misled — it being 
 feared that boyish indiscretion might at any 
 moment make shipwreck of the scheme: or my 
 stepfather, receiving a hint, or conceiving a suspi- 
 cion of my agency in the business, might wheedle 
 or whip me into confessing alL It could, at all 
 events, the cunning fools reasoned, do no harm to 
 keep me in the dark as to where Watson would 
 embark, — then he could sleep in spite of thunder ! 
 Thomas Jebb, 7iot being a bo}'', might of course be 
 confided in — as his services would be required — at 
 least to that extent. The idiots !
 
 A DETECTIYE IX THE BUD. 31 
 
 I repeat, that at that moment I had not the 
 faintest suspicion that / could have been purposely 
 deceived. Could I have thought so, I hope resent- 
 ment for having been so treated would not have 
 prevented me from making a last effort to save the 
 seemingly- doomed man. 
 
 I struggled out of the mob of passengers, almost 
 all of whom were 'rowing, clamoring, swearing, at 
 being compelled to undergo the insolent scrutiny 
 of Bow-street fellows — the servile tools of an infa- 
 mous aristocracy; and theyheartily hoped Watson — 
 it was soon known whom the officers were in 
 search of — had escaped the mercenary bloodhounds 
 set upon his track. 
 
 A hundred lights vrere dancing in my eyes and 
 flashing in my brain. I could not endure the 
 thought of Watson being carted off as it were to 
 the gallows. To succour, protect any one, is almost 
 invariably to become deeply interested in, attached 
 to him or her. And my pride fiercely rebelled at 
 the notion of being foiled, defeated in the very 
 moment of supposed victory ^^ 
 
 Ay, but how resist defeat — seize and bind that
 
 S2 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 vanishing victory? That was the question. An 
 insoluble one it for some time appeared to be. 
 Presently, as I watched the procedure going on — 
 the division of the passengers into two parties, 
 those who had passed the ordeal and those who 
 had not — the "All right" of the officers, usually re- 
 sponded to by a curse or other fierce rebuke of 
 their d d insolence, — I noticed one man, stand- 
 ing close by AVatson, and exhibiting almost as 
 much trepidation as the proclaimed " Traitor." 
 Didn't I know that man? His features seemed 
 familiar to me. By Jove ! he was Fleetwood, the 
 runaway bankrupt builder, of Pimlico. The idea 
 which gleamed before me widened, brightened 
 with every passing moment. Fleetwood was not 
 unlike Watson : the same age, complexion, 
 stature, or nearly so. By Heavens ! the thing 
 might be done ! and all Fleetwood himself would 
 have to apprehend if taken back to London was 
 the compulsory surrender of his person and plunder 
 to the Commissioners of Bankruptcy. Not plea- 
 sant processes, it may be, but much preferable to 
 being hanged by the neck 'twixt earth and sky till
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 33 
 
 you are dead. There was not a single pulse-beat 
 to be lost, and mine was going at a gallop — so fast 
 that I could hardly manage to scribble in pencil, 
 on a leaf torn from a memorandum -book, these 
 few words : — " Never say die ! There's life in a 
 mussel, yet ! Be ready to take prompt advantage 
 of any row or confusion which may occur to slip 
 over amongst the * passed' passengers. Whisper 
 you are Watson, and, my life upon it, not one will 
 expose the trick." 
 
 Sideline: agfain amonsfst the fast -diminish in gr 
 ranks of the unexamined passengers, I contrived 
 to pass the slip of paper, unobserved, into Watson's 
 hand. A minute afterwards his half-hopeful look 
 gave assurance that he understood me. 
 
 My part in the play was next to come, and 
 quickly. My cue for going on would be the 
 officers* " All right,'' as they passed the man im- 
 mediately in front of Fleetwood. 
 
 " All right !" iDstantly I sprang forwards, seized 
 the absconding bankrupt by the arm, exclaiming, 
 as I did so, " This is he ! This is the villain ! I 
 know him well !" The unfortunate man struggled 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 S4 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 furiously, yelling with ragy and spluttering out 
 indignant denials that he was Watson I The 
 ofiScers, supposing that I meant that he was Wat- 
 son, flung themselves upon him, and, after a brief 
 struggle, mastered his desperate resistance, and got 
 on the handcuffs. That done, they looked closely 
 at his features — searched for the marks by which 
 the real Watson could be unerringly identified. 
 
 " This fellow is not Watson ! " exclaimed my 
 father, turning angrily upon me. " What the devil 
 did you mean by saying that he was V 
 
 " I did not say he was Watson. I never thought 
 of saying so. He is Fleetwood, the bankrupt 
 builder of Pimlico, for whose apprehension a con- 
 siderable reward has been, as you know, offered/' 
 
 " By Jove 1 the lad is right. It is Fleetwood ! 
 W^ell, little fish are sweet, and notto be sneezed at, 
 especially as it may be feared we shall not, this 
 time at all events, succeed in hooking the big ona 
 Stand aside for the present, Mr. Fleetwood." 
 
 During the bustle and confusion Watson had 
 adroitly passed over among the examined passen- 
 gers, whOj as the whisper circulated that he was the
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 35 
 
 political fugitive Watson, closed round and hid him 
 from view. Most of the crew and all the passen- 
 gers — except Fleetwood, absorbed, blinded by his 
 own misery — were witnesses of the dodge, but not 
 one gave a hint, by word or gesture, to the officers 5 
 and they, suspectiog nothing, proceeded with their 
 work ; which terminated, they searched the ship, 
 equally without success of course. The American 
 skipper, who had been for some time waxing ter- 
 ribly wroth, at la^ gave orders to fill — remark- 
 ing, as he did so, with a savage growl, " that 
 if the darned Britishers did not go over the side 
 into their boat pretty smart, they would have the 
 pleasure of seeing New York before they did Liver- 
 pool again.'" 
 
 This perfectly serious menace quickened our mo- 
 tions considerably; and we were in a very few 
 minutes pulling for the mouth of the Mersey, with 
 the two j)risoners Thurston and Fleetwood securely 
 in hand. That was something no doubt, but, as 
 a compensation for "Watson s '^lOTircapture, scarcely 
 worth a thought — as the officers' angry, contemp- 
 tuous looks, as they eyed the crest-fallen captives, 
 8-2
 
 86 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. 
 
 abundantly testified. There was a sardonic sneer 
 glistening out of Thurston's grey eyes and curling 
 his thin lip, as he returned the officers' scowl, which 
 I could not at first comprehend. I soon did. 
 
 "The Washington^* said Thurston, who had 
 been observing for a minute or two the fast dis- 
 appearing ship — " The WasJangton is hull down 
 already; it would require a lively craft to over- 
 haul her, and John AVatson may hug himself on 
 his safety as confidently as if she were already 
 moored in New York harbour !" 
 
 " What's the fellow prating about ?" growled my 
 stepfather, fiercely. " What does ho know about 
 W^atson ?" 
 
 " Only this, — that he is on board the Washing' 
 ton ! That you wonderful clever fellows let him 
 slip through your buttered fingers as easily as a 
 live eel could !" 
 
 "That's a lie, Mr. Thurston! Had W^atson 
 been on board the Washington, we should have 
 him here as safely as we have you and Fleetwood." 
 
 ' John Watson is on board the Washington, I 
 tell you, disguised as a Quaker ! Why, you must
 
 A DETECTIVE IN THE BUD. S7 
 
 have seen him in the crowd, wearing a tremen- 
 dous broad-brimmer and blue spectacles ! I had 
 climbed up the ship's side, just to see what was 
 going on, and spied him out — knew him at a 
 glance. You must, I say, remember having seen 
 such a man ; and you can't remember having ex- 
 amined, questioned .him ? Ah, you may well look 
 at one another," continued Thurston, with exultant 
 glee. "He slipped aft when you were so busy 
 with friend Fleetwood here. Cleverly done, upon 
 my soul ! very cleverly done, indeed ■ I glory in 
 the fellow. Ho ! ho ! Wonderful cute chaps are 
 our celebrated. ' Runners !' The notion of anyone 
 throwing dust in their eyes ! Quite impossible, of 
 course ! Not to be done ; certainly not Here's 
 to John Watson's jolly good health,"' added the 
 spiteful swindler, drawing a pocket-pistol from his 
 vest ; " and wishing, with all my heart, I was as 
 certainly on board the Washington as that he is. 
 Never mind, gentlemen thief-catchers ; keep your 
 spirits up, as I do. Better luck next time, per- 
 haps, for you as well as me. But, really, it 
 must be aggravating to have had the man in
 
 S8 A DETECTIVE IX THE BUD. 
 
 the iiollow of one's hand and let him get away^ 
 with no chance of setting your blessed eyes on him 
 again ! I should be fit to hang myself if I were 
 you ; I should, indeed. And, Lord I what a wig- 
 ging you'll get from the nobs, when it comes to be 
 known. I'll take care it si tall be known. Lose 
 your berths, of course I Mean— mean, Mr. E-unner- 
 the-second, and almost as clever as your pal," added 
 Thurston, as the officer, feeling riled and hardly 
 knowing how to vent his spite, clapped a pair of 
 handcuffs on the cashier's wrists. " Mean, Mr. 
 Runner ; but there is some excuse to be made for 
 men who have met with such a terrible sell. Wat- 
 son will, no doubt, be printing it in the New York 
 papers, headed ' The famous Bow-street Block- 
 heads!' Ho! ho!"
 
 39 
 
 COINERS AND FORaEES. 
 
 We left Liverpool for London early on the evening 
 of the same day — my more than usually sourly- 
 sullen stepfather, Thurston, and myself perched 
 upon the roof of the " Eclipse/' — the equally sour 
 and sullen second officer and Fleetwood upon that 
 of the " Telegraph " — both fast coaches, and rival 
 racers as far as Birmingham. As a mea.sure of ordi- 
 nary precaution^ the handcuffs were not removed 
 from the wrists of either of the prisoners. All 
 went well till we neared the small town of War- 
 rington, when the '• Telegraph,'* which we had 
 passed a few minutes before, put on a spurt, came 
 up with us at a sharp turn of the narrow road, the 
 two coaches became in some way interlocked, 
 and over ours went, pitching the outside pas- 
 sengers upon the hard road with stunning violence. 
 I did not, however, though sorelv bruised, lose
 
 40 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 myself; nor did my stepfather, whose first anxious 
 thought was for his prisoner, — not particularly to 
 ascertain if his bones were broken, or if he had 
 jumped this bank and shoal of time from the roof of 
 the " Eclipse," but to assure himself whether his 
 person was safe — whether dislocated or dead was, 
 considered from a Bow-street detective point of 
 view, a matter of minor importance. 
 
 Mr. Thurston was quite safe, though not sound 
 apparently, as he moaned dismally. Assistance 
 presently arrived from the Black Bear Tavern ; 
 a stout pull at the brandy-flask enabled us all 
 to get on our legs without much assistance, 
 and having shaken ourselves, to walk on to the 
 Black Bear — limpingly some of us, but no bones 
 were broken. We had been more frightened than 
 hurt. This seemed at least to be the case with all 
 of us till we reached the tavern, when Thurston 
 suddenly manifested alarming symptoms. His in- 
 juries must have been internal ; for though he 
 writhed, twisted^ groaned in a frightful manner, 
 not the slightest external hurt, scarcely an abra- 
 sion, could be perceived. Supported to bed, he
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 41 
 
 piteously prayed my stepfather to relieve him of 
 the handcuffs, which request was sternly refused 
 till a medical man should have certified that the 
 sufferer was not shamming Abraham. 
 
 " I w^ill go for a doctor myself," said my 
 father. "The nearest I am likely to meet with 
 is a mile away, I am told. I will, how^ever, 
 endeavour to be here with him in half-an-hour 
 from this at furthest. You," he added, speaking 
 to me, "will remain in this room with Mr. 
 Thurston." 
 
 The wary ofiScer then left the room ; we heard 
 him go downstairs, and out of the house. It was 
 certain he had gone out, for w^e heard him call 
 loudly outside to some one, asking when the 
 " Eclipse" would be ready for another start. 
 
 The afflictive paroxysms under which Thurston 
 was writhing and tossing ceased with miraculous 
 suddenness. He rose half up in his bed, and 
 hearkened with breathless eagerness to my father's 
 heavy, departing footfall ; he then lay back on his 
 pillow for a few minutes, silent and thoughtful. 
 Rousing himself with a start, remembering he had
 
 42 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 no time to lose, lie exclaimed, in a tone not of 
 entreaty but of command : 
 
 *' Youngster, bring me the brandy-flask. Quick ! 
 Place it in my hands. I must have a good pull 
 now, and take the rest with me." 
 
 The peremptory tone of the fellow startled me 
 somewhat, indicating as it did the possession of 
 power to enforce compliance with his wishes, what- 
 ever they might be. I, however, replied, with as 
 much calm unconcern as I could assume : — 
 
 "If you required brandy, Mr. Thurston, you 
 should have asked the officer who has just left, 
 for some. For myself, I dare not presume 
 to " 
 
 " D — n the officer who has just left," he fiercely 
 interrupted. " You shall hand me the brandy — 
 the key of the cupboard is in your pocket. And 
 you shall, moreover, help me — passively help me ; 
 I require no active assistance — to make my escape. 
 You have done such a service to far guiltier cri- 
 minals in the eye of the law than I am. Listen, 
 young man/' he went on to say, with hot vehe- 
 mence ; '* listen, young man. I closely twigged
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 43 
 
 your manoeuvres on board the Washington with 
 John Watson ; saw you scribble something on a 
 small scrap of paper, which you slily slipped into 
 his hand. I noticed all that followed, and your 
 active, clever agency in achieving success. It did 
 you credit. There is stuff in you to make a score 
 of such officers as your father and his comrogue if 
 tbey could make a joint-stock contribution of their 
 brains. Now, mark me, young man. Do as I 
 ask, and your secret is safe. Fire should not bum 
 it out of me. Refuse — dare to hinder me from 
 getting away — and many days will not have passed 
 before you are caged in Newgate, charged with 
 the high crime of aiding and abetting the escape 
 of a felon whom the Government are especially 
 desirous of bringing to justice. You too — who are, 
 I understand, a cadet-constable — to have acted in 
 that way ! Transportation for the term of your 
 natural life is the very mildest sentence that would 
 be passed upon you for a crime which might be 
 visited with death. Now, then, will you hand me 
 the brandy ?" 
 
 The fellow's words struck me all of a heap.
 
 44 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 Whether or not his exposition of the criminal law 
 of England as affecting the offence of which, acting 
 in a spirit of Quixotism, I had been guilty, was ex- 
 actly correct, it was quite evident that, the crimi- 
 nating circumstances being proveable by Thurston 
 — confound him ! — I had got myself into a very 
 serious predicament. 
 
 I hardly knew how to decide ; but the instinct 
 of self-preservation, — which is, we know, the first 
 law of nature, — prevailed, as it ever does. I gave 
 Thurston the brandy-flask. Having indulged in a 
 long pull thereat, he sprang off the bed, as light, 
 active as ever, nothing of the slightest consequence 
 ailing him, and requested me to adjust his cloak 
 so that the handcuffs and the flask held between 
 his palms might not be observed. I did so, 
 mechanically as it were, like one in a dream. 
 "You had better," said, he, "feign sleep. Most 
 chaps of your age would feel drowsy after being 
 pitched off the top of a coach and recovered 
 with brandy. It will be supposed I took 
 the opportunity of escaping while you slept. 
 Good-bye ! I know the country here about very
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 45 
 
 well, and have little doubt of getting clear away 
 if I only pass unchallenged out of the tavern. 
 Good-bye, lad, once more. If it should ever be 
 in my power to pay you back this good turn, 
 depend upon it I will." He spoke throughout in 
 a quivering, earnest whisper, — boldly as the words 
 read. The situation was certainly an unnerving 
 one. Success would altogether depend upon his 
 being recognised or not by any one below as the 
 handcuffed prisoner. It must be remembered that 
 I could not have removed the iron- cuffs except 
 with a file, not having the key ; and I had no file. 
 
 Thurston just managed to turn the door-handle 
 with his fettered hands, without letting fall the 
 flask. Softly — a cat could not tread more softly — 
 he crept out ; crept down a back stair. I counted 
 the moments as they flew upon the dial of my 
 watch. Ten minutes passed : still no noise, no 
 bustle below. The fellow had escaped ; at all 
 events, for a time. 
 
 I sat, lay, wal^d upon tenterhooks till my step- 
 father returned ; notwithstanding which, I was 
 snoring heavily when he entered the room, shook
 
 46 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 me roughly, and asked me what the devil had 
 become of the prisoner ? I at length said, staring 
 wildly about, that I didn't know (which was true 
 enough), got heartily cursed for a sleepy, blubber- 
 brained booby, and ordered to assist in the attempt 
 to be immediately made to recapture the vanished 
 cashier. 
 
 The search was not very eagerly pressed. All 
 men, my stern stepfather not excepted, are frail ; 
 and one especial weakness of his was a strong 
 aversion, not so much to being done — though 
 that tried his amiable temper — as being laughed 
 at for having suffered himself to bo done. In 
 the John Watson case, moreover, more serious 
 penalties than being laughed at might be incurred. 
 Was it not excusable, then, remembering that the 
 firmest-footed man is apt to stumble upon slippery 
 paths, that he should not be so solicitous as he 
 would otherwise have been to secure the babbling 
 cashier's presence in London ? I most decidedly 
 think so. All the money and effects found in 
 Thurston's possession had been secured for the 
 plundered firm. What more, as commonly rea-
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 4 
 
 senable meu, could they desire ? The subject was 
 never alluded to by him ; but my own opinion is, 
 that when he left the Black Bear to go in real 
 or pretended search of a doctor, my father was 
 still undetermined to give or not to give the 
 cashier a chance of snatching the key of the fields. 
 Hence his refusal to remove the handcuffs. Should 
 Thurston be seized when attempting to leave the 
 house, the unlocked handcuffs would prove that 
 the officer in whose actual charge the prisoner was 
 had • not connived at the escape, whilst locked 
 handcuffs would not hinder the wearer from 
 making smart way to a place of safety. At all 
 events, the fellow was gone, handcuffs and all — a 
 very happy riddance for both of us. 
 
 "When I again saw William Thurston, five years 
 or thereabouts subsequently, I had yet greater 
 reason to rejoice that in c<?nsequence of the over- 
 turn of the " Eclipse" coach he was for once en- 
 abled to give his captors the go-by. 
 
 Those five year^or thereabouts had been spent 
 by me more as an amateur desultory detective
 
 48 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 than as one having real, important business on 
 hand with which the responsible heads of the 
 Bow-street Police Department could confidently 
 entrust me. 
 
 My twenty-first birth-day reached, it behoved 
 me to address myself to the business of life with 
 resolute, sustained zeal and vigour ; and this the 
 more necessarily that I was thrown entirely upon 
 my own resources. My stepfather had been mor- 
 tally wounded a twelvemonth previously, by the 
 notorious burglar Amos Lay ton, into whose Lon- 
 don lair, in Wych-street, he had rashly ventured 
 alone, with a warrant to arrest him for a robbery 
 with violence at Wanstead House, Essex (Welles- 
 ley Pole's magnificently-decorated mansion). Had 
 Lay ton been alone, like my brave relative, — a 
 braver man, cooler in presence of peril, I have 
 never seen, — there would not, I think — though 
 Layton had plenty of bulldog pluck — have been 
 much doubt of the issue. Unfortunately, Layton 
 had two of his miscreant gang within whistle-call. 
 The odds were too great ; ana after fighting his 
 desperate way out of the house, the murdered
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 49 
 
 officer, when he had staggered as far as the Strand, 
 fell senseless on the pavement. Two days after- 
 wards he died. 
 
 Layton was not taken at that time ; but he 
 ultimately died, as he used when in drink to boast 
 to his associates he should, "with his shoes on.'' 
 That is to say, he was hanged at the Old Bailey in, 
 if I rightly remember, the year 1827, for a burglary 
 at the house of Ms. Peters, an aged, highly 
 respected habitant of Walworth, who expired a 
 short time afterwards, of the shock caused by being 
 awoke in the dead of night by a craped ruffian 
 standing over her with a pistol in his hand, demand- 
 iug to know where her money was to be found. 
 
 I did address myself with sustained vigour to 
 the real business of Ufe, and with such fair success 
 as to gain me the confidence of our chiefs, A 
 stronger proof of this could not be given than 
 their entrusting me, still young as I was, though 
 possessed of remarkable physical strength, and one 
 of the best wrestlers out of CornwalJ, with the 
 important but very perilous task of ferreting out 
 the haunts of a skilfully organized confederacy of 
 
 vor. I. 4
 
 50 COINEES AND FORGERS. 
 
 coiners, their modes of business, the channels 
 through "SYhich they contrived to circulate such 
 vast quantities of spurious coin, and bring, not the 
 poor devils caught passing their wares purchased 
 of agents at a price which left the manufac- 
 turers a tremendous profit, but the principals 
 themselves, who were believed to be men of 
 capital, and acting in conjunction with a body of 
 similar swindlers established in Hamburg. 
 
 The information which could be furnished for 
 my guidance was of the scantiest kind. Not one 
 of the wretches Avho had been convicted of passing 
 the worthless coin— coin at all events that was 
 struck from the same dies, and which could be 
 easily distinguished from the coarser work of less 
 skilful scoundrels (the " milling/' most diflScult of 
 all coining processes, was skilfully executed and by 
 machinery, not by hand) — could, though quite 
 willing, and eager to do so for the high rewards pro- 
 mised, give the slightest clue that might lead to 
 the discovery of " the plant," nor could personally 
 identify one of the direct agents of the confe- 
 deracy, much less one of its chiefs.
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 51 
 
 The mischief, too, was assuming frightful dimen- 
 sions. There was no doubt whatever that the 
 same gang, emboldened by success, had started a 
 new and profitable branch of money manufacture, 
 the forging of bank-notes, and were already doing 
 a first-rate business in that line, their operations 
 being chiefly confined to the issue of country notes, 
 at that time forming a large proportion of the 
 circulating medium, and payable at the London 
 agents of the banks. This plan had its peculiar 
 advantages. The great, almost insuperable, difficulty 
 was avoided of producing a passable imitation of a 
 Bank of England note. Not only was the water- 
 mark a stumbling-block in the way, but the fine 
 engraving could only be executed by first-rate 
 artists, whilst country bank-notes, for the most 
 part, could be accurately imitated by comparative 
 bunglers. Then in counties, or provincial towns, 
 such notes chiefly circulated amongst persons but 
 little skilled as a class in such matters ; and who, 
 though they might look askance at a Bank of 
 England note, rarely thought of doubting the 
 genuineness of one of their ot'ju bank. It was 
 
 4—2 
 
 UBRARV 
 
 UNIVERSnY or SULiN'.'v.
 
 52 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 reported to the office that no less than twelve 
 hundred, possibly more, one- pound-notes of the 
 Leeds Old Bank had found their way into circu- 
 lation in less than two months. 
 
 Great alarm naturally prevailed, and it was 
 
 determined to spare no effort that might present 
 a chance of reaching the concoctors of so gigantic 
 a system of fraud. The belief was that the seat 
 of manufacture, if such a phrase may be used, was 
 somewhere in Whitechapel, but nothing had been 
 positively ascertained in that respect. 
 
 " I have sent for you, Clarke" — (of course, this is 
 a nom de plume) — " I have sent for you, Clarke," 
 said the chief clerk at Bow- street, "in order to advise 
 with and employ you in hunting down the auda- 
 cious gang of coiners and forgers who have hitherto 
 so provokingly baffled all our efforts. First, how- 
 ever, it may be well to remark, lest you should be 
 too much puffed up with vanity, that you have 
 been selected for this service, principally, I do 
 say solely, because you are not much known 
 as a Bow-street officer. Your face cannot be 
 familiar to the frequenters of police and other
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 53 
 
 courts, whilst our old hands are, I have no manner 
 of doubt, as well known personally to these auda- 
 cious swindlers as to ourselves. Your hands will 
 not be tied," continued the clerk ; " you can choose 
 your own mode of action, take your own time, but 
 must not let the grass grow under your feet. 
 Remember to be cautious, wary, discreet, as well 
 as bold, for the service required may involve 
 personal danger. Honest, zealous endeavour 
 will be liberally rewarded, even though unsuc- 
 cessful; but should you succeed, you will be a 
 made man in your vocation. Now go and consult 
 the officers who have already done their best and 
 failed to put salt upon the cunning rascals' tails. 
 They have orders to withhold nothing from you, 
 and you will report progress, or no progress, to me 
 daily, oftener if need be, by letter." 
 
 Day after day passed fruitlessly away. Three 
 weeks were gone, and I had not even begun to 
 make progress. Of course, I took especial care not 
 to have personal communication with the passers 
 of bad coin who were apprehended for that offence.
 
 54! COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 Only one utterer of forged notes, John Martell, 
 could be traced, and he either knew nothing, or 
 would not betray his employers. It was hoped 
 that the near prospect of the gallows would loosen 
 his tongue, but this hope, rather than expectation, 
 was frustrated by his acquittal upon a technical 
 plea — a variance in the indictment. I, however, 
 took care to see the fellows and retain as accurate 
 memory-portraits of them as I could . 
 
 It was by doing so that I first obtained a chance 
 of getting at the heart of the mystery. I was 
 walking leisurely along Old Compton-street, Soho, 
 when a gentlemanly-looking man, '^ut who the 
 dullest detective would, at a glance, perceive was 
 "made up,'' came bustling out of one of the 
 best houses in the street, and was passing, when 
 his eye caught mine, causing him to start, shrink 
 as it were, with surprise, and it seemed alarm. 
 He was himself again in a moment, and quickly 
 proceeded on his way. 
 
 " Surely," mused I, " that face is not unfamiliar 
 to me. Where can I have seen it ? '* 
 
 The place he had come out of was a gold and
 
 CX)INERS AND FORGERS. 55 
 
 silver refiner's shop, on the door of which was a 
 large brass plate, inscribed with the name of 
 Scobell. There was a considerable quantity of 
 plate, battered gold and silver coins, and foreign 
 bank-notes in the window, over which was painted 
 the words, " Scobell & Co., late Parke, established 
 in 1803." Evidently a highly respectable concern. 
 The '' made up '' gentleman I had seen leave 
 the shop had, probably, been there to dispose of 
 some piece of plate. The question returned who 
 was he, where had I seen him ? I went into 
 a tavern '' to smoke upon it " — an expedient I 
 had before adopted, in cases of personal puzzle- 
 ment, with success. It was so on this occasion. 
 ^'William Thui-stou, as I'm alive!" exclaimed I 
 aloud, before my first pipe was half consumed. 
 " William Thurston I I thought he was in the 
 States. Certainly, a foolhardy man not to be 
 there, or somewhere else, beyond the reach of 
 British justice. I shall not, however, make or 
 meddle with him ; such fellows, who will so 
 tempt their fate, are safe to meet with it sooner or 
 later, and generally when least expected. William
 
 56 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 Thurston will fall, or be pushed over the precipice, 
 upon the brink of which he chooses to walk, without 
 any agency of mine.' * 
 
 Though I so reasoned and resolved, I found 
 myself oftener walking along Old Compton-street, 
 Soho, than I had been in the habit of doing. The 
 refiners shop had some occult attraction for 
 me. I never passed it without peering in through 
 the window, and curiously watching the old 
 wizened, grey-haired man, perched upon a stool 
 inside a counter, and doing nothing, that I ever 
 saw, except pore over an old newspaper through 
 silver-rimmed spectacles. There did not appear 
 to be much business attached to the concern 
 established in 1803. A quiet business, at all 
 events ; chiefly transacted, perhaps, by means of 
 parcels and letters. Very likely. 
 
 One day, about noon, nine or ten days after I 
 had seen William Thurston leave the shop, I, 
 peering in as usual, was really startled, though 
 certainly there was no tangible reason why I 
 should be, to see that worthy in close conference 
 with the white-haired man — Mr. Scobell himself.
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 57 
 
 perhaps. So absorbed were they in the subject 
 under discussion, that though in hastily, awk- 
 wardly withdrawing sidelong-wise out of their 
 sight the handle of my umbrella struck sharply 
 against the protective wire-netting fastened to 
 the lower part of the window, neither looked 
 round nor seemed to hear the grating ring of the 
 blow. 
 
 As before remarked, I felt no wish to act spy 
 upon William Thurston's movements, and yet so 
 strongly was my curiosity excited by merely seeing 
 him in conversation with a respectable tradesman 
 or tradesman's assistant, that, without reasoning 
 about it for a moment, I at once made myself 
 ready for unobservedly dogging his steps when he 
 should leave the shop. It was easy to prevent him 
 from recognising who was following, should be turn 
 round and cast his eyes in my direction. 
 
 I had on a long Spanish cloak, much worn at 
 that time ; by turning up the fur-collar of which 
 the lower part of the face might be completely 
 hidden, especially if one had a " comforter" round 
 one's neck, as, it being cold and rainy, happened
 
 58 COINERS AND FOEGERS. 
 
 to be the case with me. If, in addition, the bat 
 were well pulled down over the eyes, and the open 
 umbrella dexterously managed, recognition, except 
 by the closest scrutiny, was impossible. 
 
 I had to wait a considerable time for the appear- 
 ance of friend Thurston. His business with the 
 gold and silver refiner was no doubt serious, im- 
 portant. Might it possibly have reference to the 
 balance forthcoming on that plate hurriedly thrown 
 a few nights since into the crucible ! Such trans- 
 actions had taken place with firms quite as respect- 
 able and long-established as Scobell and Co., late 
 Parke. 
 
 At length Mr. Thurston emerged into the street 
 — bright, rubicund, jubilant, spite of the wretched 
 weather — and walked jauntily aw^a}^ I following. 
 He walked directly on, took short cuts through 
 passages, till he reached the Crown Tavern, in the 
 Curtain-road, Shoreditch, which he entered, with 
 me still close at his heels, made some inquiry 
 I did not distinctly hear, and, satisfied with the 
 reply — " Yes, some time ; about half-an-hour," — 
 ordered two hot brandies, and walked into the
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 59 
 
 coffee-room. Determined to follow up the game 
 which I surmised to be a-foot, whatever that game 
 might prove to be, I, though with some hesitation, 
 went into the coffee-room. 
 
 Good heavens ! The man wliom Thurston was 
 shaking hands and laughing with was John Mar- 
 tell, the fellow charged with uttering some of the 
 forged notes, and who had escaped conviction 
 through a legal flaw in the indictment Here was 
 a discovery, or at least, to speak soberly, a clue 
 which might lead to important discoveries. 
 
 Quickly ensconcing myself in the next high 
 partition-box to that in which they were seated, 
 and consequently completely hidden from view, I 
 listened eagerly to their at first distinctly audible 
 conversation, relating principally to the weather 
 and kindred topics. By-and-by, more interesting 
 subjects engaged their thoughts and tongues, as 
 was evident by their subdued, whispering tones, 
 rendering it impossible for me to hear a word they 
 were saying. 
 
 They drank freely, very freely ; but the liquor 
 had no effect in the way of unguarding their
 
 60 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 tongues. Long practice in that discipline, wherever 
 it was possible they might be overheard, had per- 
 fected a strong habit, which indulgence could not 
 loosen. I have observed the same thing in many 
 persons. 
 
 It was quite dark when they rose to go away. 
 
 " You will not see Jane to-night, I suppose ?" 
 said Thurston, as they were leaving the room. 
 
 " No ; not till to-morrow night. I must call on 
 the parson, you know." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, to be sure. Good night." 
 
 I had been in doubt which it would be wisest to 
 mark down, Thurston or Martell. Those few 
 words decided me. Jane was probably a daughter 
 of Thurston, and a strict watch kept over his place 
 would no doubt put me in the way of tracking 
 Martell to his haunts. I would continue to attend 
 upon Thurston. 
 
 John Martell was a good-looking, youngish 
 man ; he would have been handsome but for the 
 searing hand of early and excessive intemperance. 
 
 Thurston lodged at No. 19, Lower-road, Isling- 
 ton, where he passed under the name of Warren.
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 61 
 
 This I learned from a beer-boy, who had just 
 delivered a pot of ale at No. 19. 
 
 " Nobody of the name of Chilton lives at No. 19, 
 sir. Only one gentleman lodges there ; his name 
 is Warren ; and there is a Mrs. Warren and two 
 grown-up gals, whose names is Rogers, not Warren. 
 You might have seen Mr. Warren go in a few minutes 
 ago,^' added the boy, with grateful acceptance of the 
 sixpenny-piece I tendered ; " or perhaps the gentle- 
 man you want is one of them — and there are lots — 
 that come to see Mr. Warren. Shall I go and ask, 
 sirr 
 
 I thanked the lad, declined his offer, and went 
 my way. 
 
 So then William Thurston was determined to 
 get hanged ! One touch-and-go escape from the 
 iron clutch of criminal justice had been no warning 
 to him ! That is, I am sorry to say, a too common 
 case. Well, if Wilful would to water, Wilful 
 would drench ; nothing surer than that. And 
 now to follow up the promising start I had made. 
 That was the pressing question. Handle the 
 imhatched egg gently, warm it into hfe with
 
 62 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 watchful care. Certainly ; but how — how to set 
 about the process? Lie low, completely out of 
 sight, and sing small, or, better still, not sing at 
 all for a time. To be sure, only a fool would do 
 otherwise. Yet that would be merely waiting for 
 an opportunity which might never come. If I 
 were worth my salt as a detective I ought to 
 create an opportunity of snatching success. But 
 the first step towards that desirable end ; in what 
 direction to take that ? Clearly by watching John 
 Martell on the morrow evening, when he left No ] 9. 
 Something might come of that. 
 
 At my post in barely sufficient time. Martell, 
 when parting with Thurston at the Crown Inn, 
 Curtain-road, had used the words, "To-morrow 
 night ;" and though, not to throw away a chance^ 
 I was on the watch by half-past six, I had not 
 been so three minutes when a hackney-coach 
 drove up to the door of No. 19, out of which 
 presently came Mr. John Martell, dressed in 
 holiday costume, conducting a gaily-attked and 
 as far as I could judge from a distance and 
 by the uncertain light, a handsome young
 
 COIXEES AND FORGERS. 63 
 
 woman. " Drury Lane Theatre — Box Entrance," 
 said Mr. Martell, stepping into the hack, which 
 the next minute drove off. 
 
 Decidedly a handsome woman was Miss Jane 
 Rogers, one of Thurston's stepdaughters : a very 
 handsome young woman, especially by gaslight 
 and attired as ladies in the dress-circle of a 
 theatre are required or expected to be. And 
 either I was much mistaken, or there was a latent 
 fire in those gleaming black eyes of hers, which, if 
 stirred by anger, jealous anger — and I should think 
 a dissipated, vulgar roue as his appearance beto- 
 kened Martell to be, was a likely fellow to give 
 occasion to jealous anger — would pour forth con- 
 suming lava. There was a remote chance in that, 
 and it was imperative to neglect nothing that pro- 
 mised the semblance of a chance. 
 
 After setting down Miss Jane at No. 19, Lower- 
 ro£id, Islington, Mr. John Martell drove to a house 
 of ill-fame. I was not, consequently, able to track 
 him to his own home that night. The next even- 
 ing the stars were more propitious. He visited
 
 6-i COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 Miss Jane Rogers, remained a short time only, and 
 walked home to his lodgings in John-street, Mino- 
 ries — a respectable place let out in lodgings by a 
 tailor and his wife, who kept a shop, and dwelt on 
 the basement-floor. 
 
 Mr. John MartelFs alias in John-street, Mino- 
 " ries, was William Steevens. People I inquired of, 
 — he was seeking a situation at the West End, and I 
 had been deputed to make strict inquiries respect- 
 ing his character, &;c. — said he was known to 
 be a gay spark, who spent money freely, and was 
 perhaps a little too fond of the company of ladies. 
 However, it was a long lane that had no turning, 
 and it was thought he would tie-up soon with the 
 daughter of the landlord of the Jolly Butchers, 
 Whitechapel-road. She was a smart wench, might 
 make a good wife, though a bit of a shrew, and 
 would have lots of tin, which made them wonder 
 why he was looking out for a situation. Steevens 
 passed some hours there almost every evening, but 
 kept himself a good deal to himself and the young 
 woman, not liking, it seemed, to mix with the 
 general company.
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 65 
 
 I could easily understand thatw His first, but I 
 was strongly of opinion not his last, appearance in 
 the Old Bailey dock had naturally increased his 
 repugnance to mix with general society. But 
 courting the pretty daughter of the landlord of 
 the Jolly Butchers, with a view to speedy mar- 
 riage ! That now looked like a winning-horse, if well 
 jockeyed. What would fire-eyed Miss Jane have 
 to say to that? and sure as death she knew all 
 about the gang of coiners and forgers — could blow 
 them to Lucifer with a breath. But first to posi- 
 tively ascertain if the report were true that 
 Steevens, alias Martell, was bond fide engaged to 
 Mary Hawkins, daughter of Joel Hawkins, whom 
 I knew by reputation to be quite as jolly and 
 much redder than the Jolly Butchers swinging 
 and creaking outside his well-frequented hostelry. 
 Quite true ! I peeped beneath a lifted corner 
 of the green dwarf-curtain drawn across a small 
 window in the partition which divided the inner 
 from the outer bar, and I saw quite enough 
 in that brief glance to prove to me that both 
 meant getting married as quickly as possible; 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 GQ COI>'ERS AND FOPcGEES. 
 
 the girl influenced, ifc may fairly be supposed, by 
 misplaced affection, the man by desire of both, 
 maid and money. The licence, I ascertained, had 
 been applied for. That grave fact placed beyond 
 a doubt, I wrote and posted to Miss Jane 
 Rogers, 19, Lower-road, Islington, the following 
 epistle: — 
 
 " A devoted friend and admirer of Miss Jane 
 E-ogers — who has for some time past watched the 
 g'oings on of Mr. Martell with eyes, he candidly 
 admits, sharpened by jealous envy — begs to inform 
 the beloved of his soul, that the villain whom she 
 has in th^ unsuspecting innocence of her own 
 heart believed to be an honourable man, is about 
 to be married to the daughter of Joel Hawkins, 
 the landlord of the Jolly Butchers tavern, High- 
 street, Whitechapel. The licence has been be- 
 spoken : this fact can be verified at Whitechapel 
 Church. The young w^oman's name is Mary Haw- 
 kins. He marries her in the name of Steevens, 
 which is that he goes by in the locality. He is 
 generally at the Jolly Butchers from seven till 
 nine in the evening, philandering with the pretty
 
 COINERS ASD FORGERS. 67 
 
 Mary. May the writer of this hope, though lie 
 has never till now told his love in words, not 
 having been blest with the opportunity of doing 
 so — permission to hope, this is all he asks — 
 that when time shall have caused Miss Jane 
 Rogers to forget, not only the shameful outrage 
 itself, but the scoundrel who has subjected her to 
 it, that he "will be allowed to make himself 
 known to the beloved of his heart, and cast 
 himself and all which he possesses at her feet. 
 
 "A line — one blessed line only — addressed A.W., 
 Saint Martin's-le-Grand Post-office, would be es- 
 teemed a favour, to be humbly grateful for through- 
 out life. This evening Martell, otherwise Steevens, 
 will certainly be at the Jolly Butchers, in company 
 with, it is said, very pretty Mary Hawkins, in the 
 inner bar." 
 
 Having posted this precious stuff, which I felt 
 sure would do its work, with my own hands, I was 
 satisfied that mischief was a-foot, and could 
 scarcely fail of taking the turn which would lead 
 to the success of the difficult enterprise with which 
 I had been entrusted. 
 
 5 — 2
 
 68 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 I was early that evening in the smoking-room 
 adjoining the bar of the Jolly Butchers, feeling 
 something like one who had fired a train, and 
 impatiently awaits, himself in safety, the thunder- 
 blast. 
 
 Mar tell also came early. He and Mary had been 
 billing and cooing for perhaps half-an-hour, when 
 suddenly the door of the common room was flung 
 wide, and in the opening stood the fine figure of 
 Jane Rogers, drawn up to its full height, and 
 her dilated eyes shooting flaming daggers as she 
 glared at us innocents, and fiercely demanded 
 if Mr. Steevens — if Mr. Martell was in the 
 bouse. 
 
 " In the inner bar, miss," said one of the com- 
 pany, pointing with his pipe. " They are in there, 
 miss." 
 
 " Miss" was in there too in a jiffy ; and the 
 hurricane of abuse, rage, astonishment, terror, 
 which burst forth was really deafening. Mary was 
 as nothing in the hands of the terrible Jane, who 
 literally seized her by the hair of the head, and 
 was dragging her forth as if to summary execution
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 69 
 
 before the astounded father or Martell could effec- 
 tually interfere. I did not wait to witness the end 
 of the fray. It was not my game to speak with 
 Miss Jane just then. The humble, adoring lover 
 ought not to see his charmer when passion trans- 
 formed, if it assuredly did not dim, the brightness 
 of her beauty. 
 
 " A. W. would hear from J. K. on the morrow." 
 This was the curt acknowledgment of my eloquent 
 epistle. 
 
 A. W. did hear from the beauteous virago on 
 the morrow. The note, a brief one, contained an 
 assignation, which I did not fail to keep. And 
 upon my word, so well did I play my part — I have 
 often thought my true destiny was the stage — that 
 the infuriated young woman really imagined that 
 after handing over, with her help, Martell and Co. 
 to the tender mercies of the hangman, I should 
 only be too happy if graciously permitted by her 
 to encircle my own neck with another kind, but 
 often as fatal a noose as that peculiar to the finisher 
 of the law. She was, as I have said, eaten up with 
 passion ; the passion of jealousy, of revenge —
 
 70 COINERS AND FOKGERS. . 
 
 vengeance insatiable. She went direct to the 
 point. Martel], counting no doubt that her strong 
 love would shield him from any fatal consequence, 
 flatly refused to give up Mary Hawkins and her 
 money. " Since he will wed the minx," exclaimed 
 the amiable Jane, "Jack Ketch shall give the 
 groom away, if he cannot the bride." She still 
 however hesitated to utter the irrevocable words 
 which would seal the doom of the coiners and 
 forgers ; though she had gone much too far to 
 recede with safety, even to herself. I felt quite 
 confident of the issue. 
 
 At last an appointment was arranged when all 
 would be settled, the decisive words spoken ; the 
 conditions being that her vengeance and my (pre- 
 tended) love should be gratified as soon as the 
 hanging and marrying ministers could perform 
 their functions. 
 
 Shortly before the appointed hour, I received a 
 note changing the venue. Instead of 19, Lower- 
 road, Islington, I was to meet her at a house in 
 Whitechapel. 
 
 So convinced was I of the woman's sincerity of
 
 COINEES AND FORGERS. 71 
 
 rage, her rabid thirst of vengeance, that a thought 
 of treachery did not for a moment cross my mind. 
 I have often since wondered at such blind confi- 
 dence on my part. 
 
 The house was a roomy, desolate one — con- 
 tiguous to other decaying, untenanted, equally 
 desolate houses. The man who admitted, ushered 
 me high upstairs into a dreary apartment, 
 said the "lady" would be there almost imnie- 
 diatelv, and left me in the black darkness, takinor 
 with him the candle with which he had lighted 
 me and himself up the rotting stairs. I heard 
 him turn the key of the door, and, for the 
 first time, a thrill of fear shot throug^h me. Had 
 Jane Rogers and John Martell been reconciled? 
 If so, the safety of the gang would imperatively 
 require that I should be quietly put out of the 
 way. Whilst greatly agitated by such reflections, 
 the key again turned in the door, and a man with 
 a lantern in his hand entered the apartment. He 
 was William Thurston ! Holding the lantern aloft, 
 close to my face, he exclaimed : " It is as I feared, 
 Henry Clarke. You have madly suffered your-
 
 72 COINERS AND FORGERS. 
 
 self to be lured to destruction — though she in- 
 tended honestly at first — by Jane, one of the 
 daughters of my termagant, wicked wife, to whom, 
 from the day our marriage, I have been a bond-slave. 
 Jane and Martell were married this morning. A 
 sufficient number of the gang will be here in about 
 an hour to quietly settle scores with you. There is 
 but one resource. I promised not to fail you in 
 the hour of need, and I will not. Bad as I may 
 be, I am not all bad. Look, here is a coil of rope. 
 We must descend from the narrow window. Have 
 you a sufficient force of officers within call T 
 
 " Not within call. In half-an-hour a quite suffi- 
 cient force will be assembled." 
 
 "That must do. The next point is, whether 
 there is a reasonable assurance that, should I 
 enable the authorities to break up the confederacy 
 of ruffians with whom I have in a manner been 
 compelled to associate, I shall be allowed to 
 leave England in freedom ?" 
 
 I said that there could be no doubt that he 
 would. He believed, trusted in me j and we were 
 soon safe on terra firma, though the descent by
 
 COINERS AND FORGERS. 73 
 
 the slippery rope, easy enough I dare say to sailors, 
 was both painful and perilous. 
 
 An hour afterwards, the plant at Scobell and 
 Co.'s, Old Compton-street, Soho, and the more ex- 
 tensive one in Whitechapel, were seized. A few only 
 of the gang escaped. Martell, Simonds, and Curtis 
 were hanged at the Old Bailey; the others 
 variously sentenced to transportation and im- 
 prisonment. William Thurston embarked with 
 all speed for America. I never heard what became 
 of Jane Rogers, though I made frequent inquiries.
 
 No. U, LOWNDES SQUAEE. 
 
 The failure of Justice in the remarkable case of 
 Sheen, or Shea, the child- slayer, excited, it will be 
 remembered, feelings of uncontrollable surprise 
 and anger in the minds of the British community. 
 Sheen, who kept a raffish public-house in Saint 
 Giles's, London, cut off, in a fit of drunken rage, 
 literally cut off, his child's head He was ar- 
 raigned for the murder, and ultimately acquitted 
 — the popular notion being that he escaped con- 
 viction in consequence of having been indicted in a 
 wrong name. This was a misconception. The 
 result was a gross blot in the records of English 
 criminal practice ; but not quite so bad as that. 
 Mike Sheen was indicted by the name, if I re- 
 member rightly, of Michael Shea, and a true bill 
 for wilful murder was returned by the grand juiy. 
 The prisoner pleaded not guilty ; and Mr. Adolphus,
 
 KO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 75 
 
 the then Old Bailey counsel par excellence, objected 
 that the accused's name was Mike Shea, as set 
 forth in the verdict of "wilful murder returned by 
 the coroner's inquisition. In those days a judge 
 had no power to amend any clerical error in an in- 
 dictment ; and Mr. Burbage, junior counsel for the 
 Crown (his leader, Mr. Alley, being absent for 
 the moment), consented, the Recorder concurring, 
 that Shea should be tried on the inquisition. Mr. 
 Adolphus saw his chance and seized it. In his 
 seemingly careless, off-handed way, he said, that if 
 that were to be done, it would be necessary to take a 
 formal verdict of acquittal imder the bill found by 
 the grand jury. The Recorder acquiesced ; the formal 
 verdict was given, and recorded, as of course, by 
 the clerk of arraigns. The prisoner was then 
 charged as Mike Shea, upon the inquisition; Mr. 
 Alley, who had returned into Court, was about to 
 open the case for the Crown, when Mr. Adolphus 
 objected that the prisoner had been already tried 
 for the alleged crime, and acquitted — his plea, in 
 technical phrase, being that of '^Autrefois ac- 
 quit" This was a bombshell — the weU-known
 
 76 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARK 
 
 inflexible rule of English law being that no one can 
 be put in danger, that is tried twice, upon the same 
 charge. A great wrangle of words followed ; but 
 the fact that, through the adroit management of 
 Mr. Adolphus, the prisoner had, upon the face of 
 the record, been acquitted of the murder of the 
 child could not be disputed. At last, the prisoner 
 was put back, and the proceedings adjourned till 
 the morrow, when Mr. Justice Littledale would be 
 on the bench. The plea was accordingly argued 
 before that grave dignitary, Mr. Adolphus tender- 
 ing proof that the Mike Shea then in the dock 
 was the Michael Sheen who had been legally 
 acquitted of the crime for which it was sought to 
 again put him in danger. Mr. Justice Littledale 
 retired to consult with his learned brother Judge 
 Bailey, though he himself had, unfortunately, no 
 doubt whatever that the prisoner must be dis- 
 charged. Mr. Justice Bailey proved to be of the 
 same opinion ; and it was announced by the Bench 
 that the great principle involved, that no one could 
 be put in danger by the Crown twice for the same 
 offence, was too sacred to be tampered with. The
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 77 
 
 prisoner was therefore discharged from the dock, 
 amidst a hurricane of groans, yells, and curses. 
 
 Sheen's technical acquittal did not, however, 
 place him out of danger. It was hoped that he 
 would be caught in the commission of some crime 
 which, if of infinitely less moral turpitude than 
 murder, would confer the right to hang him. Bow- 
 street detectives were ordered to keep a sharp look 
 out upon the fellow, a duty zealously performed 
 by myself and others without material result. 
 Once I felt sure that we had him on the hip. A 
 Mr. Truman, of Sheffield, lost his purse whilst 
 pushing his way with the crowd to the pit of the 
 Little Haymarket Theatre. His pocket had, no 
 doubt, been picked ; and one of our fellows fancied 
 he had observed Sheen amongst the people waiting 
 outside the theatre till, tlie doors opened. This 
 did not appear very likely. Sheen's tastes not being 
 at all theatrical. The fact was, however, ascer- 
 tained to be as the officer had stated. A man, calling 
 himself Wilford, who had just returned from New 
 York, where he had made the acquaintance of a 
 near relative of Sheen's, had called upon the latter
 
 78 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 about eleven in the forenoon ; treated the general 
 company, Sheen in particular, most liberally ; was 
 loud in praise of the States ; and urged the land- 
 lord, especially as certain circumstances must 
 render his continuance in the cursed old country 
 unpleasant, to emigrate, accompanying him^ 
 Wilford, who intended to stay in England about 
 a month onl}^ Sheen was delighted at meeting 
 with such a seemingly respectable, sympathising 
 friend ; and finally accepted Wilford's offer to treat 
 him to the play. At the close of the performance 
 Wilford left Sheen, saying he should sleep at 
 the same hotel — Sheen did not remember the 
 name, but thought it was the Blue Boar — where he 
 had put up on arriving in London. He had not 
 been again seen up to that time by Sheen ; and on 
 inquiry at the Blue Boar, Holbom, and half-a- 
 dozen other Blue Boars, no such person as Mr. 
 Wilford was described to be could be heard of. 
 
 Sheen savagel}'-, and with some reason, complained 
 that he should be suspected of picking a stranger's 
 pocket, and have his house searched, merely 
 because he chanced to be one of a crowd of people
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 79 
 
 waiting for admission at the doors of a theatre, and 
 was sternly told that though lawyercraft had with- 
 drawn his neck from a richly-deserved halter, he 
 must not expect to meet with the consideration 
 due to even ordinary ruffians. Sheen, it is right to 
 state, always asserted that he was not guilty in 
 intention of killing the child ; that he was, in 
 short, insane at the time, from the influence of 
 drink, and was not master of himself or conscious 
 of what he was doing. This, I dare say, was par- 
 tially true. 
 
 Mr. Truman's loss was a rather heavy one, — his 
 purse, a leathern bag, having contained fifteen ten- 
 pound Bank of England notes, besides gold and 
 silver. Of only seven of these notes could the 
 number be ascertained. These he had taken a 
 few days previous to the robbery, in change for a 
 cheque, at Child's banking-house, near Temple-bar. 
 I accompanied him thither, obtained the numbers, 
 and gave formal notice at the Bank of Ena^land 
 that they had been stolen. Two or three hours 
 after that had been done, a respectable-looking man 
 presented himself at the office in Bow-street ; said
 
 80 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 his name was Wilford ; that having called that 
 morniEg at Sheen's, he was induced by what was 
 there told him to inquire upon what grounds the 
 police suspected him of having picked some gen- 
 man's pocket 
 
 The case being in my hands, I shortly replied 
 that his having been seen near the gentleman who 
 was robbed at the time when the robbery must 
 have been committed, and in company wi^th the 
 notorious Sheen, fully justified such quiet inquiry 
 as had been made; and that having given that 
 worthy a false address, supposing Sheen, with 
 whom he had been drinking and gambling, did not 
 really know where he (Wilford) might be found, 
 did not tend to allay suspicion. Mr. Wilford indig- 
 nantly denied that he had given Sheen a false 
 address. He told him that he lodged at the Golden 
 Cross, Charing- cross. Sheen, whom he had only 
 called upon because he had promised a relative of 
 his established in New York to do so, must have 
 misheard, misunderstood him. 
 
 *^ The Golden Cross, Charing-cross ! Why, that 
 is where Mr. Truman himself, the gentleman whose
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUAEE. 81 
 
 pocket was picked, is staying. I have been there 
 several times to speak with him, but did not, 
 that I remember, see yoiL" 
 
 "Nor do I recollect having seen yoit there/' 
 was the sharp retort; "the one circumstance 
 being just as important, it strikes me, as the other. 
 At all events, you now know where I am to be . 
 found. This is all I have to say, except," added 
 he, swelling and strutting like a turkey cock as he 
 marched out of the office, " except that Bow-street 
 officers are a set of cursed impertinent fellows, if 
 you are a fair sample of the pack." 
 
 The man's bounce did not impose upon me. I 
 had not so neglected opportunities of discerning 
 character, slight as the indices might be, as not to 
 mark my gentleman's quivering furtiveness of 
 aspect, brazen as was the mind mask he assumed. 
 If he had nothing to fear ^vith respect to the 
 robbery of Mr. Truman, which was doubtful, 
 some other ugly secret was assuredly shut up in 
 that bosom of his ; but not so closely that some 
 flashes of a disturbed conscience did not at times 
 gleam through the chinks of his shruuk soul. 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 Forty-eight hours had not passed before it 
 appeared certain that we had made no mistake in 
 suspecting him and his accomplice Sheen of 
 having eased Mr. Truman of his purse. One of 
 the ten-pound Bank of England notes which had 
 been stopped was paid into Sir Peter Pole's bank 
 by Wingrove and Company, spirit merchants, and 
 a highly respectable City i\rm. We received 
 immediate notice from the bank ; and I found that 
 Wingrove's town traveller had taken it in payment 
 of Sheen, whose name appeared upon the back of 
 the note, in the handwriting of the clerk, who said, 
 but that I suspected to be an error, that Sheen^ 
 himself unable to write, had specially requested 
 the agent to do so. At all events, that trick 
 would not much avail. He no doubt believed that 
 the numbers of the stolen notes were unknown; 
 but with true roguish cunning prepared for a 
 defence by being able, should the note be stopped 
 and traced to him, to prove that he himself had 
 insisted that it should be set forth on the back of 
 the note of whom and when the clerk had received 
 it Sheen must have known perfectly well that, if
 
 KO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 83 
 
 not asked to do so, the clerk, a man of business, 
 would have taken the common precaution of being 
 able to identify the note as that received of Sheen 
 for Wingrove and Co. The utterer of the stolen 
 security would have to show how he obtained its • 
 possession, or the inference of guilt would be 
 irresistible. Of a surety we had the child mur- 
 derer on the hip at last. 
 
 Mr. George Perkins (Mr. Wingrove's clerk) went 
 at once with me to Sheen's house. That person was 
 at home ; and to my surprise, said coolly, in answer 
 to my intendedly staggering query, " Of whom did 
 you receive the ten-pound Bank of England note 
 you paid to this gentleman yesterday T' 
 
 " I received that same note of my friend Wilford. 
 I gave him change for it — ten gold sovereigns." 
 
 *' Of your friend Wilford ? And pray where 
 may that friend be met with just now?" 
 
 '' At the Golden Cro^s, no doubt. He has not 
 left this more than a quarter of an hour. Oh, it's 
 no use trying to frighten me, my crowing cockerel 
 of a Runner, about that same note. Beda4 ' if I had 
 not been sure itrwas the rale thing, the divil a bit> 
 
 e—2
 
 84 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 would Mike Sheen have insisted upon having his 
 own name wrote on the back of it. I should like 
 mighty well to have a sackfull of them." 
 
 " This one will, I hope, provide you Tsith board 
 and lodging during the term of your natural life. 
 Don't be covetous. And now please to come with 
 us to the Golden Cross, Charing-cross ; I must 
 speak with your friend Wilford." 
 
 " With all the pleasure in life. I am ready." 
 The man's confident bearing puzzled me ; yet 
 the case seemed to be quite clear. Too much so. 
 I should have been better pleased with a little dash 
 of doubt; to have perceived some rotten twig 
 upon which Sheen and his friend Wilford might 
 be calculating upon to save themselves from des'- 
 truction. The note was unquestionably one of 
 those the numbers of which were known and 
 advertised, and it was admittedly changed for 
 Wilford by Sheen ; both of whom, there could be 
 no reasonable doubt, had seen the advertisement, 
 and knew themselves to be suspected of the 
 robbery ! ,Curious I I did not feel so certain as 
 at first of having bagged the game.
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 85 
 
 Mr. Truman was at the hotel, and him we first 
 spoke with. He at once identified the note, 
 and pointed out his initials, J. T., written very 
 small, at one corner on the back. The waiter con- 
 ducted us to Mr. Wilford's apartment. That in- 
 dividual, who was dining luxuriantly, seemed sur- 
 prised, but not in the least alarmed, at seeing us, 
 begged us to be seated, and blandly asked to be 
 informed of the purport of such a visit. 
 
 "Sheen here," said I, ''declares that he changed 
 this note for you. Is that so T 
 
 " Let me look at it, and I will tell you. Oh, I 
 do not want you to part with its possession for 
 one moment. I only wish to see the back. Yes," 
 said Wilford, after examining the back of the note 
 through a gold eye-glass ; " yes, that is the note 
 Sheen changed for me. There are two sets of 
 initials on it ; at least I suppose J. T. are initial 
 letters ; and mine, E,. W., are written in yet tinier 
 characters on the opposite corner. There is also, 
 you observe, the name of William Williams 
 written in full just above that of Mike Sheen." 
 
 " This is one of the notes of which this gentle-
 
 •86 NO. 12, LOWKDES SQUARE, 
 
 man, Mr. Truman, was robbed the other evening 
 in the pit passage of the Haymarket Theatre. 
 You " 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Officer — Clarke, I believe, is 
 your name — excuse me, Mr. Clarke, but really 
 that is a little too audacious a — a fib, to use a 
 . mild word. There really seems to be a conspiracy 
 to involve rae in some absurd charcre of robbinsf 
 this Mr. Truman. Permit me to tell you — and 
 you also, Mr. Truman — to your face, that I was 
 in possession of this note quite twenty-four hours 
 before you lost, or pretended to lose, your purse in 
 the crowd at the Haymarket playhouse." 
 
 *' That is an audacious lie I" exclaimed Mr. 
 Truman, with heat. " An abominable, infamous 
 lie ! It was safe in my purse when I left the hotel 
 for the theatre." 
 
 " We shall soon see who is the liar," said AVilford, 
 rising and ringing the bell. It was answered by 
 the head- waiter. 
 
 " Mr. Williams/' said Wilford, " please to look 
 at that note in the officer's hand, and say if you 
 know anything about it?" Wiiford's tone and
 
 NO. 12, LOWITOES SQUARE. 87 
 
 manner, as he put the question, were bold enough ; 
 but his glance was restless, eager, and he shifted 
 his gold eye-glass from one hand to the other with 
 nervous, impatient tremor. 
 
 " This note,'" said Mr. William "U'ilUams, after a 
 close and rather prolonged scrutiny of his own 
 vsignature; "this note appears to be — I have, 
 indeed, no doubt it is — that which I changed for 
 this gentleman, Mr. Truman, on the first day of 
 his arrival here ; and not long afterwards, being 
 myself in want of change, I obtained gold for it of 
 this ofentleman, Mr. Wilford. These letters, J. T., 
 were on it when I gave Mr. Truman the change. 
 He himself pointed them cut to me. Both 
 dates are correctly given in this memorandum- 
 Look." 
 
 " It is false !" shouted Mr. Truman, in a tower- 
 ing rage. "I remember perfectly well that you 
 gave me change for a ten-pound Bank of England 
 note, but not this note, which I received — and kept 
 separate, with six others, from the rest — at Cliild's 
 Bank. These seven notes were pinned together, 
 with a private memorandum containing the
 
 88 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 address of the person for whom, being in London, 
 I changed the cheque." 
 
 The waiter, a very respectable person, shrugged 
 his shoulders, quietly remarking that he had 
 changed but one note for Mr. Truman, and this 
 was the note. " My name is on the back ; I can- 
 not be mistaken. I have no more to say," added 
 Mr. William Williams, "and have duties to dis- 
 charge elsewhere." 
 
 *''You can now appreciate the value of Mr. 
 Truman's blustering assertions, which I have no 
 doubt he would not have hesitated to confirm on 
 oath. It is thus men's characters — lives — are 
 often sworn away by unscrupulous, reckless 
 ruflSans! — to " 
 
 "Do you dare call me a reckless ruffian?" 
 roared Truman. *' By the that made me, I 
 
 have a mind to " 
 
 "Keep the peace, Mr. Truman," interposed I. 
 " In my own mind, there is not a shadow of doubt 
 that you believed the note you changed with 
 the waiter was not one of those' you received at 
 Child's. Such mistakes will sometimes occur.
 
 so. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 89 
 
 Mr. Perkins had, I presume, better take tlie 
 note?" 
 
 " Certainly not/' exclaimed Mr. Truman, whose 
 positiveness seemed to be confirmed rather than 
 shaken by what he heard. He evidently be- 
 lieved that the waiter [was a co-conspirator with 
 Sheen and Wilford. "I will not be swindled in 
 this barefaced manner. I insist upon an inves- 
 tigation before a magistrate. I charge both Mr. 
 "Wilford and the murderer Sheen with felony ; and 
 have a mind to include waiter Williams in the 
 charge." 
 
 *' You will do so at your own peril,'" I remon- 
 strated. " The charge will be dismissed at once." 
 
 " I also warn you," said Wilford ; " but such 
 fellows as you need no warning/' he added, with a 
 contemptuous laugh. "Braggarts and bullies 
 almost invariably display a wise discretion when 
 the pinch comes." 
 
 This taunt was unendurable ; and was meant^ I 
 felt sure, to be unendurable by the choleric Sheffield 
 gentleman, who fiercely insisted upon Sheen and 
 W^ilford being taken into custody.
 
 so XO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 "Since the 'gentleman' insists upon it/' said 
 Wilford, " you, Mr, Clarke, had better take us off 
 to Bow-street without further delay. The magis- 
 trate is still sitting, I presume ?" 
 
 **' Yes ; and the case will, I dare say, be heard 
 and decided at once/' 
 
 The case, such as it was, did not last more than 
 ten minutes. After hearing the evidence of Mr. 
 Williams, the magistrate dismissed it without hesi- 
 tation; and, in doing so, administered a severe re- 
 buke to Mr. Truman for giving people into custody 
 upon so untenable a charge. 
 
 "A jury would," added the magistrate, "mulct 
 you in heavy damages for slander and false impri- 
 sonment." 
 
 This was pleasant hearing for the plundered 
 man, who resolved to wash his hands at once and 
 for ever of the detestable business. He was not 
 permitted to so wash his hands very easily. Be- 
 fore he could leave town, where ■ he was detained 
 till he should receive an important letter from 
 America, writs were served upon him at the in- 
 stance of Wilford and Sheen, with whom he was
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 91 
 
 fain to compromise by the payment of one hundred 
 pounds down, exclusive of costs, which could not, 
 however, have amounted to more than a trifling 
 sum. A rather dear visit to the Hayraarket 
 Theatre that ! 
 
 This was not all. There really seemed no end 
 to Mr. Truman's London troubles and peq^lexities. 
 He sent for me in a great hurry one day, to inform 
 me of a fresh misfortune that had befallen him. 
 This was the new story : — Two letters from New 
 York, reposted to him from Sheffield, and delivered 
 at the bar of the hotel on the morning of the day 
 he visited that infernal theatre, he could nov,^here 
 find. He remembered being in a hurry at the 
 time, opening and reading them at the bar, and 
 then thrusting them into his leathern purse or 
 bag ; but his impression was, that upon returning, 
 two or three hours afterwards, to the hotel, he 
 had taken them out of his purse or bag, and locked 
 them up in his portmanteau. There, however, they 
 were not ; and it was possible they went with the 
 bank-notes. That loss did not much signify, as 
 the letters were of no use to any one but himself ;
 
 92 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE, 
 
 but, as the Father of Mischief and Mystery would 
 have it, the letter he had been waiting for, and 
 which it was stated in one of the former letters 
 from New York would contain the address of a 
 certain lady resident in London, whom it was very 
 important he should see, had been delivered that 
 very morning at the bar, placed by the barmaid in 
 the' rack, and now could nowhere be found. It 
 was, the young woman said, a ship-letter, and had 
 been reposted at Sheffield. No question, there- 
 fore, that it was the one he had been waiting in 
 London for. Its disappearance caused him to look 
 for the two before received, and he had made the 
 discovery that they also were missing. 
 
 Letters from New York ! thought I. That 
 is the place Sheen's friend Wilford reports him- 
 self to be last from. The fellow seems to be 
 strangely mixed up with these losses. 
 
 " Did you observe, Mr. Truman," I said, aloud, 
 "if any one saw you open and read the two 
 first letters^ and afterwards thrust them into your 
 cash-bag V 
 
 *' I cannot remember that I did. Several per-
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 93 
 
 sons were passing to and fro. Ah I yes, by Jove I 
 I do remember that that fellow Wilford, whom I 
 did not then know by name, scarcely by sight, was 
 close by, and himself readiog a letter. But what 
 of that, after all ? Letters are not bank-notes," 
 
 " True ; and these letters you say are of no use 
 to any one but yourself?" 
 
 " Of no use whatever ; but the inconvenience of 
 losing them — the last one especially — is great. I 
 must write to New York for the lost address. It 
 will be three months, perhaps more than that, 
 before an answer can be received, and the affair 
 required prompt attention." 
 
 " And you do not even know the lady's name. 
 It is unfortunate ; but I do not see that any- 
 thing can be done, police-wise, ia the matter. 
 Stay. I will try and quietly ascertain if Mr. 
 Wilford has been seen about the bar this 
 morning/' 
 
 " The letter,'' said I, " addressed to Mr. Truman, 
 and delivered at this bar, cannot be found, it seems ? 
 It is very awkward." 
 
 "It is awkward," replied the bar-lady, **I
 
 94 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 cannot imagine who can have got it; but it 
 certainly could not have gone without hands." 
 
 "Do you remember who has been at the bar 
 this morning ?" 
 
 "At post timer 
 . "Yes." 
 
 " Several commercial gents. Mr. Wilford, — but 
 he never misses being here when country letters 
 are delivered. He himself had two American 
 ship-letters this very morning.' We have inquired 
 of him, but he knows nothing about the missing 
 erne." 
 
 " Humph r 
 
 The letter could not be found. There was no 
 help for it. Mr. Truman wrote immediately to 
 New York, and left for Sheffield the next morning, 
 in very bad humour with the world in general and 
 London in particular. 
 
 Within a fortnight, several of the other adver- 
 tised notes turned up, which fact I instantly com- 
 municated to Mr. Truman. That much exasperated 
 gentleman refused at once to have anything more 
 to do wth the abominable business. As for coming
 
 NO. 12, LOW^^)ES SQUAEE. 95 
 
 up to London for the purpose of prosecuting the 
 holders or passers of the stolen notes — which merely 
 meant being bullied by magistrates and fleeced by 
 attorneys — catch him doing so ! The robbers had 
 got his money, and the devil give them joy of it ! 
 
 I need hardly say that I hugely suspected 
 Robert Wilford, not only of picking Mr. Truman's 
 pocket, but of the abstraction of that gentleman's 
 New York letters, some sinister use of which — 
 notwithstanding Mr. Truman's assertion that they 
 were of no value to any one but himself — I had little 
 doubt such an ingenious gentleman could make. 
 >- Soon after Mr. Truman left London, Wilford 
 shifted his quarters from the Golden Cross to the 
 White Horse, Fetter-lane, but continued to pass 
 much of his time at Sheen's, in low debauchery, 
 guzzling, card and skittle-playing, &c. &c. His 
 street appearance did not in the faintest degree 
 indicate the man's habits. He was rather a hand- 
 some feUow; always well and appropriately dressed; 
 and his carriage and manners, when upon his good 
 behaviour, were those of a respectable, fairly-edu- 
 cated man of the world. Why on earth such a
 
 96 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 man should seek companionsliip with Sheen was a 
 strong stimulant to detective zeal, and I very soon 
 transferred my attentions from Sheen to hira. The 
 contemned, the justly contemned publican was, I 
 felt satisfied after a while, innocent of actual rob- 
 bery in the Truman case, though he might have 
 been compelled by inexorable circumstances to 
 wink at his friend's crime and afterwards aid him 
 in passing the plunder. Of this, however, I was 
 by no means sure. 
 
 The potman, Peter Mings, and I — (Mings after- 
 wards kept the Grapes, in St. Martin's-lane, or, 
 rather, the Grapes kept him and a large progeny — 
 a very decent fellow, by the way) — the potman 
 and I were colleagues, in the same sense that a 
 colonel and corporal are comrades, and he let me 
 into a few of the Sheen-house secrets. 
 
 In the first place, Wilford was not going back to 
 New York, whilst the relative of Sheen in that city 
 was himself coming over. There were wheels within - 
 wheels, turning faster and faster, the potman said ; 
 and his opinion Avas that if something warn't 
 done, and quickly too, to put a spoke in 'em, the
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 97 
 
 biggest blackguard of the lot, Wilford, would be 
 safe to come uppermost. 
 
 By " the lot," my tapster friend meant Wilford^ 
 Sheen, and Amos Fletcher, Sheen's New York 
 relative, who had arrived from the Empire City, 
 and was lodging with Wilford at the White Horse, 
 Fetter-lane. 
 
 Peter Mings having called at my lodgings to 
 assure himself with his own eyes that my meta- 
 morphosis into a hackney coachman would pass 
 muster, expressed intense admiration of the make- 
 up. Totally impossible, he was quite satisfied, for 
 anybody to suppose such a respectable old Jarvie 
 could be Clarke, the young and uncommon downy 
 Bow-street Runner. Five was the hour at which 
 the party would want the coach, and I must be sure 
 to be in good time, or he would have to get 
 another conveyance, as dinner would be on the 
 table at No. 12, Lowndes-square, a nobby place, at 
 six exactly. I said there was no fear of my being 
 late, and Peter went his way in high feather. 
 Success in our little game, if the stakes in issue 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 were anything like the amount I believed them to 
 be, would suffice to make him, with the brewer's 
 and spirit merchant's help, landlord of the Grapes 
 and husband of Susan, the pretty barmaid at the 
 Crown, Newport Market. 
 
 Left aloDe, and having two hours good to spare, 
 I, as a cautious general always should on the eve 
 of a decisive battle, again carefully considered the 
 field of action, and calculated the chances of vic- 
 tory or defeat. The position was a pecuHar one. 
 A haze hung over it which might, no question, 
 unduly magnify the relative importance of some 
 circumstances and obscure that of others. 
 
 It had come to my knowledge, entirely by the 
 clever agency of Mings, that Robert Wilford and 
 Amos Fletcher had been of late in the habit of 
 visiting, at 12, Lowndes-square, Chelsea, a middle- 
 aged widowed lady, of the name of Parkinson, who, 
 with two nieces, lived there in very good style. So 
 far Mings ; and even but sof ar, the information, 
 collated with incidents already known to the reader, 
 suggested matter for a hot (Detective) brain to 
 work upon. But by working on my own hook, I
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUAEE. 99 
 
 already knew something mora !Mrs. Parkinson's 
 head housemaid, Mary Saunders, who had once 
 been in the service of Messrs. Swan and Edgar, 
 Leicester-square, was, being an attractive girl, 
 sweetheart to one of the assistants, Paul Corbyu, 
 whom I had a sort of speaking a^jquaintance with, 
 arising from having helped him out of a spree- 
 squabble, which would else have caused his appear- 
 ance on the Monday morning at Bow-street, instead 
 of at his employers' establishment Kow Paul 
 Corbyn was a young gent of '• expectations f that 
 is, he was sole son and heir to a weil-to-do hackney- 
 coach proprietor in Berwick- street, Soho. I forget 
 whether or not Shillibeer and buses were or were 
 not then in existence. The old folk were averse 
 to their son " demeaning" himself by taking a 
 housemaid to wife, pretty as she might be. They 
 had consequently refused to see Mary Saunders ; a 
 source of mortification to that damsel and irritation 
 to Paul Corbyn, as he himself, over a social glass, 
 had told me. This as usual awry course of true 
 love led me^ when spelling over, letter by letter, 
 the Truman, Wilford, Sheen, and Fletcher puzzle, 
 
 7—2
 
 100 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE, 
 
 to certain conclusions. One, which I imparted to 
 Mings, was, that I should like to be hackney-coach- 
 man to the party when next they visited at 12, 
 Lowndes-square ; a matter easily arranged. Another 
 possibility I did not communicate to Peter was, 
 that I might convert Mary Saunders into a potent 
 auxiliary in running the game to earth, supposing, 
 of which I had very little doubt, that something in 
 the way of legitimate sport should turn up. Paul 
 Corbyn, I knew, never paid his personal services to 
 his charmer except when it was her Sunday out. 
 This would not be till the following Sunday week; 
 and it being Monday when I was to first officiate as 
 coachman, I had close upon a fortnight to play out 
 any little subsidiary game. The progress of that 
 game will explain itself. 
 
 Two splendid swells were Robert Wilford and 
 Amos Fletcher, when dressed out in full fig for 
 dinner at 12, Lowndes-square. " No. 12, Lowndes- 
 square, Chelsea,'' said Mr. Wilford, in reply to the 
 interrogative touch of my hat, as I closed the 
 coach-door; *'12, Lowndes-square^ Chelsea; fourth
 
 NO. 12, LOWXDES SQUAEE. 101 
 
 door on the light. Drive sharp; we are rather 
 late." No sign, not the slightest, of recognition, 
 " All right." Sheen, looking very sad and seedy, 
 was standing at the door. He was evidently 
 thrown out of the hunt. 
 
 My coach, by-the-bye, was a glass-coach, so 
 called in those primitive times ; and means a hired 
 vehicle which no outward sign or figure denoted 
 to be a hired vehicle; did not ply for casual 
 hire, and was engaged for a day, afternoon, or 
 evening, as the case might be. The regular hack- 
 ney-coachmen, when so employed, donned a sort of 
 neutral livery. I had done so. 
 
 The glass-coach was in the coachhouse, the 
 horses carefully put up, and I, upon the invitation 
 of the hospitable housekeeper, a crummy dame 
 upon the shady side of fifty, was about sitting down 
 to tea, when Mary Saunders came flouncing into 
 the room, in a somewhat flushed, excited state : 
 ''The dinner, cook, must be put back another 
 hour ! First, six — next, seven — and now eight ! 
 We shall come to having dinner at midnight by 
 • and b}'. Them Passmores from Southampton are
 
 102 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 arrived ia town, arid will be here not later than 
 half-past seven. So, as I say, dinner is put off for 
 them till eight o'clock. And what a lot there will 
 be : I'm sure I and Anne shan't be able to wait 
 upon them all, especially with Stephen laid up 
 with the rheumatics! In fact, I never undertook 
 to wait at table at all, or to dress the young ladies, 
 though I don't so much mind that ; but I'm fairly 
 worn off my legs — I am, indeed !" This last para- 
 graph was addressed confidentially to me, the house- 
 keeper having bolted to see " cook" the moment 
 she heard that dinner was again postponed. I 
 improved the opportunity. (Mary was really a 
 very nice girl. Paul Corbyn, my fine fellow, you 
 might go further and fare worse.) This parenthesis 
 was of course a mental one. 
 
 '•' Sarvants, miss, the wery best of 'em, is imposed 
 upon almost al'ays. Sarvice, miss, as I says to my 
 son, who don't consider things as I does — not 
 having so much experience you see, miss, of the 
 world as we old 'uns have — * Sarvice, Paul,' says I, 
 * is no heritage' No more it ain't, miss. Uncom- 
 mon nice tea !"
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 103 
 
 " Have you a son of the name of Paul ?" asked 
 the highly-coloured damsel — Nature's paint ! it 
 could not have been bought in Bond-street at 
 any price — " have you a son of the name of 
 Paul?" 
 
 "I have, miss, — wuss luck,— I was a goin' to 
 say ; — ^but I wont — no, certainly not. He've a 
 took up, miss, as I've heered by a friend who I put 
 on the watch, with a sarvant-gal somewhere in 
 Chelsea. Leastways, my friend supposes so, having 
 met 'em together here three or four times on 
 Sunday afternoons. A coarse-featured, squabby 
 creetur, my friend says. Black hair, coarse as 
 whip-cord, gipsy-skin, and greasy heels — I can't 
 abide greasy heels, in gals or 'osses — (Mary Saun- 
 ders was fair as alabaster; her hair a silky auburn, 
 her foot and ankle of the prettiest, neatest pattern). 
 I am surprised at Paul. Excuse me, miss ; I see 
 you can't make out why a stranger should talk to 
 you about his son's wagaries. Of course you can't 
 The thing is, I was thinking that if so be it had 
 been such a young 'ooman as you, now, that Paul 
 Corbyn had took up with, I shouldn't mind.'^
 
 104 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 " Do you — do you " — palpitated the damsel — 
 the words upheaved from her sensitive bosom — 
 *' do you live in Berwick-street, Soho ?" 
 
 " We do indeed. Occupies all the Mews there, 
 miss. Seven hacks and four glass coaches a'most 
 al'ays goin' ! Not a bad ketch, Paul." 
 
 " Perhaps, Mr. Corbyn," exclaimed the damsel, 
 bridling, with a complacent glance at an opposite 
 mirror, " perhaps, Mr. Corbyn, the young person 
 —the — h-em — the servant whom your- son keeps 
 company with may not be the coarse sort of 
 individual described by your friend. Quite the 
 reverse, perhaps. How do you know,'' she added, 
 with a yet rosier blush and a merry giggle, " how 
 do you know that he has not fallen in love with 
 her himself? she being, it may be, pretty as I 
 am. Now don't," she added, first glancing round 
 to see that the coast continued clear, " don't try 
 to keep it up any longer. You are come to see 
 Mary Saunders with your own eyes ; and so — 
 there ! — and there ! — and there ! — Oh, I say ! Good 
 gracious 1 Did you ever V 
 
 Upon my word, those daughter-in-law kisses —
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 105 
 
 " There ! there ! there 1" — threw me for the mo- 
 ment quite off my balance, making me oblivious 
 that I was between fifty and sixty. I recovered 
 the sedate gravity of that age mth some 
 difficulty. 
 
 " Like son, like father, my dear. You 
 shouldn't be surprised. It runs in the family. 
 The old "ooman, you'll find, wont be any harder 
 to make it up with than Andrew Corbyn hisself. 
 But TauTKi must be the word — even to Paul, my 
 dear, for a time — for various reasons. Only for a 
 short time — say a fortnight." 
 
 I then explained that I had a double motive in 
 coming to Lowndes-square in the character of one 
 of my own coachmen. The first she had herself 
 discovered ; the second was, that it behoved me to 
 find out who the gentlemen really were I had 
 drove down, and what their business really was 
 with Mrs. Parkinson and her nieces. 
 
 " It's a secret, my dear," I added ; " and it's of 
 great consequence I should get to the bottom of 
 it Very great consequence to you and Paul, my 
 dear, also. If one on 'em aint a goin' to marry a
 
 106 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 ricli lady, as lie gives out, I am booked for a heavy 
 figure, I am." 
 
 " Borrowed money, eh ? Dear me ! But I 
 don't think there's much doubt. I'm afraid Mr. 
 Truman will marry " 
 
 " Truman— Truman !" I blurted out. " What 
 do you know about Mr. Truman V 
 
 "How strange you talk. Wern't you asking 
 about Mr. Truman,, the youngest of the gents you 
 drove down ? — though there aint much difference, 
 judging by looks, between him and Mr. Fletcher." 
 
 Truman ! Ah, ah ! I was fly in a moment. 
 That slight glimpse beneath Master Wilford's 
 cards fully explained the disappearance of the 
 New York letters from the bar of the Golden 
 Cross ; but what particular game he was playing it 
 was necessary to discover if I was to make sure of 
 the odd trick. 
 
 " Mary," said I, " excuse my freedom. It seems 
 to me that I have known you ever so long ; that the 
 parson must have said grace, and made you and 
 Paul better and worse months ago. But this is it, 
 my dear. I Tfiust — you shall know more of the
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 107 
 
 whys and the wherefores soon — I Tnust find out all 
 about these slippery coves, unbeknown to them- 
 selves,'you understand/' 
 
 The reappearance of the housekeeper interrupted 
 our colloquy. 
 
 "Mr. Harrison, the lawyer, is expected every 
 minute,'" said she. " You must get tea ready for 
 him in the green-room. Mr. Harrison is one of 
 the old schooV added the housekeeper, addressing 
 me ; " he takes dinner about one or two, and 
 has only tea here when he comes about this 
 time." 
 
 " I knew there was something more than 
 common going on to-day," said Mary. "The 
 dinner wasn't put off till eight o'clock for the 
 Passmores. Not a bit of it. Mr. Truman and his 
 friend are in a hurry to get the settlements done, 
 and I shouldn't a bit wonder if the licences have 
 been brought down to-day, and " 
 
 " A still tongue shows a wise head," interrupted 
 the housekeeper, severely. " Least said is soonest 
 mended. Always bear that in mind, particularly 
 when a stranger is present."
 
 108 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 Mary, hearing that, rose hastily, and left the 
 roona with an air and look at me becoming an 
 engaged voung woman whose father-in-law that 
 was soon to be occupied the whole of the mews in 
 Berwick-street, Soho, and kept seven hackney and 
 four glass coaches almost always going. 
 
 And here I may remark over my tea with the 
 housekeeper, before Miss Mary Saunders returns, 
 that I don't consider there was anything immoral, 
 professionally speaking, in passing myself off as 
 Andrew Corbyn. I was quite sure the real Andrew 
 and his old 'ooman would not prove obdurate. My 
 little ruse was merely affording the pretty damsel 
 a foretaste of the good fortune, as she considered 
 it, which awaited her in the near future. I must, 
 however, admit that in a detective training school 
 a professor of moral philosophy would be rather a 
 hindrance than a help to the proficiency of the 
 pupils. 
 
 *•' Mr. Sims" — my jarvie name — "Mr. Sims," said 
 Mary, as she re-entered the room, " Mr. Truman. 
 wishes to speak with you. I will conduct you to 
 him."
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. ]09 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, Mr. Corbyn," said Mary, 
 as soon as we were out of hearing ; " Mr. Truman 
 has not asked for you ; but as he, Fletcher, Mrs. 
 Parkinson, Harrison, the lawyer, and I suppose 
 the young ladies, will be confabbing together pre- 
 sently in the breakfast-room, I thought you might 
 like to hear, as I should myself, what they are 
 up to/' 
 
 " My dear girl " 
 
 " Don't speak so loud, or better don't speak at 
 all, and tread softly." 
 
 Mary Saunders led me through the breakfast or 
 green-room, an apartment opening upon a con- 
 servatory through a door of stained glass. The 
 chandelier was already lit, and no one in the 
 thickly-shrubbed conservatory could possibly be 
 seen from the room, whilst every object in the 
 room would be seen distinctly visible to whoever 
 was concealed there. By leaving the door ajar, as 
 Mary and I ascertained by experiment, I should 
 be able to hear every word — the sKghtest whisper — 
 uttered within. The device was admirable. There 
 was also a way out of the conservatory into the
 
 110 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUAEE. 
 
 garden — a great convenience — should such a move- 
 ment on my part become desirable. 
 
 The important business which brought !Mr. 
 Harrison to 12, Lowndes-square occupied a con- 
 siderable time, the hitch being a tearful, sobbing 
 reluctance on the part of the nieces to sign certain 
 documents laid before them. They appeared to be 
 timid young persons — gentle, amiable, no doubt — 
 but not at all handsome. The overbearing vehe- 
 mence of Mrs. Parkinson finally prevailed : the 
 papers were signed, sealed ; which done, the Misses 
 Benson retired. A supplementary deed was 
 then produced, securing to ^Irs. Pcxrkinson seven 
 thousand pounds, to be paid over to her in equal 
 shares by Truman and Fletcher the day after their 
 union with the nieces. Mrs. Parkinson, it also 
 appeared, would soon change her name to that of 
 Passmore. 
 
 The curtain had risen upon the last scene of the 
 play. I held the conspirators in the hollow of my 
 hand. 
 
 It was near two o'clock in the morning before
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUAIUE. Ill 
 
 the merry party broke up. Pulling up at the door 
 of the Bow-street police office, whither I had taken 
 the liberty of driving Messrs. Wilford and Fletcher, 
 who during the drive had been in riotous spirits, I 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Now, gents, here we are, with friends to 
 welcome us. Please to dismount/' 
 
 "Eh! What the devil!" exclaimed Wilford, 
 starting up in terrible alarm. " This is not 
 Sheen's!" 
 
 "jSiot exactly. I thought a change of scene 
 might be of service. Now, !Mr. Wilford — now, 
 Mr. Fletcher — no nonsense." 
 
 The search of the persons and luggage of the 
 culprits afforded more than sufficient evidence to 
 convict them of a felonious conspiracy to obtain 
 possession of the persons and property of Isabella 
 and Catherine Benson. Those young persons 
 (orphans) had been bequeathed about fifteen 
 thousand pounds each, by Mr. Silas Benson, of 
 New York, who had emigrated to America in 
 early youth. Their aunt, Mrs. Parkinson, was 
 appointed their guardian ; and the young ladies
 
 112 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 were to be placed in possession of the legacies on 
 the day they married with her consent. Wilford 
 and Fletcher had both been in Mr. Silas Benson's 
 employ, and by some means had made themselveS 
 perfectly aware of the disposition of his property 
 and other particulars, the knowledge of which was 
 essential to the successful carrying out of their 
 nefarious scheme. They, for example, knew that a 
 relative and partner of the deceased Benson, who 
 was well acquainted with Mr. Truman, of Sheffield, 
 intended writing to that gentleman, with whom 
 the firm had had extensive business transactions, 
 requesting him to call on Mrs. Parkinson, whose 
 address he would not for a few days be able to 
 obtain, and look after the interests of the two 
 orphan girls. It was as Truman's son that Wilford, 
 with the aid of the letters he purloined, success- 
 fully imposed himself and his friend Fletcher upon 
 the aunt. 
 
 The licence which had been procured two or 
 three days previously, authorized the union of 
 Bobert Truman, otherwise Robert Wilford, with 
 Isabella Benson. The plot was frustrated but
 
 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 113 
 
 just in time, and, as Mings admitted after the 
 transportation of the two scoundrels, by infor- 
 mation given him on the sly by Sheen, who, whilst 
 they were at large, was afraid or ashamed to betray 
 their plot. 
 
 Mary Saunders had not long to wait for a hus- 
 band. The genuine Andrew Corbyn was so migh- 
 tily tickled by the account which appeared, in the 
 papers — the young woman's own evidence as given 
 before the magistrate — of the vivacious part he had 
 been made to play in the affair, that he and his 
 old 'ooman called the same day he read it to see 
 her, took as fatherly a fancy to her as I had simu- 
 lated, set his son Paul up in the drapery business, 
 and himself gave him the pretty housemaid to 
 wife. I was invited to the wedding, but was pre- 
 vented from attending by a sudden call elsewhere. 
 I frequently saw them afterwards, and am still 
 friends with both, as well as with their sons, 
 daughters, and grandchildren. 
 
 The only legal cognizance taken of Mrs. Parkin- 
 son's conduct in the matter was an application to 
 the Court of Chancery to deprive her of the trus- 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 JJ4 NO. 12, LOWNDES SQUARE. 
 
 teeship of the nieces' fortunes. It was unopposed ; 
 and Mr. Truman, senior, as suggested by their 
 relative at New York, appointed in her stead. 
 
 I never directly again heard of either the Tru- 
 ro ans or the Bensons, and cannot, therefore, posi- 
 tively say that either of the young ladies became 
 a Mrs. Truman. I think I remember that when, 
 many years after, I was passing through Sheffield, 
 the landlord of the inn at which I stopped for a 
 short time told me he thought the maiden name 
 of one of the Mrs. Trumans was Benson, and 
 that she had a maiden sister living with her.
 
 115 
 
 MY riRST TEIP ACROSS TRE 
 ATLANTIC. 
 
 The attempted murder of his wife by William 
 Jones, who kept a coffee-house in High-street, 
 Marylebone, caused me to be hurried off on a 
 sudden to Abergavenny, Monmouthshire. The 
 woman — of whom Jones was justly jealous — ulti- 
 mately, many will remember, recovered from the 
 terrible injuries inflicted by the infuriated hus- 
 band ; but at the time I left London in pursuit of 
 the criminal her life was in imminent danger. 
 
 Jones was a native of Abergavenny, and from 
 information — purposely misleading information — 
 which reached the office, we were induced to be- 
 lieve that he had run to earth there, and might be 
 found at his uncle's, a respectable tradesman, car- 
 rying on business in the High-street. Jones had 
 •not, however, been seen there ; and so far as he was 
 
 8—2
 
 116 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 concerned, my journey 'was a bootless one. It was 
 soon afterwards discovered that he had embarked 
 at Plymouth, for America; and as his wife — a 
 thoroughly bad Avoman — did not die, no further 
 effort was made to capture him. My expedition 
 to Monmouthshire had, however, important though 
 remote results. 
 
 The month was March, the weather bitterly 
 cold ; and I was not a little pleased to find that, the 
 second-class carriages being already filled when I 
 arrived on the platform, the Company were com- 
 pelled to accommodate me with a first-class 
 seat. 
 
 Two other persons rode in the same carriage, 
 the destination of both the same as mine — Aber- 
 gavenny. One of them I knew to be Mr. Marsden, 
 a "gentleman about town," very respectably con- 
 nected, once possessed of ample means long since 
 squandered, and married to one of the most beau- 
 tiful women I have ever seen. Mrs. Marsden I had 
 taken to be nine or ten years younger than her 
 husband, though his age could not much exceed 
 five-and-thirty. He knew me well enough ; but of
 
 MY FIRST TKIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 117 
 
 course did not condescend to any word or glance of 
 recognition. 
 
 The other was a person of quite a different 
 stamp. The snows of at least fifty w^inters had 
 whitened his hair ; but in other respects he 
 showed but shght signs of advanced age, especially 
 not by his tongue, which could scarcely have been 
 more voluble at twenty. His incessant talk upon 
 all conceivable subjects — the weather, politics, lite- 
 rature, theatres — was, however, saved from becom- 
 ing insufferable, as his countenance was from 
 absolute plainness, by its intellectual character. It 
 was not long before I knew that he was a gentle- 
 man of the Press, a writer of books, and, if I did 
 not misunderstand him, had written or concocted, 
 whichever may be the right term, pantomimes for 
 the stage — Mother Goose, Harlequin Hunch- 
 back, or some such nonsense. At all events, I 
 knew soon after we passed Worcester that he was 
 about to play a remarkable part — harlequin and 
 pantaloon combined into one, ill-natured people 
 might have said; our stately, select compa- 
 nion looked that remark plain enough, though he
 
 did not venture to give it words — in a pantomime 
 of real life. 
 
 I should state that the weather was, as I have 
 said, exceedingly cold. The hilarious gentleman had 
 drunk rather freely at Worcester of spirits and water. 
 
 " What sort of a place is Abergavenny ?" I asked, 
 as v/e reseated ourselves. 
 
 " Cannot say, sir. Never was within a hundred 
 miles of it before in my life ; perhaps never shall 
 be again. I am even now merely bound there 
 on, to me, a very interesting voyage of dis- 
 covery." 
 
 "' Voyage of discovery ! Discovery of what ?" 
 
 " Of a widow. To ascertain, that is to say, by 
 the sensible and true avouch of my own eyes, if a 
 lady whom I knew and was very spooney about 
 when she was fifteen, and I two or three and 
 twenty, whom I have not seen since, nor heard of 
 till very lately, sufficiently resembles that young 
 girl to induce me, she consenting, to commit matri- 
 mony. If so, well ; if not, it is but returning to 
 London by the next train up. A sensible errand 
 eh?'' •
 
 MY FIEST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 119 
 
 " I can hardly think so. I would lay odds you 
 do not recognise each other !" 
 
 "- What may be the widow's name ?" asked Mr. 
 Marsden, with a sneering laugh, speaking almost 
 for the first time, " I know 'Abergavenny well ; 
 and may be able to end your suspense at once." 
 
 '' The widow's name," was the prompt retort, in 
 an entirely changed tone, " is not Fanny Morris ; 
 nor do I think Mr. Ernest Marsden can be so 
 well acquainted with Abergavenny as I am with 
 himr 
 
 I was perfectly astounded at this speech, not 
 having imagined that the "gentleman of the 
 Press" knew even Mr. Marsden's name, much less 
 that he was acquainted with the sad story of 
 Fanny Morris. Marsden himself was equally 
 astonished, darted at the speaker a look of fierce 
 rage, and, for a moment, appeared about to 
 assault him ; he, however, restricted himself to 
 a muttered curse, sank back in his seat, and did 
 not utter another word during the journey. 
 
 " I may be partial and over- confident," continued 
 the romantic traveller, handing me a miniature on
 
 120 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 ivory ; " hut I certainly think it possible that the 
 face and form here represented may be found, after 
 making a very large allowance for the wear and 
 tear of even a quarter of a century, still worth 
 looking at. What do you say ?" 
 
 No doubt about it, if the limner had not 
 grossly flattered her ! A very charming girl ! 
 Sweet hazel eyes ; exquisitely chiselled nose and 
 mouth ; bright, clear complexion ; flowing auburn 
 tresses ; sylphlike, elastic figure ; the ensemble 
 sparkling, glowing, waving in the light of at most 
 sixteen golden summers, made up the very heaio 
 ideal of an English girl. The dominant ex- 
 pression of the face was that of a fresh, joyous 
 vivacity — the freshness of a morning of spring, 
 over which is beginning to steal the warmer light 
 of earliest summer; the vivacity that of a buoyant, 
 delighted, and delighting spirit. I expressed 
 myself in some such terms, much to the gratifica- 
 tion of the elderly lover, who assured me that the 
 painter had not done more than justice to his 
 charming subject. "But surely," exclaimed I, 
 " those features are not unfamiHar to me. I have
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 121 
 
 seen, spoken to the lady — I feel sure of that — when 
 she was, however, some eight or nine years older than 
 when this portrait was painted. To be sure I did, 
 in Dublin. Both the lady and her husband were 
 chief witnesses in a case which you, Mr. Marsden, 
 must remember well. The once much-talked-of 
 Curzon trial !" 
 
 Marsden did not deign to reply, and little more 
 was said till we reached Abergavenny ; the talking 
 traveller, by way of change, and influenced I sup- 
 posed by the sight of the portrait, subsiding into 
 song — that of " My pretty Jane, my dearest Jane," 
 which Sims Reeves has since rendered so popular ; 
 humming away in a style that, but that I was kept 
 awake by the necessity of stamping my feet and 
 striking my arms smartly together to keep myself 
 from freezing, would have droned me off to sleep 
 in no time. A private carriage was waiting for 
 Marsden, into which he immediately vanished and 
 drove off. The fifty-year-old enthusiast, partially 
 recovered from his " Pretty Jane, "but getting, 
 I plainly saw, terribly nervous as the deciding 
 moment drew near, proceeded with me by 'bus to
 
 122 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 the Angel Hotel. There I left him whilst I went 
 to look after William Jones, with what success the 
 reader already knows. 
 
 It was useless to remain in Abergavenny, so I 
 determined to leave by the 10 a:^l train the next 
 day. I felt some curiosity to ascertain how my 
 travelling companion — (I did not know his name for 
 some time afterwards, and I will now write it — 
 Russell) — I felt some curiosity to ascertain how my 
 travelling companion had fared with the widow. 
 
 " Is the gentleman," I asked the servant, who 
 brought me hot water, &c., in the morning — "is 
 the gentleman who came with me last evening up 
 
 yet?" 
 
 " 0, yes, sir ; just coming down to breakfast." 
 
 "Do you knov^ if he returns to London this 
 morning ?" 
 
 " 0, certainly not, sir. Bespoke bed and private 
 room for a month, sir." 
 
 " All right. Lay for two. I shall breakfast with 
 my friend." 
 
 I did not want to ask any further questions 
 upon the interesting subject, as in less than two
 
 ilY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 123 
 
 minutes afterwards Kussell was descendins: the 
 stairs, singing at the top of his voice, " She's all 
 my fancy painted her \" 
 
 " I have no occasion to ask," said I, reciproca- 
 ting his jolly shake- hands when I entered the 
 breakfast-room, " whether it's mizzling or matri- 
 mony 1 God's painting not brushed out yet, 
 eh r , 
 
 '^ Improved, sir ! Mellowed by time ! That is 
 to say — for I am not quite a superannuated fool — 
 mellowed by time to suit my more advanced taste. 
 But I have something to tell you. Marsden has a 
 hunting-box here ; not far from Llanover Park — 
 seat of Sir Benjamin Hall, M.P. for Marylebone, 
 you know — distant four or five miles from Aber- 
 gavenny. There lives with him a lady, who 
 passes for his wife ; not a young woman either. 
 My wife — no, no ; Avhat an ass I am ! — the widcnv 
 says she was a Mrs. Fotheringay. Ah, yes, she 
 knows all about Iter. Mrs. F. was born in Queen's 
 County, Ireland ; and somewhere there her 
 relations reside. Queer, don't you think ? Why, 
 the fellow seems to have as many wives as
 
 ]24 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 Blue Beard had ! only don't kill 'em off like him. 
 I suspect on account that Jack Ketch is not, 
 as yet, an obsolete tradition in this country, 
 unworthy of the enlightened nineteenth century." 
 
 I did not at the time attach much importance to 
 Mr. Marsden having a wife, "not a young woman," 
 residing with him at a shooting-box, a few miles 
 distant from Abergavenny. Full eight years 
 passed away; when I was fain to send the sub- 
 joined advertisement to the Times, having made 
 many fruitless inquiries previously to discover the 
 whereabouts of the gentleman who travelled with 
 me to Monmouthshire. It was certainly odd, as 
 I afterwards reflected, that garrulous as he was, 
 neither his own name nor that of the widow had 
 slipped from his fluent tongue : — 
 
 " Very Important ! — If the gentleman who, in 
 the month of March, eight years ago, travelled 
 from Paddington-station to Abergavenny, in a 
 first-class carriage, with Mr. Clarke, a detective 
 police-officer, and who himself was at the time 
 bound upon a voyage of discovery — the discovery
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 125 
 
 of a widow — will send his address to the Magis- 
 trate's-office, Bow-street, Covent-garden, he may 
 be able, it is believed^ to render a sorely-beset 
 lady an inestimable service/' 
 
 This advertisement, upon which 1, after all, placed 
 but a shadowy reliance at the best, was repeated 
 at least twenty times without effect. The circum- 
 stances which led to its insertion require to be set 
 forth at some length. 
 
 I have said that Mr. Ernest Marsden's wife — his 
 recognised wife — was one of the most beautiful 
 women I have ever seen, and considerably younger 
 than he. Also, that lie had dissipated, in a wild 
 course of life, the ample means, or nearly so, which 
 he inherited. He contrived, however, to keep 
 afloat for about three years after we travelled 
 together to Abergavenny. By then his affairs had 
 become utterly desperate ; and he had no resource, 
 if he would avoid practically perpetual imprison- 
 ment, but to attempt fighting his way through the 
 Insolvency Court or to fly the country. The fell 
 sergeant Death was, however, just as strict in his 
 arrest, — a grave, the prison, from which another
 
 126 MY FIRST TEIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 fiat than that of an Insolvent tribunal could only- 
 release him. Attempting to cross over from 
 Ljrmington, Hampshire, to the Isle of Wight, in an. 
 open boat with some boon companions, whilst a 
 rough sea was on, the frail skiff capsized, and all 
 embarked in it were drowned. It was mid-day 
 when the accident occurred, and that none in the 
 boat escaped, was seen by many persons on the 
 Lymington beach. All the bodies were ultimately 
 washed on shore, — every one horribly disfigured, 
 and recognisable only by their clothes. That of 
 Ernest Marsden was so identified. There could be 
 no question as to his fate, as. he had been seen to 
 go into the boat by many persons. The news, — 
 not, one would suppose, very bad news, — reached 
 Mrs. Marsden at her father's house. Cranberry 
 Lodge, Seven Oaks, Kent, where she had been 
 residing for the previous two years. I am but im- 
 perfectly acquainted vA\h. the family history of the 
 Davenants of Kent ; but, as I understood the 
 matter, Lucy Lambton, daughter of the Bev. 
 George Lambton, was not esteemed a fitting match 
 for his only nephew and heir, by Sir Hichard
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 127 
 Davenant, of Elms Park, — a very wealthy bache- 
 lor-baronet. The young lady, though only rich in 
 God-gifts, was as proud as Sir Richard himself, 
 peremptorily declined the suit of young Da- 
 venant, who urged a private, clandestine marriage, 
 and accepted the hand of Ernest Marsden — just 
 then come into possession of a good estate in the 
 neighbourhood of Cranberry Lodge. The uncle- 
 barpnet had been gathered to his fathers several 
 years before the accident occurred off Lymington ; 
 but his successor, Sir Henry Davenant, faithful to 
 his first flame, was still unappropriated, unpro- 
 mised, when that liberating catastrophe took place. 
 A decent interval was allowed to elapse — quite 
 sufficient to dry up the few natural tears the beau- 
 teous and still youthful widow may have shed — 
 when Sir Henry again preferred his suit, and 
 which, there being no hunks of an uncle in the 
 way, was graciously accepted. Sir Henry lived 
 but two years after his marriage. He was thrown 
 from his horse at a fox hunt, and killed on the 
 spot, leaving issue two sons, Henry and Charles, the 
 last a posthumous child. The landed Davenant
 
 128 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 estates were strictly entailed on the eldest son; 
 but there was a large amount of disposable pro- 
 perty, wbicb had been settled upon Lady Davenant, 
 with remainder to the younger children, should 
 she have any. 
 
 It is scarcely possible to imagine a more feli- 
 citous position than that of Lady Davenant. The 
 world, with all which it inherits, was, in a practical 
 sense, at her feet : the present, brilliant ! the 
 future, bright, calm, cloudless ! Vanity of vanities : 
 All is vanity, saith the preacher — and not only the 
 inspired penman who traced the sacred text, but he 
 who teacheth by examples which confront us at 
 every turn of the strange, changeful road of life. 
 And a more striking example than that afforded by 
 Lady Davenant could hardly be found. 
 
 She was found one morning by her personal 
 attendant, lying insensible on the carpet of her 
 houoioir, — an open letter, which had been delivered 
 at Elm Park a short time previously, held tightly 
 in her clutched hand. Of course, proper restora- 
 tives were promptly applied, and it was not long 
 before Lady Davenant was perfectly conscious that
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 129 
 
 she was suddenly hurled down from her high 
 estate, into an abyss of degradation, misery, shame, 
 — if shame can attach to those who, in intention,^ 
 are wholly blameless. 
 
 The letter was from Captain Lambton, her 
 brother, then serving with his regiment at Quebec, 
 Lower Canada ; and contained a frightful revela- 
 tion. Ernest Marsden was alive — well ; had called 
 upon, spoken, and sought to make a bargain, as the 
 price of remaining dead to the world, with the 
 brother of Lady Davenant, so called, — of whose 
 marriage with Sir Henry Davenant, and subsequent 
 death of the young baronet, he professed to have 
 only recently heard. The story he told was, that 
 supposing himself followed to Lymington by a 
 sheriff's officer, who might be lying in wait for 
 him, he prevailed upon 'one of his friends to pri- 
 vately exchange clothes with him (his own dress 
 being one of peculiar fashion), and embark with the 
 others for Yarmouth. This would throw the officers, 
 supposed to be on the look-out, off the scent ; and 
 if the counterfeit Ernest Marsden should be 
 arrested, his detention would be a short one. So 
 
 VOL. L . * 9
 
 130 MY FIRST TEIP ACROSS THE ATLANUa 
 
 agreed, so done ; the real Marsden leaving Lyming- 
 ton secretly, long before dawn, for Southampton, 
 where he embarked for Havre de Grace, and 
 finally found his way to the States and British 
 America. Should his offer — a large sum down and 
 a well -secured bouncing annuity — be refused, he 
 would at once return to England, face and settle 
 (through the Court) with his creditors, and insist 
 upon his wife returning to cohabitation with him. 
 On the same day that Lady Davenant received 
 her brother's letter, she wrote to her late father's 
 solicitor, Mr. Ames, of Gray's Inn, requesting his 
 immediate presence at Elms Park. He set off 
 thither at once, and upon his return sent for me. 
 It had chanced that I was once in professional 
 communication with him, in regard to Fanny 
 Morris, one of Marsden's victims, who had forced 
 her way, in search of the seducer, into Mrs. 
 Marsden's presence, expecting to meet him. The 
 unhappy girl — mad, desperate — behaved so out- 
 rageously, that it was necessary to send for the 
 police. Forcibly ejected from the house, and 
 warned not to go there again, Fanny Morris con-
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 131 
 
 cealed herself in the neighbourhood till Marsden 
 came home ; again went to the house, and with 
 loud outcries, demanded to see, to speak with him. 
 Thrust out — chased away by his order, given by 
 him in her hearing — the ruined girl, about an hour 
 afterwards, crawled, unobserved, to the front en- 
 trance; knocked, rang, and, when the door opened, 
 fell headlong into the hall. She had taken poison 
 (laudanum), and came there to die. The dose was 
 not, however, sufficiently powerful ; and, in a few 
 days, she was sufficiently well to leave Sevenoaks, 
 by coach for London, where it was said Marsden 
 met and renewed his illicit connexion with her. 
 I was employed by Mr. Ames, acting by direction 
 of the Reverend Mr. Lambton, to ascertain the 
 truth or falsehood of that report. I failed to do so. 
 All that I could discover concerning her was that 
 she had been met at the London coach- office by a 
 highly respectable-looking middle-aged lady, with 
 whom she went away in a cab. An advertisement 
 procured me a meeting with the cabman — a quite 
 useless one ; all he knew being that he drove the 
 two females to the AVhite Bear coach-office, Picca- 
 9-2
 
 132 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 dilly, where he set them down. Whither or in what 
 direction they then proceeded, though I persevered 
 during several weeks, I was unable to ascertain. I 
 convinced myself, however, and Mr. Ames, that 
 Mr. Marsden was as ignorant of Fanny Morris's 
 abode as ourselves. 
 
 " This is a very terrible business," said Mr. Ames, 
 after placing in strictest confidence Lady Dave- 
 nant's cruel position clearly before me ; " and, as I 
 fear, beyond remedy. But drowning men catch at 
 straws; and remembering that some years ago, 
 when we were talking over the Fanny Morris affair, 
 you mentioned having heard that Marsden had a 
 wife, or lived with a woman — not ' a gay person' — 
 
 who passed for his wife, somewhere in Wales " 
 
 " In Monmouthshire, near Abergavenny." 
 *' Ah, yes ! Remembering that, I say, it occurred 
 to me that it was just possible the reckless scoun- 
 drel might have been already a husband when he 
 espoused Miss Lambton, and that the woman living 
 v/ith him near Abergavenny was really his wife. 
 Such a fellow would not be likely to cohabit in
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 133 
 
 obscurity with an ageing woman unless bound to 
 her by some tie which could not be broken or cast 
 off without peril to himself. At all events, the 
 chance of discovering that to be the case must not 
 be neglected, and I confide in you to make the 
 necessary inquiries." 
 
 I agreed to do so ; set off the next day for Aber- 
 gavenny; on my return sent the advertisement, 
 already given, to the Times; left for Ireland; 
 scoured the Queen's County in vain search of 
 Fotheringay ; and was disposed to utterly despair 
 of success, when light broke in upon the gloom 
 from an unexpected quarter. 
 
 " One Fanny ]\Iorris," said my landlady, "who has 
 been to the office in Bow-street, wishes to see you.'* 
 
 " Fanny Morris ! Say I will be with her in less 
 than two twos." 
 
 Fanny Morris, indeed ! But what a wonderful 
 improvement for the better in her appearance. She 
 was not finely dressed, as when I had last seen her — 
 her clothes were indeed of the homeliest quality 
 and make ; but she was neatness itself, and the wild, 
 haggard look, grimly visible through thickest paint,
 
 134 MY" FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 was replaced by the glow of health and content- 
 ment — not, however, untinged with a shade of 
 sadness. I very heartily congratulated her. 
 
 "I have been rescued from destruction," she 
 said, " by compassionate friends ; one of whom 
 you yourself, I find by an advertisement which I 
 first saw about three hours ago only, are desirous of 
 meeting with — Mr. Russell." 
 
 "Mr. Eusselll" 
 
 "Yes; the gentleman who travelled with you 
 and Marsden to Abergavenny when he was bound 
 there on a voyage of discovery. I have heard him 
 and ' the Widow' — Mrs. Russell, of course — laugh 
 over the story many times. I have been in their 
 service from the day of their marriage. Mr. Rus- 
 sell knew me when I was a ballet-dancer at Drury- 
 lane ; and when the news of my sin and shame 
 reached him through the newspapers, he prevailed 
 upon his maiden sister to visit me at Sevenoaks, 
 and offer me a home in her house as housemaid. 
 I yielded to her entreaties with reluctance, and 
 bless God every day of my life for giving me the 
 grace to do so/'
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 135 
 
 "How is it that Mr. and Mrs. Russell have not 
 seen the advertisement V 
 
 '•' For the very sufficient reason that they have 
 been travelling in France, Germany, and other 
 countries during the last four months, and did not, 
 I suppose, often see the Times. They will arrive 
 home. No. 27, Great Ormond-street, to-morrow. I 
 had a letter yesterday to say so. Mr. Kussell will, 
 I am sure, be glad to see and assist you in any way. 
 When shall I say you will call ?" 
 
 "About noon on the day after to-morrow, if 
 that hour will be convenient." 
 
 Fanny Morris had no doubt that it would. 
 
 " By-the-bye, Mr. Russell is quite satisfied, I 
 suppose, with the result of his voyage of dis- 
 covery ?" 
 
 " He would be a queer man if he were not satis- 
 fied with one of the best wives in the world. I need 
 hardly say," added Fanny Morris, with a laugh, 
 " that she is neither so young nor so pretty as the 
 portrait her husband showed you ; but for all that, 
 ther§ are hundreds of women not half her age, and 
 far from uncomelv, who would give somethinoj to
 
 186 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 see her face and figure in the glass when they 
 themselves look into it. Good-bye ! I shall see 
 you the day after to-morrow." 
 
 The appearance of Mr. Russell, who received 
 me very kindly, was scarcely changed from when I 
 parted with him at the Angel, Abergavenny. 
 Marriage with the widow had evidently agreed 
 with him. 
 
 With respect to the immediate business in hand, 
 he had no doubt that his wife could afford me 
 valuable information. She would be there in a 
 few minutes. 
 
 Mrs. Russell was really a very pleasant, graceful 
 person ; and making due allowance for the effect 
 of time and the rose-coloured spectacles tinted by 
 youthful admiration through which he saw her, 
 the husband's enthusiasm did not seem so extrava- 
 gant as, when first witnessed, I thought it to be. 
 
 With respect to the lady who was living with 
 Hr. Marsden, near Abergavenny, Mrs. Russell was 
 strongly of opinion that she was really his #vife, 
 although for some reason or other, she herself had
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 137 
 
 been heard to say she had only been promised mar- 
 riage, but that it had never been solemnized. She 
 (Mrs. Russell) had known Julia Fotheringay — she 
 was bom in Kerry, not Queen's County — when she 
 was one of the most beautiful girls in Dublin, and 
 the least likely person in the world to throw herself 
 away. But she (^Irs. Russell) could adduce the 
 strongest moral proof that Miss Fotheringay was 
 the legal wife of Ernest Marsden, and that she 
 could not have been more than eighteen when they 
 were married — many years, of course, before Mars- 
 den wooed the present Lady Davenant Miss 
 Fotheringay fell HI of an acute disease in Dublin 
 when Marsden was absent, it was said, in England. 
 Her life was despaired of ; and believing herself to 
 be dying, she solemnly declared to Mrs. Russell 
 herself, who had been sedulously attentive during 
 her illness, that she was n:\arried to Ernest Mars- 
 den, and though she had promised to keep the 
 truth concealed from the world till circumstances 
 should justify her, in a prudential sense, in making 
 it known to the world, she held herself absolved, 
 when hfe was passing, of the promise, and should
 
 138 MY FIRST TEIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 disclose the truth, if but for the sake of her rela- 
 tives. 
 
 "She was proceeding with her confession, as it 
 may be called," added Mrs. Russell, "when the 
 doctors entered and interrupted it. I lef| the 
 toom, intending to return immediately, but a 
 message from my own home, stating that one 
 of my daughters, Janette, had been suddenly 
 taken ill, having arrived, I left the house ; and 
 before I again saw Miss Fotheringay, or rather 
 Mrs. Marsden, her disorder had taken a favourable 
 turn. All danger was over ; and with the dread of 
 death had passed away the lady's anxiety to speak 
 the truth in respect of her marriage. In reply to 
 my angry expostulation, she coolly remarked that 
 she must have been either dreaming or delirious 
 if she really had made such a statement, as she 
 was not yet Ernest Marsden's wife. I never saw 
 her to speak with her afterwards. My husband 
 did frequently ; and he was as convinced as myself 
 of the reality of the marriage.'' 
 
 " Is it known if this lady is still alive, and where 
 she may be found ?"
 
 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 139 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I received a letter from Canada not 
 very long since, from an old friend, who knew her 
 as well as I did. ' You will be more grieved thaa 
 surprised/ writes my friend, ' to hear that our old 
 acqiikintance, Julia Fotheringay, is an inmate of 
 the Beaufort Lunatic Asylum, near Quebec, where 
 she passes under the name of Mrs. Lee. I saw, 
 but was not allowed to speak with her, she being 
 then sufferincr under an access of her terrible 
 malady, which is, however, more mopish, melan- 
 choly, in its chai-acter than violent. She did appear 
 to know me. Dr. Douglas, chief physician to the 
 establishment, has strong hope that she will finally 
 recover, her lucid intervals being much more 
 frequent and of longer duration than formerly/ " 
 
 I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Russell for the 
 valuable information — invaluable to Lady Dave- 
 nant I hoped it would prove — and at once hastened 
 away to lay my budget of news before Mr. Ames. 
 He was mightily pleased, and, for the first time, 
 really hoped we should be able to trip up Marsden's 
 heels, and at a moment, too, that he fancied him- 
 self planted firmly on a rock.
 
 140 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 The next mail packet which left the port of 
 London conveyed me to New York, whence I 
 made my way without accident to Quebec. I 
 immediately sought out and had an interview with 
 Captain Lambton, in the citadel ; and in a few 
 minutes we were dashing through Palace Gate in 
 a caleche, on the road to Beaufort, near which 
 village the Lower Canada Lunatic Asylum was 
 situated. Mr. Wakehara, the warder, conducted 
 us to Dr. Douglas, who, after listening with sympa- 
 thetic interest to Captain Lambton, promised that 
 every assistance in his power should be afforded us 
 to defeat the machinations of sucii a villain as 
 Marsden appeared to be. " He/^ said Dr. Douglas, 
 "placed Mrs. Lee here as his sister, and has great 
 influence over her — the influence of terror when 
 actually in her presence ; but I believe, from certain 
 circumstances, that she writhes under the moral 
 thraldom to which she is compelled to submit, and 
 w^ould willingly break her chains. Let me warn you, 
 however, that in his presence she will say or unsay 
 anything at his bidding. The poor lady— a very 
 beautiful woman she must have been— is now quite
 
 Mr FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 141 
 
 sane. Her "brother" has sent notice that he 
 intends removing her, and he may be here for 
 that purpose at any moment. You must act with 
 promptitude and vigour I will conduct you to her." 
 
 The unfortunate lady listened attentively to 
 Captain Lambton and myself; appeared to feel 
 sympathy and compassion for Lady Davenant, and 
 something like abhorrence of Marsden ; but the 
 dominant, master feeling was evidently fear of that 
 person. She would say nothing, not a word 
 whilst he could possibly avenge himself upon her. 
 *' He would kill me," she piteously exclaimed, '• he 
 would kill me ; but if I found myself really in 
 England (where, if I was, he dare not come), I 
 would teU all-alL" 
 
 Finding her immovable in that resolve, we left, 
 to concert measures for carrying her off ; and were 
 dismayed to find that Marsden had, during our 
 interview with his sister, sent a written notice that 
 he should be at the asylum, with a carriage to fetch 
 her away, in three or four hours at the latest. 
 
 That stroke, sudden and unexpected as it was, 
 could be successfully parried. I explained how
 
 142 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 to Captaia Lambton, and handed him over the 
 funds I had been entrusted with to be imme- 
 diately available in such an eventuality. A note 
 was despatched from the citadel, as soon as we 
 reached it, from Captain Lambton, which informed 
 Marsden that the parties in England had finally 
 agreed to his terms, and had sent over the first 
 instalment of the money stipulated for. Mr. 
 Marsden was, therefore, requested to call within an 
 hour at the citadel, accompanied by his confi- 
 dential homme d'affaires, as he (Captain Lambton) 
 was about to start for Montreal, and might be 
 some weeks absent. Meanwhile I was busy with 
 a Quebec magistrate, securing the attendance of 
 two Quebec police ofiScers. 
 
 The papers, drawn up as guardedly as possible, 
 were signed and sealed on both sides. One thousand 
 pounds in Bank of England notes were handed 
 over to Marsden, in exchange for which he gave 
 his receipt. That done, one only ceremony 
 remained to be performed, the signal for which 
 was given by Captain Lambton's whistle.
 
 MY FIRST TEIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 143 
 
 " Your name," said my Canadian assistant, " is, 
 I believe, Marsden — Ernest Marsden ? Very good. 
 Well, I shall take you to jail for robbing this gen- 
 tleman of one thousand pounds, good moneys, by 
 lies — false pretences." 
 
 " By lies — false pretences ! " shouted Marsden. 
 *' What the devil do you mean, Lambton ? Are 
 you mad, that you seek to ruin your own sister — 
 my wife I" 
 
 " Not your wife at all, Mr. Marsden," said I. 
 How the fellow started at the sound of my voice, 
 not having before noticed me. " Never was ! 
 You married Julia Fotheringay years before you 
 went to church with the lady you . speak of ; and 
 your real wife is now at the Beaufort Lunatic Asy- 
 lum, confined under the name of Lee — * your 
 sister,' Lee." 
 
 " Ah, my friend," said the Quebec officer, " it is 
 no use to swear, and kick, and fight ! You must 
 come with us to jail. Ha, ha ! you're caught ! 
 — charming ! Come along ; or must we have 
 soldiers to prick you with bayonets, eh ?"
 
 144 MY FIRST TRIP ACROSS THE ATLANTld 
 
 Believing that his wife had really confessed 
 everjrthing, Marsden, as soon as he could sufficiently 
 control his maddening rage, offered, through his 
 homme d/affaireSy to make a reasonable confession 
 of his guilt, upon condition of not being pro- 
 secuted in Canada, nor dragged off to England to 
 be there tried for bigamy. His terms were ac- 
 cepted ; our success was complete. He and Julia 
 Fotheringay had been married at a country church 
 in Gal way seven years before he led Lucy Lambton 
 to the desecrated altar of God. 
 
 It was well we had not relied too implicitly 
 upon his wife's help. We had not left the Asylum 
 an hour when a carriage sent by Marsden arrived ; 
 in which she was driven, nothing loth, to his 
 lodgings in Quebec, where, it is needless to say, 
 she did not find him. Of course, good care was 
 taken that she should hold no communication with 
 the prisoner till he had settled finally with us.
 
 Uo 
 
 SIR WILLIAM .i^'D LADY DEYEREUX. 
 
 I VERT early acquired a habit of transcribing in 
 durable ink, before I retired to rest, sucb pencil 
 memoranda as I had jotted down during the day, 
 of singular incidents which I had myself observed 
 or been told of. Standing alone, these were with- 
 out apparent significance, but might thereafter 
 prove to be invaluable links in a tangled chain of 
 circumstance. The date, locality, the names of 
 informants or witnesses were strictly recorded. In 
 ninety-nine cases of a. hundred I simply had my 
 trouble for my pains; but the hundredth, as in 
 the case I am about to relate, abundantly compen- 
 sated the lost labour. 
 
 The following sensation paragraph appeared in 
 the columns of the Morning Post, in May, 1837 ; 
 " The fashionable world is in a state of excitement 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 SIK WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX 
 
 relative to the sudden separation of Sir Williara 
 Devereux and his ^ lady, whose marriage was 
 solemnized at St. Jarpes's Churc'h Jess than three 
 weeks ago. The newly^ wedded pair were spenc^g 
 the bridal month at the,*baronet's seat, Westlands, 
 Derbyshire, when the inexplicable event took 
 place. One, and the most constant, rumour is 
 that the baronet has been smitten with lunacy; 
 and this would be a probable conjecture were it 
 not that the lady has returned to her friends. 
 A short time will, no doubt, clear up the mys- 
 tery." 
 
 The writer in the .^^ miscalculated the time 
 which the unravelment of the mystery would con- 
 sume. At least a month passed after the appear- 
 ance of the newspaper paragraphbefore the following 
 note reached Colonel Rowan^Chief Commissioner 
 of Metropolitan Police, into which body the Bow- 
 street Runners had been absorbed : " Sir William 
 Devereux presents his compliments to Colonel 
 Rowan, and will esteem it a signal favour if he 
 could be permitted to avail himself of the services 
 of an intellicrent cind active detective officer. Sir 
 
 ^
 
 BIR WILLIAM AXD LADY DEVEREUX. 147 
 
 William read an account in the papers at the time 
 of the resolute and skilful conduct on the part of 
 an officer, named Clarke, in a case of alleged 
 bigamy. If that person could be spared. Sir 
 William would gladly engage, and amply reward, 
 his services." 
 
 This note was handed to me, with orders to 
 
 j)lace myself at the disposal of the baronet, should 
 
 I nnd that the affair in which I was called to 
 
 . act fell within the legitimate range of a detective's 
 
 duties. 
 
 There was no room, I found, for doubt upon 
 the point. I had frequently seen Sir William 
 Devereux — a vig($rous, handsome man, about, I 
 judged, thirty years of age; and now, when I 
 waited upon him in Belgrav^-i>quare, I found an 
 emaciated invalid, on the high road and at full 
 gallop to consumption. I was fortunate by my 
 replies to his first testing questions, as he considered 
 them, to confirm the favourable opinion he had 
 formed from newspaper reports of my detective 
 capabilities, and he at once gave me his entire 
 confidence. A precious tangled, knotty yarn it 
 
 10—3
 
 148 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 was which he spun out and expected me to 
 unravel ! 
 
 Sir William had succeeded to the baronetcy and 
 entailed estates only about a twelvemonth pre- 
 viously, at the death of his father, and as a conse- 
 quence of the decease, not very long before^ of his 
 elder brother. He had, however, been pretty well 
 off for a younger son, but nothing like sufficiently 
 so to win the consent of Earl Yerigrand to his 
 union with the Lady Yiolet, youngest and loveliest 
 of the noble lord's three lovely daughters, whose 
 portraits have appeared in every Book of Beauty 
 published. Mr. William Devereux's possible suc- 
 cession to the baronetcy and the estates was too 
 problematical, though the elder brother was of a 
 weakly constitution, to permit such an idea to be 
 entertained for a moment, though the Lady Violet 
 herself was favourably inclined, and Mr. William 
 Devereux loved her with passionate devotion. The 
 noble father's coolly-contemptuous refusal of his 
 beautiful daughter's hand — as I understood it to 
 have been — drove the disappointed suitor dis- 
 tracted for a time ; during which access of mania,
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 149 
 
 he must needs marry, just to show how little he 
 cared after all — the first sharp pang over — for the 
 passing disappointment. Lavinia Meriton — a 
 second or third cousin of the Lady Violet's — and 
 for some reason or other, not very clearly explained 
 to me, at bitter feud with the Yerigrand family — ' 
 Lavinia Meriton was an orphan — poor, proud, very 
 handsome, swayed by strong passions, and bitterly 
 ambitious. She lived with an aunt — a lady of 
 moderate means; and had a brother, two 
 or three years older than herself, who had gone 
 out to India at a very early age, and had risen to 
 the grade of captain in the Honourable Company's 
 Ser\'ice some time before Lavinia Meriton became 
 Mrs. William Devereux. 
 
 The marriage was an unhappy one. The hus 
 band and wife had no real regard for each other \ 
 and a formal se^)aration was under discussion 
 when, by the death of the elder brother, William 
 Devereux became presumptive heir to the 
 baronetcy and entailed estates. A final sepa- 
 ration was then suddenly brought about ; not by 
 the agency of la^vyers, but by the fiat of Fate.
 
 ] 50 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 Captain Meriton returned to England upon short 
 leave of absence ; and of course visited his 
 sister and her husband, by whom he was cour- 
 teously received. He was a tall, handsome man; 
 bronzed by Indian suns, and a soldier of service — 
 as a deep, though not disfiguring, sword- scar 
 across his forehead testified. It was the yachting 
 season; and Mr. Devereux, who was fond of 
 aquatics, was staying at the Royal Hotel, Ryde,. 
 Isle of Wight, with his wife. It was natural that 
 
 the brother and sister should be much together 
 
 often exclusively so — considering that, the terms of 
 the proposed separation were, as before statedj 
 under discussion. It appeared strange, to those 
 who knew how fiercely ambitious was the wife, 
 that the brilliant future opened up by the elder 
 son's death did not in the least abate her anxiety 
 to forthwith carry out the arrangement. She 
 seldom condescended to mention the baronetcy ; 
 never directly, that he remembered, to her 
 husband. 
 
 She was probably not so reserved upon the sub- 
 ject to her brother or to Mademoiselle Saint Aubin,
 
 SIR WILLIA3I AND LADY DEVEREUX. 151 
 
 her French attendant, and, since the marriage, 
 confidential companion and friend. 
 
 Cajotain Meriton and. Mrs. Devereux were fre- 
 quently out boating together ; no other person with 
 them. One fine bub sultry afternoon, the intense 
 heat of which was forebodeful of an electric storm, 
 the brother and sister proceeded in a light skiff 
 upon the Southampton Water. There were several 
 other boats in company at starting, but these re- 
 turned to Cowes, as the sky became overcast and 
 the wind rose. Not the slight skiff — managed, 
 however, with skill by Captain Meriton. When 
 near Calshot Castle — off which several yachts (that 
 of Mr. Fleming, Member for South Hants, one of 
 them) were anchored — Captain Meriton beached 
 his boat, and with his companion went on shore ; 
 no doubt, it was supposed, to seek temporary 
 shelter from a sharp scud of rain which came down 
 at the time. That passed away, they were seen 
 to re-embark — though it was blowing in violent, 
 fitful gusts, and the skiff carried considerably too 
 much canvas. Darkness, too, had suddenly fallen — 
 darkness seamed, lit up, by vivid flashes of lightning.
 
 152 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 by which Captain Meriton's boat was seen to cap- 
 size when not more than four or five hundred yards 
 from the shore. She turned completely bottom 
 upwards ; and after a few moments of painful sus- 
 pense, and whilst yet Mrs. Devereux's scream of 
 mortal agony sounded in the ears of the spectators, 
 Captain Meriton was observed to rise, and with 
 much effort clamber up and cling on to the boat's 
 bottom. Mrs. Devereux sank at once. Captain 
 Meriton was saved by the yacht boats, which had 
 immediately hastened to the rescue ; but Mrs. 
 Devereux was not seen again, nor was the body 
 ever found. 
 
 The storm, which lasted several hours, was a vio- 
 lent one, and the corpse had no doubt been whirled 
 by the raging waves out into the English Channel, 
 through the Needles Passage. Captain Meriton 
 was much affected by his sister's shocking, un- 
 timely death ; and well he might be, it having been 
 caused by his own almost criminal rashness. He 
 returned to India much earlier than he had 
 intended. 
 
 Sixteen months after the death of his first wife.
 
 SIR WILLIAM ASD LADY DEVEREUX. 153 
 
 Sir William Devereux, ^vith the full consent of 
 Earl Yerigrand, married the Lady Yiolet. The 
 wedding was a splendid one, and, as the Morning 
 Post stated, ''the happy pair left immediately 
 for the baronet's seat, Westlands, Derbyshire." 
 There, after a decorous interval had passed, they 
 were joined by all or nearly all the bride's family, 
 with other distinguished friends of both sexes. A 
 very brilliant company, no doubt ; Sir Wiiham 
 himself the gayest of the gay. 
 
 Suddenly thunder fell, and all was confusion, 
 terror, dismay. The family and guests were assem- 
 bled or assembling in the drawing-room, previous 
 to dinner, when Sir William, white as stone, his 
 hair dishevelled, his eyes a-blaze, and clutching a 
 letter, it seemed, in his right hand, staggered into 
 the room. Meeting the alarmed gaze of his beau- 
 tiful wife, he uttered a loud cry of anguish, horror, 
 and fell prone on the floor. 
 
 The letter, v.hich had no date or signature, con- 
 tained these lines : — 
 
 " Sir WiLLiAii Devereux, — Lavinia, Lady 
 Devereux, was not drowned. She escaped as by
 
 154 Sm WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 miracle, and is at this moment alive and well. 
 She does not, however, wish to intrude her unwel- 
 come presence amongst the gay bridal party as- 
 sembled at Westlands, nor expose her amiable, 
 triumphant cousin, the Lady Violet, to public 
 disgrace and shame. You, Sir William, may, if 
 you will, keep the fact of Lady Devereux's existence 
 a secret from the Lady Violet — from the world — 
 which you and she know to be in such cases so 
 cruelly Tnoqueur — pitiless. But secresy, as you 
 will easily understand, will be costly — very costly. 
 What of that ? Tens of thousands are but as dust 
 in the balaDce, weighed against the honour, the 
 peace of the noble Verigrands — the honour, peace 
 of mind, perhaps the life, of a young, beautiful, 
 beloved bride. The person charged to deliver 
 this letter will enter into negotiations upon 
 equitable terms. Do not forget that one rash 
 word could not be recalled — the consequence be 
 irretrievable.^'' 
 
 " That infamous paper, scrawled in a character 
 unknown to me," said Sir William, " was placed in 
 my hand by a Mademoiselle Saint Aubin, lady's-
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 155 
 
 maid to my first wife, as I was hastening in from 
 the park to dress for dinner. I had no sooner 
 glanced at it, than, turning to the woman — not in 
 alarm, not in the least — ^in anger, contempt, rage, 
 I asked if she knew the consequences to herself of 
 attempting to obtain money by such barefaced 
 lying, so audacious a fabrication. *You do not 
 believe,' said the brazen French devil ; ' ah, well ! 
 I must show you, then. Come.' She led the way, 
 at a smart pace, out of the park to a small adjoin- 
 ing coppice, on the other side of which is a turn- 
 pike-road. I followed mechanically. It was getting 
 quite dusk, I must tell you. She entered the 
 coppice, with me close at her heels ; for I fancied 
 she meant to run ojBf, and I was resolved that she 
 should not. On the roadside of the coppice we 
 came suddenly upon a -light phaeton, in which was 
 seated a lady, thickly veiled. ' Sir William is incre- 
 dulous, my lady,' said the woman, in French. * It is 
 imperative, therefore, that he should see his wife/. 
 The person in the carriage lifted the veil, and - 
 imless I was mocked by some illusion, some trick, 
 — I have read of such things — that person was
 
 156 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEEEUX. 
 
 Lavinia, my first wife. I was spell-bound, rooted 
 to the earth with astonishinentj dismay ; and be- 
 fore I could move a step, utter a word, the French- 
 woman had sprung into the phaeton, snatched the 
 reins from the other, and driven off at the swiftest 
 pace of a fleet, powerful horse. It was impossible 
 to overtake them, and they have not been heard 
 of since." 
 
 " Not heard of since ! Strange ! Inquiries after 
 them have of course been made?" 
 
 " Yes ; eager, incessant inquiries ; wholly with- 
 out result. It is the sword of Damocles, sus- 
 pended over my head. It will kill my wife, my 
 innocent, beautiful wife. It has killed her morally. 
 . . '." exclaimed the baronet, with 
 
 groaning passion, and pacing the apartment to 
 and fro, with feeble steps. " That I should have 
 blighted that fair, young, joyous life ! Destroyed 
 one, to save whom I would have cheerfully accepted 
 death for myself !" 
 
 " Do not be too ready, Sir William, to accept a 
 sinister solution of this strange mystery. I, too, 
 have heard of cleverly-managed illusions of the
 
 SIK WILLIAM! AXD LADY DEVEEEUX. 157 
 
 kind. It was dusk, you say ; and possibly a 
 chance likeness may have suggested the trick, 
 and " 
 
 " No, no ! Clarke," interrupted the greatly- 
 shaken baronet. " I have tried to hug that hope ; 
 vainly tried. If I stand here, I saw her : saw my 
 former wife, in the body, with my own bodily eyes. 
 There was — could be — no illusion, spectral or 
 otherwise." 
 
 " I have no faith in spectres, believe me. Yet 
 what peg of probability is there to hang a doubt of 
 your first lady's death upon ? In the alleged case 
 of bigamy you read of in the newspapers, there 
 was a palpable motive for the pretence of having 
 been drowned : but in this instance, why should 
 Mrs. Devereux wish it to be believed that she had 
 so perished ? What, in any conceivable eventuality, 
 could she gain by it? Then, again. Captain 
 Meriton, her brother, nxiLst have either been jpar- 
 ticeps cHminis " 
 
 " There ! there again I" interrupted the baronet. 
 " I have not told you that the man who accom- 
 panied Mrs. Devereux was not her brother, — not
 
 158 BIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEYEREITX. 
 
 .^Captain Meriton. That gentleman arrived from 
 
 . India only last week. I have seen him. He has 
 not been in England before, since he left it a mere 
 
 •boy/' 
 
 " Not Mrs. Devereux's brother ! Not Captain 
 Meriton ! Her paramour, you evidently sus- 
 pect /' 
 
 *' I do ! I do ! O, she was, is a woman who 
 would thrust aside, or overleap an}^ obstacle that 
 opposed the gratification of her passions, whether 
 of love or hate." 
 
 " Yes ; but excuse me. Sir William, the very 
 fact that you and your lady were about to be 
 legally separated ; that it was agreed she should 
 have a splendid income as soon as you succeeded 
 to the baronetcy, — a handsome one meanwhile, — 
 cuts away the ground under that supposition. It 
 has nothing whatever to support it. The lady and 
 her supposed paramour would have everything to 
 lose — nothing whatever to gain — by getting up a 
 
 . false report of Mrs. Devereux's death." 
 
 " True ! trae ! The mystery is inscrutable. 
 Nothing can, I see, be done. Sending for you was
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 159 
 
 but as the futile snatching of the drowning man at 
 a straw/' 
 
 " I do not abandon hope so easily. The convic- 
 tion grows upon me, that a chance likeness dis- 
 covered by the Frenchwoman must have suggested 
 the attempt to impose upon and rob you. It failed, 
 and the accomplices have not been seen or heard 
 of since. Yet, why should she have first showed 
 you the pretended Mrs. Devereux, and immediately 
 scampered off ? That certainly gives one pause." 
 
 " The final blow is suspended only. The vile 
 woman revels in the slow torture she inflicts." 
 
 " She hated with a bitter hate, I understood you 
 to say, the Lady Violet ?" 
 
 " Yes ; with bitter, rancorous hate. She hated 
 me also ; but I might have given some provocation. 
 That angel none ! none !" 
 
 " Well, Sir William Devereux," said I, rising to 
 take leave. " I am now in possession of all particu- 
 lars, so far as they are known to you. I will sleep 
 upon the matter, and to-morrow give you my 
 candid opinion as to whether any good result may 
 be hoped for through mj exertions. One moment,
 
 160 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 Sir William. There is one important item which 
 must be jotted down in my notes. Do you know 
 if the French lady's-maid, Mademoiselle Saint 
 Aubin, has any acquaintances in London ?" 
 *' I do not know. Some of the servants may." 
 " Possibly ; but we must not inquire too hastily 
 of them. They themselves may be the woman's 
 friendly acquaintances. Do you happen to be 
 aware of where in France the woman was bbrn, or 
 where she has relatives ?" 
 
 " Yes; Amiens, or the immediate neighbourhood, 
 I am pretty sure." 
 
 " The pretended brother was an Englishman ?" 
 " I think so, decidedly. O yes ; his speech was 
 that of an educated English gentleman." 
 
 I then went away ; meditated quietly at home 
 all I heard, and could come to no other conclusion 
 than that an impudent, barefaced imposition upon 
 Sir William Devereux's credulity had been at- 
 tempted, and failed. Failed, that is, of what I 
 supposed could only be its real purpose — that of 
 extorting money. It had not failed in destroying 
 the happiness, unless proof could be obtained of
 
 SIR WnjJAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 161 
 the attempted imposture, of Sir William and Lady 
 Devereux. To obtain that proof would, I feared^ 
 be very difficult. Would my diary of remarkable 
 incidents throw any light upon the subject? The 
 drowning had taken place on the 8th of August, 
 1835. I would turn to the entries (if any there 
 were) referring to that date, or near it. By Jove I 
 Here is a flash of light ! — " Being at Mr. Nightin- 
 gale's house, in the New Forest, on the ]9th of 
 September, 1835, on special business, heard of a 
 curious circumstance. John Coombes, one of the 
 under-gardeners, an intelligent lad, being in the 
 forest, not very far from Calshot Castle, on the 
 8th of August, late in the afternoon, and whea 
 it was tempestuous dark, he himself having got 
 under shelter of trees out of the rain, saw a lady 
 creeping slily along through the forest, looking 
 every way to see if she was followed. That, at 
 least, was the young man's impression. Her clothes 
 were so heavy with wet (she had a cap but na 
 bonnet) that they clung to her body. Coombes* 
 curiosity being roused, he stealthily followed the lady 
 till she came to an out-of-the-way spot, where she 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 162 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 stopped, looked for a light spade concealed under 
 a bush, took it up, and began digging a hole in the 
 ground. As soon as it was large enough for her 
 purpose, she began stripping off her clothes. The 
 lad's modesty was, however, in no danger of being 
 shocked, as beneath the female habiliments were a 
 Guernsey close-fitting flannel frock and flannel 
 leggings, such as seamen wear. First burying the 
 •woman's clothing, and covering the spot over with 
 bushes, the person next pulled out from the place 
 where the spade had been concealed, a bundle, 
 containing a round blue jacket, canvas trousers, and 
 tarpaulin hat; arrayed in which, he stood confessed 
 a sinewy young man, and a sailor. He then went 
 off, taking the spade with him. When he had 
 been some time gone, Coombes raked out the 
 clothes, and took them home. They consisted of a 
 blue silk dress, a silk shawl of a peculiar pattern, 
 and a lace cap; the whole saturated with sea^ water. 
 The Nightingale family being at the time on a visit 
 in the north of England, no stir was made in the 
 matter. The gardeners concluded that some lark 
 had been forward ; the clothes were sold to a tra-
 
 Sm WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEBEUX. 163 
 
 veiling pedlar, the money was spent in drink; 
 and by the merest chance the matter was men- 
 tioned in my presence. I questioned Coombes 
 pretty sharply. He did not know, he said, even by 
 sight, the sailor who secreted the clothes, and 
 should not recognise him« This I suspected to be 
 a falsehood. But, it not being likely that anything 
 more would be elicited, I let the subject drop ; and 
 left the house shortly afterwards, on my way back 
 to London." 
 
 Thus far my diary. Now, if I had heard or 
 read of Mrs. Devereux having been drowned near 
 that spot, and on the day named, the 8th of 
 August, and the coincidence of place and date had 
 occurred to my mind, I should certainly not have 
 let the matter drop. It is likely, however, that I 
 had Tiot read of the accident, or that if I had, it 
 had passed from my memory. 
 
 This was certainly striking a very promising 
 trail ; which, however, promised only to confirm Sir 
 William Devereux's worst fears : that it was some 
 diabolical device, for which no adequate motive 
 could be assigned except utter insanity of hate for 
 11—2
 
 164 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 the Lady Violet — who, Mrs. Devereux might fairly 
 conclude, would marry Sir William were she 
 supposed to be dead. 
 
 Still it was my duty to state to Sir William Deve- 
 reux what I had found by the entry in my diary to 
 have taken place, and take his final instructions as 
 to whether I should follow up the investigation. 
 He was greatly agitated by this fresh proof, as it 
 seemed to be, that his former wife was alive ; but 
 still determined to discover the whole truth, if pos- 
 sible, and bring the conspirators to justice, if it 
 could be done. 
 
 It was not many hours before I was with John 
 Coombes, and obtained an admission from him that 
 he did know the young sailor by sight (only 
 hy sight) who buried the clothes ; that he was a 
 Portsmouth man, and might be found almost any 
 day on Common Hard. He (Coombes) had seen 
 him there about a fortnight after the clothes 
 were sold — and he (Coombes) should not have 
 known where to look for him before — in 
 company with a swarthy, well-dressed looking 
 man.
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 165 
 
 " Did you notice a scar on his forehead ? "" 
 
 No, he did not ; having only glimpsed at him 
 for a moment. 
 
 At all events, Coombes could go with me to the 
 Common Hard. Once having found the sailor, I 
 could question him myself. 
 
 " That's he ! — that's he ! " exclaimed Coombes ; 
 '* the chap in a striped shirt, talking to the land- 
 lord of the Greyhound. They're going away 
 together." 
 
 " All right ; and you may go away for the present 
 I shall know where to find you." 
 
 The chap in a striped shirt was a lithe young 
 sailor, of about the medium height, strolling with 
 its landlord (Skinner) towards the Greyhound, a 
 low public-house on the Hard. I followed close 
 after them, and overheard the landlord address his 
 companion as "Charley" and "Trump." Was 
 Trump a real surname or a sobriquet indica- 
 tive of game qualities? Desirous of ascertaining 
 before opening my game, I harked back for 
 a few minutes. Coombes had told me the 
 young fellow was a waterman, and, addressing
 
 166 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEHEUX. 
 
 a weather-beaten tar lounging about the Hard, 
 I said, " Pray, which is Charles Trump's boat ? " 
 
 " Charley Trump's boat," said the ancient 
 mariner ; " that's one on 'em," pointing to a gaily 
 painted wherry. " He's got two now." 
 
 " Has he, though ? Then he must have got on 
 wonderful since I first knew him." 
 
 " I should think he have, mister. Fellows of 
 his sort often do, though not always for a loug 
 spell. If you want Charley Trump," added the old 
 man, "you are pretty sure to find him at the 
 Greyhound ; he mostly lives there since he's been 
 in luck." 
 
 Trump was sitting alone in a small parlour, with 
 a pot of beer before him. First taking his moral 
 dimensions with as much accuracy as my visional 
 callipers were capable of, I said, with purposed 
 suddenness, "Charles Trump, you are wanted. I 
 am a London police oflficer." 
 
 " Eh ! what the devil ! " cried he, starting up. 
 "A London police officer ! Well, what then ? " 
 
 " You will know * what then presently. But 
 don't you go into fits before your time. How about
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEEEUX. 167 
 
 Mrs. Devereux, the lady whose clothes you buried 
 in the New Forest, not very far from Calshot, on 
 the 8th of August last year. Ah ! that licks you, 
 my lad I I have been some time running you to 
 earth, but you are safely bagged at last." 
 
 "*Go to the devil with your ' bagged ! ' What 
 have I done ?" 
 
 " You have committed a robbery, that is certain 
 — possibly murder. If I were to offer an opinion, 
 I should say the probability is that you did commit 
 murder as well as robbery. You need not, how- 
 ever, confess to me that the unfortunate lady was 
 flung alive upon the beach by the waves. Now, 
 then, leave off staring as if you had seen Mrs. 
 Devereux's ghost ; settle for your beer and come 
 along with me. Yes, Charley Trump, willingly or 
 unwillingly, you must come along with me. If 
 you are as sensible a chap as one look in that tell- 
 tale face — dingy as it is — shows you are cunning, 
 it may not go so hard with you. Come." 
 
 We proceeded to a house in the not-far-off 
 vicinity, where we could talk without interruption 
 or risk of being overheard.
 
 168 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 " Now, then, Mr. Police-officer, what is it you 
 want to know ? " said Trump, in a sullenly-savage 
 tone, and endeavouring to rally his shaken 
 courage. 
 
 " All you know about the lady we were speak- 
 ing of." 
 
 " Which is precious little. I wish it was less." 
 
 " A proper wish, but entertained too late. The 
 immediate question is, will you make a clean breast 
 of it, on the chance — only the chance, mind — that, 
 if by doing so you further the ends of justice, your 
 own share in the business, if it be not a very heinous 
 one, will be mercifully dealt with. Remember, 
 however, that I make no promise ; have, indeed, 
 no power to do so.'' 
 
 " And if I choose to keep my tongue between 
 my teeth — how then ? " 
 
 " Simply that it will be my duty to immediately 
 take you before a magistrate, and charge you with 
 the wilful murder of Mrs. Devereux, whose clothes 
 you unquestionably stole." 
 
 " Wilful murder of Mrs. Devereux !" stammered 
 the sailor, trembling in every limb. That aiTOW,
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 169 
 
 aimed at a venture, went very near, if it did not 
 actually hit, a vital part. " "Wilful murder of Mrs. 
 Devereux ! That's all fudge. The lady is alive, and 
 I've no doubt quite well, at this very moment." 
 
 *• That may be, Mr. Trump ; but it will require 
 much better proof than your bare word. Only 
 the bringing forward of the lady aUve and well 
 would suffice. Let me clearly describe your posi- 
 tion. It can be proved that you were in pos- 
 session of the missing lady's clothes very shortly 
 after she was supposed to be drowned. What 
 money she had about her person may never be 
 known — except, perhaps, from your own confes- 
 sion to the jail chaplain. Pray don't interrupt 
 The possession of, or concealment of, the clothes is 
 an ugly fact — a very ugly fact. Mrs. Devereux's 
 French maid will prove that about noon on the 
 8th of August her mistress left the Royal Hot^l, 
 Ryde, in the blue silk dress and the Indian 
 pattern shawl " 
 
 "What, what !" exclaimed Trump, fierce as fire; 
 "do you mean that the Frenchwoman has turned 
 round upon me ? But no, no ; it can't be possible."
 
 170 SIE WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEEETJX. 
 
 "That's about the size of it, Trump, whether 
 it be possible or not. But time's precious. Will 
 you * peach/ taking your chance, or go before a 
 magistrate at once ? I give you just ten minutes 
 to make np your mind." 
 
 " I suppose," said Trump, after very brief silence, 
 " I suppose it will be better to tell you all I know. 
 This is it. Lieutenant Jameson was once second 
 lieutenant on a gun-brig in which I served as 
 cabin boy and his servant. He fell in with me on 
 the Hard here last year, in the month of July. He 
 was passing under the name of Meriton — being, he 
 said, out of sight on account of debt. He was also 
 after an old sweetheart of his, whose brute of a 
 husband — a Mr. Devereux — used her shameful, 
 kept her in constant fear of her life. The plan 
 settled upon was to pretend she was drowned. 
 Then they would be sure to get clear off, as no 
 pursuit would be attempted. I waited and waited 
 on the shores of the Solent and Southampton 
 Water days and days/' glibly went on Trump, his 
 long-conned lesson surging clearly up in his 
 memory, " and at last a lucky chance favoured
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREXJX. 171 
 
 the scheme. On the 8th of August Captain 
 Meriton, as he called himself, ran his boat on 
 shore, near Calshot Castle. Out stepped Mrs. 
 Devereux ; and as soon as she reached cover, 
 stripped off her clothes, and dressed herself, with 
 things brought in the boat, as a country wench, 
 and went off in the direction of Hythe. I put on 
 the lady's fine things — there was a bonnet with 
 feathers and a thick veil, but they were lost — went 
 into the boat, which Meriton immediately shoved off 
 and capsized ; that was easy enough done, not too 
 far from the shore. I could swim like a duck. 
 Diving at once, I easily contrived to reach a 
 concealing indentation of the shore, without 
 showing more than a portion of my head above 
 the waves. The bonnet, of course, I had cast 
 off. That," concluded Trump, " is about the sum 
 total of it, as far as I am concerned ; and I 
 don't see that I have done anything particularly 
 dreadful.^' 
 
 "Don't you? I do. You have learned your 
 story well by heart. * Concealing indentation of 
 the shore !' "Where did you pick up such fine
 
 172 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 liDgo as that? Upon Common Hard? There, 
 it's of no use trying to gammon me ! Captain 
 Meriton cooked that cock-and-bull story, and 
 crammed you with it! Where is he to be 
 found r 
 
 " I know no more than you ; perhaps not quite 
 so much." 
 
 "You have papers about you. The end 
 of a black pocket-book is sticking out of your 
 side-pocket. I must examine the contents. Must 
 I summon assistance ? It is within call !" And 
 I placed a whistle to my lips. 
 
 "Take it/' said Trump, throwing the pocket- 
 book savagely down upon the table. "There's 
 nothing there about Mrs. Devereux and Mr. 
 Meriton." 
 
 . " We shall see. Please to move away from the 
 door, whilst I look over the papers. You would be 
 recaptured in three minutes, or less, did you at- 
 tempt to bolt ; but I like to do business in a quiet 
 way." 
 
 " Well," he growled out between his teeth, as he 
 moved up towards the fireplace, " this is devilish
 
 SIR WILUAil AND LADY DEVEREUX 173 
 
 pretty treatment — this is — for just helping a gentle- 
 man to run away with a lady — she being willing ; 
 and the clothes given me ! What will they 
 make out to be robbery and murder next, I 
 wonder ?" 
 
 *' Here is your pocket-book," said I. " I retain 
 only this scrap of paper." The scrap was part of 
 an old letter, addressed to Mrs, Devereux, Ryde, 
 Isle of Wight; the post-mark was Bermondsey; 
 the post-date, July 24; of the preceding year; 
 and in a comer were the initials C. D. The 
 "contents" part of the letter were gone; but in 
 the inside of the mutilated cover was written, in a 
 different hand from the address, "Lieutenant 
 Jameson, care of Madame Saint Aubin, Rue St. 
 Jacques, Amiens." 
 
 " Damnation !" burst involuntarily from Trump. 
 
 "I forgot " He paused, grinding his teeth 
 
 together, to keep in the self-betraying words, 
 
 " You forgot this scrap of paper was in 
 your pocket-book ! Where did you get it ?" 
 
 ." Found it in the lady's purse," was the sullen 
 reply, after the question had been three or four
 
 174? SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX 
 
 times repeated, "along with her money, which I 
 was allowed to keep." 
 
 " Two fresh lies in a breath ! But what are they 
 amongst so many ? Well, now I have the address, 
 I don't see that I shall for the present want you 
 any longer. I must see you to-morrow though. 
 We will start for France together." 
 
 I then left. Trump must have seen me pass the 
 window, as if I was going to Common Hard. 
 Instead of that, I was on my way to the post-office. 
 Exhibiting the warrant with which I was armed 
 to the postmaster, I directed him to detain any 
 letter addressed to " Lieutenant Jameson, care of 
 Madame Saint Aubin, Rue St. Jacques, Amiens." 
 *' Jameson was an Englishman," I explained, 
 " charged with capital felony ; and the sailor who, 
 it was believed, would write and post the letter 
 was in the same predicament, and virtually in 
 custody — he being closely watched by two officers 
 of the Portsmouth police." The postmaster, as he 
 was in duty bound, promised compliance, and I 
 left. 
 
 It was pretty certain that Trump would seize the
 
 SIR WILLLA3I AND LADY DEVEREUX. 175 
 
 first opportunity of writing to his patron and 
 accomplice, warning him that active energies 
 were on foot, and that, by an unlucky oversight, 
 his address in France was known. Such a letter 
 would, in all probability, lead to important dis- 
 closures. 
 
 I was not mistaken. The letter, which was 
 fairly written and correctly spelled, Trump himself 
 posted in less than half-an-hour after I left him. It 
 ran thus: "'Ware hawks, lieutenant The in- 
 fernal London pohce are giving chase in your 
 wake, and that of others. Me they have taken 
 into custody, and let go again for a while. It 
 has set my head spinning like a top. They 
 talk something about robbery arul murder ; but 
 that is aU nonsense, of course. Unfortunately, the 
 police have got your .address, I didn't teU the 
 unboiled lobster that, though born in England, 
 your mother was a Frenchwoman — a Saint Aubin. 
 I shall be staunch, depend upon it, to the last. 
 Dumb and gritty as stone. C. T." 
 
 The same evening Charles Trump was locked 
 up, charged with steahng from the person several
 
 176 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 articles of dress, the property of Sir William 
 Devereux, Baronet. The next morning he was 
 remanded, at my instance, by the magistrate, 
 for a fortnight; and I, without loss of time, 
 proceeded to make inquiries at the Royal Hotel, 
 Ryde. 
 
 There was a new landlord and landlady; 
 but several of the servants remembered Mr. (now 
 Sir William) Devereux, his lady, and Captain 
 Meriton (Mrs. Devereux's brother) very well. 
 One fact, not mentioned by Sir William when 
 instructing me, came up : — Mrs. Devereux and 
 her brother left Ryde, and were absent from 
 the Wight more than a week; returning to the 
 hotel only about four days, or five, previous to 
 the catastrophe. After her return, Mrs. Devereux 
 complained of indisposition — at least, her French 
 attendant did for her — and kept close to her 
 bedroom, waited upon only by the lady's-maid, 
 and seen occasionally by Captain Meriton. She 
 had no medical advice ; and the day [previous 
 to the accident, Mademoiselle Saint Aubin re- 
 ported her to be much better — quite recovered,
 
 SIB WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 177 
 in fact Her husband, I found, was but rarely 
 at the Ryde hotel — his time being chiefly spent at 
 Cowes. At about noon, on the day of the accident 
 a close fly was ordered up to the door ; in which 
 Mrs. Devereux, who was very strikingly dressed 
 and wore a thick veil, drove off with Captain 
 Meriton. This was about all I could hear in the 
 house ; but when leaving it, '* Boots " said, in a 
 sort of confidential "aside," that he had a few- 
 words to say about the business I was upon. 
 "Thi^ is it, sir: — Missus, you see, don't like to 
 have any talk about the ladies and gents that 
 come here, which may get into the papers ; so 
 this is between ourselves. But I'm not quite sure 
 as it was Madame Devereux that went out that 
 day in the fly with Captain Meriton — springing 
 into it, too, like a four-year-old, and she ill as 
 was said. She — if it were she — must have had a 
 curious fancy of wearing sailor's underclothes. He 
 dress caught in the fly- step, you see, and hitched up 
 the gown ; I said nothing — of course not — not even 
 that I thought, swift as she hurried out, that she 
 had grown all at once two or three inches taller." 
 VOL. L 12
 
 178 SIR WILLIAil AND LADY DEVEEEUX 
 
 I thanked the mao, slipped a half-crovm into 
 his hand, and bade him keep dark with everybody 
 but me. 
 
 The mystery was thickening, deepening. I 
 could not at all see my way through it. One 
 thing certainly seemed, through all the imbroglio, 
 to be getting perfectly clear — that Madame 
 Devereux had not been drowned ; was, as Trump 
 asserted, alive and well at that moment. Yet,. 
 if that were so, why did the sailor tremble and 
 turn pale when I threatened to charge him with 
 the wilful murder of the missing lady? Then, 
 again, the words in the intercepted letter to 
 Lieutenant Jameson : " They talk of robbery and 
 murder ; hut that is all nonsense, of courseJ^ 
 The last nine words were thickly underlined — 
 as if to give emphatic utterance to the writers 
 apprehension that in that direction lay the real 
 peril. Well, patience, perseverance might solve 
 as great a mystery. 
 
 Before leaving Portsmouth, I called upon the 
 governor of the prison where Trump was caged, 
 and learned, to my great chagrin, that a letter
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 17^ 
 
 written by the prisoner to Lieutenant Jameson, 
 and submitted, according to the usual routine, to 
 the governor, had been posted the previous day. 
 It certainly, to persons unacquainted with the cir- 
 cumstances, would have seemed an innocent epistle 
 enough, one even which it was the duty of the 
 authorities to forward without delay. I read the 
 ofl&cial copy : — 
 
 *•' To Lieutenant Jameson, at Madame St. Aubin's, 
 Rue de Derriere, Amiens, France. 
 
 "Respected Sir, — One who served with you 
 several years in the Alacrity gun-brig, and 
 whom, in consideration of some small service ren- 
 dered to you on the West India station, you pro- 
 mised to befriend if he should ever require your 
 aid, has fallen into trouble. It is endeavoured to 
 make it appear that I and a Captain Meriton are 
 • implicated in the disappearance of a Mrs. Deve- 
 reux. I am as innocent as the babe unborn ; but 
 the London police are storming heaven and earth, 
 it seems to me, to arrest everybody that ever 
 knew the lady, especially those who visited her at 
 
 12—2
 
 180 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 about the time she was drowned, of all of whom the 
 officers who arrested me boasted they had the 
 addresses — some residing abroad. I do not quite 
 understand it, sir ; but I am told that if I cannot 
 employ a lawyer, I shall be kept in prison God 
 knows how long before the truth comes out Sir, 
 it happens just now that I am very short of money, 
 and have no dependence but upon your well- 
 known generosity. 
 
 " If, sir, upon receipt of this you could leave 
 Amiens, so as to be certain of being here on the 
 first day of hearing, all would be right, as you 
 could prove, if I remember rightly, that on the 
 8th of August last year I was in attendance 
 upon you at Torbay. But this perhaps is asking 
 too great a favour. I will only add, that what 
 is done, to be worth anything, must he done 
 
 quicJdy. 
 
 " Your grateful servant, 
 
 "Charles Trump,'* 
 
 " To whom please to direct under cover to — 
 
 , Esq., Governor of Portsmouth JaiL'' 
 
 What an infernal baulk ! The clever rascal
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 181 
 
 knew through the tattling folly of one of the Ports- 
 mouth oflScers that his first letter to Lieutenant 
 Jameson had been intercepted ; and this second 
 one was the artful dodger's device for warning his 
 accomplice to " 'ware hawks," through the agency, 
 one may say, of the prison authorities themselves. 
 
 The letter was skilfully penned, the underscoring 
 as I have given it, and Lieutenant Jameson would 
 perfectly understand that it would be wise to make 
 himself scarce before "the London police" — there 
 being a treaty of extradition not long before nego- 
 tiated — pounced upon him at Amiens. And that 
 letter would reach Amiens, be delivered twenty- 
 four hours at least before I could possibly be there. 
 Confound it ! 
 
 Regrets are always useless ; and I, delayed only 
 by the necessity of proper credentials, started for 
 Amiens. 
 
 It was easy to find Madame Saint Aubin ; easier 
 to perceive that she expected and was serenely 
 prepared for my visit. 
 
 " Oh, yes, monsieur ! My daughter Julie saw 
 you speaking this morning to M. le Normand, the
 
 ]82 SIR WILLIAIkl AND LADY DEVEREUX, 
 
 commissary of police, a cousin of oars. You wish 
 to speak with my daughter. Nothing more rea- 
 sonable. Julie, 'ilia fillej' continued the lady, 
 really a very intelhgent, comely dame, with enor- 
 mous plaques of gold hung, a la Normand, from 
 her ears ; " Juhe, ma filler the Monsieur Anglais 
 Clarke, representative of Sieur Villiyara Deve- 
 reux — (Devereux being a French name was de- 
 cently pronounced) — wishes to see you." 
 
 I spoke French pretty well, understood it better. 
 
 Mademoiselle Julie Saint Aubin presented her- 
 self with the easy assurance, the perfect a plomh 
 of all Frenchwomen that I have ever seen, above 
 the verj^ lowest class. 
 
 After a few quickly-got-over common-place cour- 
 tesies, I said — 
 
 "Mademoiselle Saint Aubin, I have come to 
 Amiens to make inquiries concerning Madame 
 Devereux, whose servant you were, I believe, for 
 several years " 
 
 " Servant !" interrupted mademoiselle, colouring 
 and bridling. " Madame Devereux was my 
 frieiid ; but let that pass, c*est cgal r
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEBEUX. 183 
 
 " To make inquiries conceming Madame Deve- 
 reux. I am invested with authority, you will 
 please to understand, to make those inquiries. I 
 ako wish to see M. le Lieutenant Jameson/' 
 
 " You are unfortunate, monsieur ; Madame 
 Devereux is in her grave/' 
 
 *' How, mademoiselle ! Madame Devereux in 
 her grave ? Did you not, a very short time since, 
 accompany her to Oaks Park, and show her to Sir 
 WiUiam Devereux ?" 
 
 "Quite true; you are perfectly exact It is 
 since that Madame Devereux died, in this very 
 house. Her grave is in the cemetery of St, 
 Jacques. She died, poor lady, of a broken heart. 
 As to M. le Lieutenant Jameson, he has, for a time 
 at least, left France. He is my cousin, monsieur 
 must understand. There is — you may or may not 
 be aware — French blood in his veins.'' 
 
 " I have heard so, mademoiselle ; but that does 
 not concern me. It is very desirable to clear up 
 aU doubt concerning Madame Devereux. I am 
 here for that purpose. I feel confident, mademoi- 
 selle, that you could, if so pleased, substitute cer-
 
 184 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 tainty for suspense, and I really do not understand 
 why you should not do so/' 
 
 "It would — it will be — an afflictive certainty, 
 monsieur, to your patron, Sir William, and the Lady 
 Yiolet Yerigrand. Nevertheless, it is necessary 
 that the truth should be spoken. The story told 
 you by that poor faithful Trump is in the main 
 correct. But he was a mere tool. Lieutenant 
 Jameson, my cousin, is a very handsome person, a 
 man a bonnes fortunes^ you understand. He was 
 audacious. By my means he obtained an intro- 
 duction to Madame Devereux before she was mar- 
 ried, Men entendu. There was passion on both 
 sides — imprudence. Monsieur will understand. 
 All this was, as I thought, known only to me, 
 Mademoiselle Lavinia, and my cousin. He re- 
 joined his ship. Many letters passed — deeply 
 compromising letters, as it proved, for Mademoi- 
 selle Lavinia — which, had I known of, would, I 
 think, have induced me to dissuade her from mar- 
 rying Monsieur (now Sir "William) Devereux. I 
 do not, however, suppose that I could have dis- 
 suaded her. Her passions were fierce, exalted.
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 185 
 
 She must have had lefeu Francais in her veins; 
 and she knew that the Lady Violet was attached to 
 Mr. Devereux — the Lady Violet, whom she hated 
 with a deadly bitterness I could give no expression 
 to ! The marriage, as you know, took place. It was 
 an unhappy one. Madame Devereux hated her hus- 
 band ; her whole soul was my cousin's. He came 
 to England ; the intimacy was renewed — he passing 
 for her brother, Captain Meriton. The idea of a 
 separation between the husband and wife assumed 
 a settled form. Madame urged it on ; and the 
 scheme would no doubt have succeeded, with my 
 zealous help, — (I do not pretend to superfine mo- 
 rality, Monsieur Police-officer), — when a shocking 
 contretemps upset it. Madame's secret — her 
 liason with my cousin — was known to another per- 
 son, a relative of hers ; a young lady with whom 
 she had exchanged girlish confidences. That per- 
 son, whom it is unnecessary to name, made an 
 imprudent marriage (in a different sense from that 
 of Madame Devereux), and the husband, fallen into 
 insolvency, demanded a very heavy price to keep 
 silent till the deed of separation was completed.
 
 186 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEEEUX. 
 
 Very well. That sum, large as it was, would have 
 been paid^ had it not come to our knowledge that 
 he, believing — foolishly believing — that Lavinia 
 and my cousin had been married (legally married, — 
 not meiely par amour), vf as resolved, after getting 
 possession of the sum stipulated for, to acquaint Sir 
 WilHam, before the treaty of separation was irre- 
 vocably sealed ; to entitle himself to a yet greater 
 money-payment from the baronet — (he was not 
 then a baronet, it is true) — by the disclosure of 
 all he knew, and believed he knew. What was to 
 be done ? There was a choice of difiSculties. Cer-? 
 tainly, had it come to Sir William's knowledge (it 
 is as wejl to name him by his present title) that 
 his wife had been the paramour — was living in 
 actual adultery with my cousin, the lieutenant, 
 passing himself off under the name of Meriton — ^he 
 would have whistled her off without a shilling; and 
 the English law would have justified him, we were 
 told, in doing so. We had to do with an impla- 
 cable foe. Finally, the scheme revealed to you, 
 under duress, by Trump, was resorted to. Madame 
 supposed to be drowned, our enemy was disarmed.
 
 SIR WILLIA31 AND LADY DEVEREUX. 187 
 
 There were means of making terms with him, I 
 must tell you, supposing he had no great temp- 
 tation to babble. Besides, and above all, Madame 
 gloated over this thought : That the Lady 
 Violet would marry the supposed widower; and 
 that she (Lavinia) would burst upon her, and, in 
 the full blaze of her splendour, trample the spu- 
 rious Lady Devereux into dust I That was not 
 exactly my cousin's game. He — (we are children 
 of Voltaire, monsieur, — believing, more or less, 
 only in that which we see — can be sure of; a 
 misfortune, perhaps, but a fact nevertheless)— he 
 (my cousin), I was saying, had another game. He 
 believed that he might make a fine market of Sir 
 William after he should have married the woman 
 he adored, by offermg to conceal for ever from the 
 world that the true Lady Devereux still lived. I 
 was the agent selected to carry out — to consum- 
 mate — that design. Sir William's scepticism, his 
 impetuosity baffled us. I myself, knowing some- 
 * thing of your English laws, got frightened. I and 
 Lady Devereux returned to Amiens. Her health 
 gave way ; and about three weeks since she died,
 
 188 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 in this house, as I have told you. Voila, mon- 
 sieur, is the whole story, in its broad outline. You 
 may spare comment." 
 
 " It has run off your tongue, mademoiselle,'' I 
 replied, with a sneer I could not wholly repress, 
 " very fluently. Can you give me the name and 
 address of the relative, or the husband of the rela- 
 tive (Madame Devereux's relative), whose imper- 
 tinent interference spoiled your cousin's first 
 game?" 
 
 " I will not give you that information ; certainly 
 not." 
 
 " Perhaps mademoiselle will condescend to say 
 why — with what object in view — she has favoured 
 me so far ?" 
 
 " My faith ! — the object is very direct — simple. If 
 Sir William Devereux (one of the richest of your 
 rich English aristocrats) will purchase the secret of 
 his wife's existence after his marriage with the 
 Lady Violet Verigrand, it may be his, and will 
 be inviolably kept. To satisfy their own con- ' 
 sciences,'' added Mademoiselle Julie, with a mock- 
 ing laugh, " the baronet and Lady Violet can now
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 189 
 
 be really married privatel}' ; the expected infant 
 will be legitimatized, and all be well. And please 
 to understand_, Monsieur le Police-officer, that we do 
 not undertake to furnish proof— Z^^a^ proof— that 
 Madame Devereux is even now dead, except we— » 
 (Oh ! parhleu ! I speak for myself as well as for 
 my cousin Edouard) — are hberally arranged with. 
 What I have said about her death is, of course, 
 nothing — mere gossip — bavardage, unsupported by 
 proof." 
 
 It could not be denied that I had to fight Sir 
 William's battle with antagonists very cunning 
 of fence. But their assault, opposed to a prac- 
 tised hand like mine, would have been more 
 likely to be successful if it had been less flashy. 
 Besides, there were so many incongruities — so 
 much three-volume-novel nonsense in the story 
 Mademoiselle Julie had told without pausing 
 to take breath, that I was not for one moment 
 bamboozled. It was just as likely to be true that 
 Madame Devereux was alive at that moment as 
 at any time after Sir Wilham's marriage with the 
 Lady Violet*
 
 190 SIR WILLIAM AND IADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 " I am/' said I, " but a very humble interme- 
 diary in this matter ; but, in reporting what has 
 passed between us, mademoiselle, it will be neces- 
 sary, if * a transaction' is to be arrived at, that I 
 should know what price is demanded for provvng 
 the death of Lady Devereux about three weekd 
 since T 
 
 *' ! as to that," said Madame Saint Aubin, speak- 
 ing for the first time, " nothing unreasonable will 
 be insisted upon by either Julie or Edouard. There 
 must be consideration on both sides, and good 
 faith on both sides. Let Sir William propose. If 
 the offer be reasonable, it will be accepted — I 
 answer for that; and also, I repeat, good faith will 
 be kept." 
 
 Little more was said, and I left, — promising they 
 might expect to hear from me, — in a state of deep 
 perplexity. In what a confusing labyrinth of 
 audacious lying, transparent absurdity with sub- 
 terfuge, had I got involved ! Had Mrs. Devereux 
 been drowned or not ? "Was it Mrs. Devereux who, 
 with the Demoiselle Saint Aubin, was seen at Oaks 
 Park? And was Mrs. or Lady Devereux alive
 
 SIK WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 191 
 
 or dead ? I could not decide. All three were open 
 questions. 
 
 Sir William Devereux listened to my narrative 
 in gloomy silence. Proof that his wife died a few 
 weeks previously — even if such proofs were forth- 
 coming — availed nothing. The Lady Violet's life 
 would not be saved by that. Perhaps she was 
 unduly sensitive. It might be so. The earl himself 
 and her sisters would perhaps be of that opinion* 
 Sir William would not give the Saint Aubins a 
 guinea ! " Enter into an arrangement with them I 
 Never ! by G — , never ! " 
 
 I thought Sir William's intellect was giving way ; 
 and after reaching home, carefully examined my 
 hand, to see if all my trump cards had been played. 
 How about that cover of a letter addressed to Mrs. 
 Devereux, at] the Royal Hotel, E-yde, marked 
 2oth of July, Bermondsey, and having the 
 initials " C. D." in the corner ? That stone, not ^ 
 promising one_certainly, was still unturned ; and 
 there might be something under it, and it 
 would be merely the loss of a few shillings did
 
 192 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 nothing (which was most likely)] come of it ; so, 
 having recourse to a favourite expedient of mine, 
 I sent the following advertisement to the Times : 
 — " If C. D., who, on the 24th of July last year, 
 posted, or caused to be posted, in Bermondsey, a 
 letter, addressed *Mrs. Devereux, Royal Hotel, 
 Ryde, Isle of Wight,' will communicate with 
 Scotland-yard, he will much oblige/' 
 
 The next day, the following note came to hand : 
 — " The Reverend Christopher Doyle sent a letter 
 to Mrs. Devereux — with whom, however, he had no 
 acquaintance, and has never seen — on the 24th of 
 July last year. It was posted in Bermondsey, and 
 directed to the Royal Hotel, Ryde. — St. George's 
 Catholic Church." 
 
 "All I have to tell you," said the Reverend 
 Christopher Doyle, " is this. I was summoned to 
 attend a young woman calling herself Mrs. 
 Lorimer, who was known to be dying at — stop, I 
 have the number of the street in my diary — ' Mrs. 
 Lorimer, believed to be dying, at No. 17, South- 
 street, Bermondsey.* She was known to be a
 
 SIR WILLIAil AXD LADY DEVEREUX. 193 
 
 fallen woman, and was still (thougli emaciated by 
 want and disease) remarkably beautiful. She was 
 in want of the commonest necessaries. She told 
 me (not in confession) that she was the natural 
 
 daughter of , and sister by blood to Mrs. 
 
 Devereux, with whom she had been once on terms 
 of intimacy. They w^ere as like, people said, as 
 two peas. Mrs. Devereux had, however, cast her 
 off. Still, if any one of character — whose word she 
 could believe — ^vrote, stating that she (her own 
 father's child) was dying for want of common 
 necessaries, it was' probable that help — too late 
 help, it might be — would be afforded. I wrote to 
 Mrs. Devereux. She, accompanied by a gentle- 
 man, hurried, as I was told, to London ; saw Mrs. 
 Lorimer — but too late to save her. I did not (as I 
 told you) see Mrs. Devereux. Her blood -sister, 
 Mrs. Lorimer, I saw a few days afterwards, in her 
 coffin; and I myself celebrated the rites of the 
 Church over her grave. That is all I have to 
 communicate respecting the unfortunate woman/' 
 
 I thanked the reverend gentleman, and directed 
 my steps to No. 17, South-street, Bermondsey. 
 
 VOL. L 13
 
 194 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 It was a large house, full of gay lodgers. The 
 owners or renters of the place fought very shy of 
 my questions ; but, at last, by dint of both promises 
 and threats, I managed to wring out of them that 
 a Mrs. Lorimer, a handsome young woman, did 
 lodge in the house at about the time mentioned ; 
 had been seized with small-pox ; was visited by the 
 Rev. Mr. Doyle, a Catholic priest ; died ; and had 
 been buried by him. They (the renters) had not 
 liked to talk much about it at the time, for fear of 
 alarming the other lodgers and visitors. Besides, 
 Mrs. Lorimer, pretty nearly up to the time of her 
 seizure, always paid well, and boasted of grand 
 friends. Sure econgh, two of those friends, a lady 
 and gentleman, did come to see her a few days 
 before she died ; the lady " the very image of Mrs. 
 Lorimer" the woman said — " twin-sisters could not 
 be more alike." That was, before she had the 
 small -pox, of course. The lady and gentleman went 
 away, before the funeral took place, in a cab 
 together. There seemed to have been a row 
 between them. 
 
 " Would a fellow get anything now," asked the
 
 SIR WILLIAM AXD LADY DEVEREUX. 195 
 
 black-browed, gallows-bird-looking landlord, '"'if 
 he showed where the lady might be any day 
 dropped upon ? " 
 
 "Yes ! twenty sovereigns, down on the nail!" 
 
 'Tm your man, Mr. Officer. She lives in a 
 pretty little place at Camberwell. I seed her 
 there not a week ago." 
 
 " You are the very fellow T have been looking 
 for, a long time. You must go with me ; and, first, 
 to Belgrave-square." 
 
 My object in going to Belgrave-square was to 
 obtain the attendance of some one who knew 
 Sir AYilliam Devereux's first wife. That was 
 easily managed ; and all three left for Cam- 
 berwell. 
 
 The cab stopped (by direction of the landlord of 
 No. 17, South-street, who was seated on the box) 
 at the gate of a neat little villa. Out we hurried, 
 entered the front garden without ceremony, walked 
 up, and knocked at the villa door. Before it 
 could be opened, a lady and gentleman looked out of 
 the parlour window, to see who knocked so loudly. 
 The female face was a remarkably handsome one; 
 13—2
 
 196 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 the gentleman's had a deep white scar across his 
 swarthy forehead. 
 
 " Good ." exclaimed Sir William's servant, 
 
 whom we had brought with us ; " Good ' ! 
 
 my master's first wife — Mrs. Devereux !" 
 
 The door opened at the instant, and we were in 
 the presence of the lady and gentleman. 
 
 " That is Mrs. Lorimer, as was dead and buried!" 
 exclaimed 'No. 17, South-street' — "now I see 
 her close." 
 
 "And the lady aint my master's first wife," 
 said Sir William's servant, " now I look at her. 
 But wonderful alike, though — wonderful !" 
 
 "What is the meaning of this insolent in- 
 trusion ?" exclaimed the gentleman, with but mock 
 effrontery of voice and manner. 
 
 " It means, Lieutenant Jameson, alias Captain 
 Meriton, that you are my prisoner ! I have a 
 warrant for your apprehension." 
 
 "Must matters be pushed to extremity, Mr. 
 Clarke ?" asked Lieutenant Jameson — recovering, 
 after a lengthened pause, from the state of coma, 
 one might almost say, into which the suddenness
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 197 
 
 of the catastrophe had thrown him. " Is it too 
 late to come to an understanding — an arrange- 
 ment f 
 
 " I cannot say that it is, or is not, too late. If 
 you and this lady choose to volunteer any state- 
 ment the truth of which is proveable, I will listen 
 and give you my opinion after hearing it I can 
 promise nothing more." 
 
 " Be it so. The game is clearly up, I perceive. 
 We can speak privately ?" 
 
 "Sir WiUiam Devereux's servant must hear 
 what you have to say. You," said I, addressing 
 *No. 17, South-street,' "may go and keep company 
 with the cabman." 
 
 The lieutenant (he had long since been dis- 
 missed the Royal Service) and Mrs. Lorimer 
 were perfectly luminous — eminently satisfactory. 
 There was some truth in the cooked narra- 
 tives of Trump and Mademoiselle Saint Aubin. 
 There had been a guilty liason between Jameson 
 and the first wife of Sir William, before marriage ; 
 and this was the reason why the criminal wife was 
 so eager for a legtol separation. Within a few days
 
 198 SIB WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 
 
 of the hoped-for consummation of her wishes, the 
 letter was received from the Reverend Christopher 
 Doyle. Mrs. Lorimer, as she called herself, 
 was known to have letters from Mrs. Deve- 
 reux, more or less compromising ; which it was 
 desirable to prevent falling into the hands of 
 strangers. 
 
 When Mrs. Devereux and her paramour 
 arrived at South-street, Bermondsey, Mrs. 
 Lorimer's disease had taken a favourable 
 turn — there was no longer any danger — but Mrs. 
 Devereux, a woman of full habit, was almost 
 instantly stricken down by the terrible malady. 
 So rapidly did fatal symptoms supervene, that she 
 died within forty-eight hours. The remarkable 
 likeness of the two blood- sisters, no doubt, 
 suggested the expedient — which must, however, 
 have required great ingenuity to successfully 
 carry it out — of substituting one woman for the 
 other. 
 
 ;Mrs. Lorimer lent herself — she candidly con- 
 fessed — readily to the fraud, tempted by the pro- 
 mises made to her ; and the strange device was
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX. 199 
 
 hit upon of hiring Charles Trump to personate the 
 deceased lady at the Ryde hotel, and get pre- 
 tendedly drowned, in her name. Sir William 
 Devereux was sure to marry the Lady Violet. By 
 clever contrivance, aided by Mrs. Lorimer's resem- 
 blance to his first wife, he might be made to pay 
 dearly for the conspirators' silence. The chance 
 Avas, at all events, the only one left, and was worth 
 trying for. The game was not, in my opinion, 
 played so skilfully as it might have been. Still, 
 had Sir William yielded — criminally yielded — as 
 hundreds of men would have done, to the first 
 threat, and agreed (believing he had actually seen 
 his former wife "with his own bodily eyes"), it 
 must have succeeded. 
 
 There was no prosecution of the guilty parties. 
 All that Sir William Devereux required was 
 irrefragible proof of the death, and the time of 
 the death, of his first wife. That w^as obtained 
 in over-measure ; the frail woman's shame was 
 concealed from the world, and the Morning 
 Post was enabled .to announce that the report 
 of the separation of Sir William and Lady
 
 200 SIR WILLIAM AND LADY DEVEREUX- 
 
 Devereux originated in an entire misconception. 
 Nothing of the kind had really taken place. 
 In a few years it was forgotten by all but a 
 very few that such a report had ever been in 
 circulation.
 
 201 
 
 JAMES HARGEAYE, THE BAEEISTEE. 
 
 James Hargkave aod I were lads at school 
 together, and fast friends. He was very intelli- 
 gent — full, brimfull of spirit — and far superior to 
 me as a scholar. When I left school to commence 
 my noviciate in Bow-street, our severance was for 
 many years complete. We occasionally passed 
 each other in the streets; but the recognition, 
 when it took place, was, on both sides, cold 
 and distant. The family had received a con- 
 siderable lift in life, which enabled his parents, 
 although they had seven or eight other children, 
 to complete his education in the London Uni- 
 versity. That accomplished — very successfully, as 
 I saw by a newspaper report — James Hargrave "ate 
 his terms" at Lincoln's Inn, was in due time called 
 to the bar, and — knowing, as I did, his mounting 
 ambition, I was sure he had from that moment
 
 202 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BAKEISTER. 
 
 tbe great seal in his imaginary clutch. It was 
 almost the duty of such a man to tacitly disclaim 
 any personal acquaintance with a mere police- 
 officer. He obtained, however, so far as I could 
 judge by the law reports, very few briefs during 
 five or six years; and when engaged, his part 
 was a very subordinate, trifling one. Gall, worm- 
 wood, hell-fire that, I was quite sure, to James 
 Hargrave ; in whom, assuming the boy to be 
 father of the man, the quality of patience would be 
 strikingly deficient. 
 
 The melodramatic mind of London, and, I have 
 no doubt, of the country generally, was strongly 
 excited by the death, with its attendant circum- 
 stances, of Caroline Denby, who was found 
 drowned in the Regent's canal. I mean by the 
 "melodramatic mind," that which revels in — gloats 
 over — details of mystery and crime. Caroline 
 Denby had been nursemaid in the family of Mr. 
 George Watson — a gentleman of fortune, residing 
 in Regent's Park, and having the reputation of 
 being a great admirer of youthful beauty. Caro- 
 line Denby, whom I myself had observed with
 
 JA3IES HAKGEAVE, THE BARRISTEE, 203 
 
 interest, was a remarkably pretty, interesting girl ; 
 her age when she perished eighteen only. The 
 body was discovered, soon after dawn, by a passer- 
 by. Police-ofiScers were soon upon the spot, who 
 at once declared that the poor girl had been 
 murdered. By the marks round her throat, there 
 seemed no doubt that she had been strangled 
 and afterwards flung by the assassin into the 
 canal. In one of her pockets was found a note, in 
 a man's hand, signed "George," appointing to 
 meet her, at nine o'clock the previous evening, 
 not far from where the corpse was found; and 
 there was positive proof that the unfortunate girl 
 had been seduced. An inquest was held on the 
 body, and a verdict returned of ^vilful murder 
 against some person or persons unknown. A 
 reward of one hundred pounds was offered by 
 the Government for the discovery of the unknown 
 person or persons, and the affair was placed in my 
 hands. 
 
 I had not heard the evidence given before 
 the coroner, but I had read it as reported in 
 the newspapers. The impression which it made
 
 204 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER, 
 
 upon me and the public generally was that 
 Caroline Denby had been seduced and murdered 
 by her gay master, Mr. George Watson ; although 
 sujBficient legal proof of his guilt might not have 
 been adduced. He had been seen to toy with 
 the girl when he thought himself unobserved ; 
 and when Mrs. Watson, whose suspicions would 
 seem to have been aroused, insisted, with tears 
 and in the hearing of servants, that "the 
 hussy " should be immediately discharged, 
 her husband angrily refused compliance. The 
 name at the foot of the note found in the girl's 
 pocket was his own — " George ;" and though 
 the writing did not appear to be his, that might 
 have been easily managed. * Moreover, it was 
 shown that the girl — refused leave to go out 
 on the evening in question — had appealed to her 
 master, by whom it was instantly given. To 
 be sure, it was proved that Mr. Watson had 
 gone early to the Princess's Theatre, and been 
 seen and spoken with there by several persons; 
 two of whom expressed their belief — almost positive 
 conviction — that he remained in the house till
 
 JAilES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 205 
 
 the end of the second piece, at about ten o'clock ; 
 and the assignation made in the note was for 
 nine. But the hour misfht have been changed 
 by verbal agreement, and it was remembered that 
 Caroline Denby had asked leave to remain out 
 till eleven. Then Mr. Watson had gone to the 
 pit — a most unusual circumstance — and he might 
 easily have slipped out of a theatre so cirowded as 
 the Princess's on that night, without his departure 
 or absence being noticed by the two friendly 
 witnesses. Another suspicious item was, that, 
 having agreed to preside that very evening at 
 an anniversary-dinner, in aid of a charity, at Pad- 
 dington, he sent a note, excusing himself, on the 
 plea of indisposition, a few hours before he should 
 have taken the chair. All this, combined with an 
 injudicious suggestion,- offered by a solicitor who 
 watched the case on his behalf, that Caroline 
 Denby might have committed suicide, having first 
 vainly attempted to do so by strangling herself, 
 which would account for the marks aboyt her 
 neck, before throwing herself into the water — a 
 suggestion which gteatiy irritated the jury, whose
 
 206 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 minds were full of commiseration for the unhappy 
 victim — nearly brought down upon him a verdict of 
 wilful murder. The coroner — calmer, more skilled 
 in estimating the real value of evidence — dissuaded 
 them from adopting that course, and the verdict 
 as already given was recorded. With that verdict 
 the authorities at the Home Office and Scctland- 
 yard were so dissatisfied, that, at the same time 
 instructions were given me to thoroughly investi- 
 gate the case, officers were directed to watch the 
 house in Regent's Park day and night ; and should 
 Mr. George Watson leave it, never for one 
 moment to lose sight of him. In the event of his 
 attempting to leave the country, they were ordered 
 to arrest him forthwith. As I have said, a large 
 reward — one hundred pounds — was offered for the 
 discovery of the murderer or murderers. 
 
 The evidence, of which I have given a summary, 
 did not, when more critically weighed, appear to 
 press so heavily against Mr. Watson. As to 
 having been seen toying with Caroline Denby, 
 there were few pretty girls Avith whom, if he had a 
 chance, he did not attempt to toy ; and I saw by
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 207 
 
 the copy of the depositions furnished me, it was 
 sworn that Denby — though, like Mr. Watson, she 
 believed they were both unseen — repulsed his 
 advances with indignation up to the last. And 
 would a man, contemplating the murder of the girl, 
 subscribe his real Christian name to a note appoint- 
 ing the place, naming the hour, where and when 
 the foul deed was to be perpetrated ? And if the 
 murder — by strangulation, there seemed no doubt — 
 had been committed during a sudden access of 
 passion, would not the assassin have searched the 
 pocket of his victim, to assure himself that no such 
 damning evidence of his guilt as that note should 
 be found upon the body ? It was true that that 
 favourable inference would not bear much strain- 
 ing — proving, as it seemed, too much — that the 
 man named, whoever .he was who wrote the note, 
 made the assignation, was oiot the murderer. 
 Again, why should Mr. George ^Yatson seek to 
 compass the death of the girl ? He was rich ; 
 could make ample compensation, as far as money 
 could make compensation for the crime of seduc- 
 tion ; and it would not have been the first time
 
 208 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 that he had braved the world's censure in that 
 respect. The ver}^ fact, too, that he had openly 
 given the girl permission to leave the house and 
 stop out till eleven on the evening when she 
 met her death told rather for than against him. 
 It was a fine moonlight evening too. Strange, 
 then, an intentional murderer — having no over- 
 whelming: inducement to commit such a crime — 
 should take pains, one might almost say, to ensure 
 detection ! 
 
 The one circumstance which continued to wei^h 
 
 o 
 
 in my mind against him, was that deemed most 
 favourable to him, — that he had been seen, spoken 
 with, in the pit of the Princess's Theatre, by several 
 persons, two of whom were almost certain he 
 remained in the house till ten o'clock. Why did 
 he go there — declining, under a false pretence, an 
 important engagement, that he might do so — 
 except on purpose to be seen by those who could 
 prove the fact ? 
 
 Finding myself in this state of dubiety, it 
 occurred to me that I might as well call upon Mr. 
 George Watson; frankly admit that I was the
 
 JIMES HAKGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 209^ 
 
 detective officer commissioned to investigate the' 
 unfortunate affair, and invite him, if he thought 
 that by doing so he might hope to clear himself of 
 the probably unmerited stigma with which public 
 opinion, as he could not but be aware, branded his 
 name, to acquaint me with any circumstance tha^ 
 had fallen within his own knowledge, which might 
 supply but a hint, if of the faintest kind, that 
 might help to the solution of the mystery. I 
 scarcely need remark that I should first remind 
 him that any statement he should volunteer 
 might be used against him, whilst it could 
 only be evidence in his favour indirectly : that is> 
 by fixing suspicion upon, and, as I hoped, leading' 
 to the discovery of the real culprit. Before, how- 
 ever, hazarding such an unusual step, I consulted 
 the chiefs at Scotland-yard, who, with some hesita- 
 tion, agreed that it might be well for me to call 
 upon Mr. George Watson. 
 
 I was very well received. Mr. George Watson 
 was a gentlemanly person, and I had no doubt, under 
 ordinary circumstances, a gay, convivial, entertain- 
 ing companion. For the moment he was " a grave 
 VOL. L 14
 
 210 JAMES HARGnAVE, THE BARKISTER 
 
 man/' oppressed, beaten down by the terrible 
 anathema hurled at him by public opinion. 
 
 He expressed gratitude for my visit, and would 
 freely tell me all he knev/ or suspected that had 
 any possible reference to the cruel death of Caroline 
 Denby. 
 
 " I admit at once," he said, "that I was smitten — 
 to the extent that a gentleman of forty, of cultivated 
 taste, and the married father of a family can be 
 supposed to be smitten — with such a person as 
 Caroline Denbj^ I made overtures to her, all 
 which were impulsed. Almost the last time I spoke 
 with her, she indignantly exclaimed, * Ah ! I shall 
 be as good as Mrs. Watson before long!' I 
 laughed " 
 
 " One moment, Mr. Watson. This may be im- 
 portant. As I understand, you were making what 
 you call overtures to the girl, when she, repulsing 
 those overtures witb indignation, said, * I shall be 
 as good as Mrs. Watson before long.' Is that so?" 
 
 " Yes ; Caroline Denby made use of those words, 
 or words to that effect." 
 
 " Go on, sir, if you please."
 
 JAMES HAEGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 211 
 
 " Mrs. Watson, as you are aware, refused to 
 allow Caroline Denby to go out on the fatal even- 
 ing. I gave her permission. I had more than one 
 motive for doing so. In the first place, I was 
 jealous!'' 
 
 " Jealous ! I don't understand." 
 
 " Yes, jealous ! It is somewhat humiliating to 
 confess so much, in reference to a nursery-girl, 
 however attractive. I asked her where she was 
 going ; the reply was, to meet a Mend, who would 
 take her to the Princess's Theatre. * Your young 
 man?' said I, perhaps with some bitterness. 
 * My young iinan/ she pertly rephed, with a bridling 
 smile, * is a geiiileriian!' I was determined to see 
 who the young ' gentleman' was, gave her leave 
 to go, wrote to the secretary of the Charitable 
 Institution, excusing niyself from taking the chair 
 at the dinner, and proceeded to the Princess's. 
 I concluded that Caroline and her * young gentle- 
 man' would be in the pit I was disappointed. She 
 was not there ; and I did not remain till the end 
 of the second piece, — though I have no doubt the 
 witnesses who deposed to that effect believe I did. 
 14.— 2
 
 212 JAMES HAKGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 I waited only till the half-pay people came in; and 
 Caroline Denby not coming with them, I left." 
 
 Mr. George Watson paused, his countenance 
 expressing a doubt as to whether he ought to go 
 on. He was not long in deciding that it would be 
 well to do so. 
 
 " I left the theatre in an ill-humour. To be 
 bafiled in the pursuit of any object which, if gained, 
 would be flung, after a moment's possession, in all 
 probability, carelessly aside, is, I need not tell 
 you, to invest that object with a thousand-fold more 
 attractions. I almost began to fancy myself seriously 
 in love with Caroline Denby. Absurdity, of course I 
 Still, that influence was upon me at the time ; 
 and remembering to have once seen the girl stroll- 
 ing near the Regent's Canal with a young fellow, 
 — ^young gentleman, if you like, — the notion entered 
 my head of seeking her there. And there I saw 
 her. It was a splendid night. Caroline and the 
 young gentleman, — I concluded from his figure and 
 carriage that he was young, for I did not see his face, 
 — Caroline and the young gentleman were walking 
 side by side, but apart. He wore a military cap
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 213 
 
 and cloak. I might have approached nearer, but 
 that I saw Mr. Westbrook's (my neighbour) pony- 
 chaise approaching ; and not wishing to be seen 
 there— why I can scarcely tell; men are not cased 
 in glass, through which their thoughts, passions, 
 intentions can be discerned — I turned away, 
 hailed an omnibus in the Hampstead-road, and 
 presently found myself in the Hayraarket. I did 
 not return home till the next day." 
 
 "The person you saw with Caroline Denby 
 wore, you say, a military cap and cloak ; but you 
 did not see his face. Was he tall or short, stout or 
 slender?" 
 
 " About the middling height, neither slender nor 
 stout." 
 
 "And they were walking apart? — as if they 
 were or had been quarrelling ? " 
 
 "Yes, that was my impression ; or perhaps I 
 have only thought so since I heard of the catas- 
 trophe." 
 
 " I can understand that. You have nothing to 
 add — no important circumstance V 
 
 " None that I can at present call to mind."
 
 214 
 
 " Of course you understand, Mr. Watson, that if 
 at any future time you, or any person representing 
 you, should attempt to prove that you were at the 
 Princess's Theatre till ten o'clock, I should be 
 under the necessity of stating that by your own 
 voluntaiy avowal you left much earlier than 
 that?" 
 
 " True, Mr. Clarke ; but I believe you cannot 
 give a part only of the voluntary statement I have 
 made in evidence against me. It must be admitted 
 in its entirety, quantum valeat, or not at all." 
 
 " Humph ! I regret to find, Mr. Watson, you 
 are so well acquainted with the practice of our 
 criminal courts. It deprives your statement of 
 much of its value in my eyes. Good day, sir ; I 
 leave you for the 'present!' 
 
 He started, and his face perceptibly paled. I 
 had emiDhasized, both by tone and look, the last 
 three words ; feeling sure that, though he might 
 have told me the truth, it was not all the truth. 
 
 " Stop one moment,"' he exclaimed, as I was 
 leaving the room ; '* stop one moment. Let me 
 try to remember. No," he added, after a minute or
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 215 
 
 so's consideratioD, "no, I can recollect nothing 
 else." 
 
 At my lodgings, a man who gave the name of 
 Alexander Kinfj was waitinof for me. He had seen 
 bj the placard offering the one hundred pounds 
 reward that any information relative to the murder 
 of Caroline Denbv was to be communicated to me, 
 and he had called to say what he knew about the 
 matter. First, as to himself. He was a groom out 
 of place, and had formerly lived with Mr. "Watson, 
 a very kind master, but who had refused to give 
 him a character for sobriet}^ As that would be 
 sure to come out, King thought it best to say so 
 at once. The man added "that he had waited to 
 see if a reward would be offered before saying 
 anything." 
 
 " Very well. And now what have you to say ? " 
 
 " This : that I saw Mr. George AVatson, at about 
 
 nine o'clock in the evening when Caroline Denby 
 
 was murdered, talking with her, not one hundred 
 
 yards from where the body was found." 
 
 *' You did ? Are you sure ? Did he see you ? " 
 " I am sure, as I saw his face as plainly as I see
 
 216 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BAERISTER. 
 
 yours. He did not see me. I was curious to find 
 out what was going on, and took care he should 
 not I was not quite near enough to hear what 
 they were talking about ; but I heard Mr. "Watson, 
 who seemed to be in a great passion, call her " a 
 ridiculous fool." Just then Mr. Westbrook's pony 
 .chaise came in sight, and Mr. Watson bolted. I 
 followed, wishing to keep him in view, and think- 
 ing that he would perhaps return. I wanted to get 
 a hold of him, you see, so as to make him give me 
 a character. I like to speak out plain. He got 
 into an omnibus ; I climbed up to the top, but 
 there I was done. The 'bus stopped to take some 
 one in, and hang me if he mustn't have then slipped 
 out; for no one was taken up afterwards, and 
 when we stopped at the Oxford-street end of 
 Tottenham-court-road, he was gone. I cut back 
 again; but neither Mr. Watson nor Caroline 
 Denby — poor girl ! who, you must know, I myself 
 had a fancy for, which drove me to drink — was 
 there to be seen. This is what I have to say, 
 which shows Mr. Watson couldn't have been at the 
 playhouse, as his friend swore he was.''
 
 JAMES hahgrave, the barrister. 217 
 "I knew that before. Still your evidence is 
 very important You must go with me at once 
 before a magistrate. Don't frighten yourself. It 
 is my duty, believing you have spoken the truth, 
 to obtain a warrant for the arrest of Mr. George 
 Watson." 
 
 That was soon done, and within two hours after 
 leaving him, I was again with the alleged culprit, 
 accompanied this time by another oflScer. I curtly 
 told our errand, adding, " You foolishly attempted 
 to deceive me, by suppressing the fact that you 
 spoke with Caroline Denby after leaving the 
 Princess's Theatre for the purpose of seeing her. 
 The fact that you did so has since been ascertained 
 beyond a doubt." 
 
 The next day, Mr. George Watson was formally 
 charged in the Marylebone police-court with the 
 wilful murder of Caroline Denby, and then, 
 sufficient evidence having been given, the prisoner 
 was remanded. Amongst the crowded auditory I 
 noticed, and few there could have helped noticing, 
 Mr. James Hargrave, the barrister. Neither the
 
 218 JAilES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 prisoner nor the murdered girl, so far as I knew, was 
 known to him ; but had Caroline Denby been bis 
 sister, the accused his brother, he could not have been 
 more painfully excited. His flaming glance now 
 rested upon nic, now upon the prisoner, the next 
 moment upon the magistrate — upon whoever was 
 speaking or giving evidence. Strange — passing 
 strange ! To be sure, he was always of a very excitable 
 temperament ; but there was a fire in those dark 
 eyes which only volcanic passion could have kin- 
 dled. Had he seen and loved the beauteous 
 
 nursery-servant? "Was he the — the real ? 
 
 My mind refused to shape the dimly-horrible sus- 
 picion which glanced across it. 
 
 Immediately the magistrate ordered the prisoner 
 to be remanded, Hargrave pressed forward, and 
 whispered eagerly to the solicitor who appeared 
 for Mr. Watson. 
 
 " Your worship will accept bail, I trust,'' said the 
 solicitor, evidently in compliance with Hargrave's 
 suggestion. " It can be given to any amount." 
 
 " I dare say it could* But no bail can, as you 
 know, be accepted in such a case, not even by a
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 219 
 
 judge, at this stage of the inquiry. I am surprised 
 at such a question from a professional gentleman 
 of your experience."' 
 
 It was surprising, and still more so that a bar- 
 ri.ster should have suggested it. What fiend unseen 
 was whispering in Rar graves ear ? 
 
 " Mr. Clarke/' said that gentleman, accosting me 
 and proffering his hand as we left the court ; 
 " Mr. Clarke, it is a long time since we had a chat. 
 Shall you be at home tlils evening ? I wish to 
 speak with you, in confidence. You have, I see, 
 the management of this unfortunate case." 
 
 " I am instructed, Mr. Hargrave, to make strict 
 inquiry into all circumstances having the remotest 
 relation to the death of Caroline Denby; and I 
 will remain at home for the express purpose of 
 hearing what ymi have to say upon the subject. 
 It is of that, I am quite sure, you wish to 
 speak." 
 
 " True ! quite true ! In confidence, as between 
 old friends." 
 
 *' Mr. James Hargrave is a barrister, and there- 
 fore knows what ' confidence' must mean in such a
 
 220 JMIES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 case, were you my own brother. I do not invite 
 this confidence, Mr. Hargrave ; but I will accept 
 it in my character of police-officer. I frankly add 
 that you are now an object of suspicion with me, 
 in connexion with this melancholy, mysterious 
 affair." 
 
 " That suspicion will soon be removed. The 
 ' confidence' I spoke of does not relate to any wish 
 that you should keep any self-criminating secrets 
 of mine. Not at all. However, I will see you at 
 about eight o'clock this evening, and explain. Good- 
 bye till then." 
 
 Mr. James Hargrave was really drunk when he 
 called upon me — not with wine or other intoxicating 
 liquor, though he had perhaps drank freely ; but 
 with nervous excitement, passion ! His mind was 
 on fire ; but what particular demon's flaming 
 glance — whether the Demon of Hate, Revenge, 
 Jealousy, or an incarnation of all three — glared 
 in those burning eyes, I was not sufficiently skilled 
 to decide. I should presently know. 
 
 He burst forth at once : — " Watson is innocent
 
 JAMES HAEGRAVE, THE BARRISTER, 221 
 
 of the murder he is accused of ; innocent as you 
 and I. I swear it ; and yet he will be hanged — 
 hanged like a dog, unless the truth be made known. 
 And I — I alone — can put you on the track of the 
 real murderer; of the triumphant seducer — the 
 cowardly assassin, — and — oh. ! that it should 
 
 be so — my most intimate friend ! Clarke" — he went 
 on, with gathering, culminating rage — " Clarke, I 
 loved that unfortunate girl ; loved her with such 
 passion that, in a moment of delirium, I ofifered 
 to marry her. The offer was rejected. She was 
 engaged ; would be soon the wife of a gentleman 
 whom I knew well. The name of the successful 
 wooer she would not disclose. A promise had been 
 exacted from her that she should for a time keep 
 that secret. I left her in a fury. Love — rejected 
 love especially — is lynx,-eyed, and it was not long 
 before I discovered who it was that had deprived 
 me of the prize, — ^prey w^ould perhaps be the truer 
 word. It was no other than the man to whom I 
 had virtually introduced the unfortunate girl, by 
 pointing her out to him one Sunday evening in 
 the Kegent's Park, — Lieutenant George Halford,
 
 222 JAilES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 of the regiment of Foot, now quartered at 
 
 Windsor." 
 
 " Lieutenant George Halford !" 
 
 *• Lieutenant George Halford. He is often in 
 London — very often. He has influential friends, 
 you know ; d — n him !" 
 
 " You must furnish me with some proof, Mr. 
 Hargrave, before I can act upon this terrible 
 accusation." 
 
 " Furnish yourself with the proofs. Read this 
 note. You will then know how to act" 
 
 '* My DEAR Hargrave, 
 
 " Lose not a moment in forwarding to me 
 the valise which, in the hurry of leaving town on 
 Thursday morning last, I forgot to call for at your 
 chambers. It contains papers of momentous con- 
 sequence to me just now. I would run up to town 
 myself, but that I am very — very ill ! 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " George Halford." 
 
 " This note does not enlighten me, Mr. Har- 
 grave. If you have nothing else "
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BAREISTER. 223 
 
 " Tut !"— he broke in, impatiently. « Tut ! I 
 have taken the liberty to open the valise, examine 
 the papers of such momentous consequence to him 
 just now. There are several notes addressed to 
 Halford by Caroline Denby : one, the last-dated, 
 imploring him to see her without delay, in reply 
 to which he wrote that found upon his victim. He 
 is naturally apprehensive that suspicion may fall 
 upon him, — no wonder he is ill — very ill — he 
 having been seen many times with the unfortunate 
 girl; and should that be the case, what more 
 natural than that the pohce should make inquiries 
 at the chamber of his friend Hargrave, where, it is 
 known, he was generally to be found when in town? 
 Should the police do so, one of the first articles 
 they would see is the vahse, with the name of 
 Lieutenant George Halford painted thereon. In 
 one of the girl's notes," continued Hargrave, " is 
 an allusion to myself. She feared I was in the 
 habit of watching them, and bids her lover 'and 
 future husband beware of that Mr. Harcnrave/ 
 'There is danger in him,' she adds. That note 
 read by the police— by you — it will be your impera-
 
 224 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 tive duty to insist upon my appearance before the 
 magistrate, — where I shall be required to state, 
 upon oath, all I know relative to the murder. 
 That will mainly be, that I saw Halford and Caro- 
 line Denby together on the evening of the murder, 
 and heard high words pass between them." 
 " How was Halford dressed V 
 " He wore a military cap and cloak." 
 " That tallies with a statement made by Mr. 
 Watson. Did you see him at or near the place ?" 
 " I did not. Nor did I myself remain long. I 
 was not desirous that Halford should see me, and I 
 left him and Caroline Denby together." 
 
 " So far it is but a case of suspicion against Hal- 
 ford. No jury would convict upon it. What suffi- 
 cient motive could he have had for murdering the 
 girir 
 
 " A supreme motive ! " replied Hargrave, the fire 
 of passion, which had cooled somewhat, blazing 
 fiercely forth again. " Ask the wealthy widow of 
 
 the Bishop of if he had not I He was to 
 
 have married her daughter, Emily , a few 
 
 weeks hence — one of the loveliest maidens in
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER, 225 
 
 London, and who will have a do^v^y of fifty 
 thousand pounds at least. There is no question 
 that he promised Caroline Denby to make her 
 his wife — so madly infatuated, like myself, was 
 he with her ; and I have no doubt, from a passage 
 in one of the letters, that she had heard of the 
 contemplated marriage, and threatened to write to 
 the Bishop's widow/' 
 
 " Such a threat would certainly have been 
 motive sufficient. By-the-bye, I have seen you, 
 Mr. Hargrave, more than once with the ladies in 
 the late Bishop of ^s carriage." 
 
 "Very likely,'' said Hargrave, turning away. 
 " I have the honour of a slight acquaintance with 
 the family. At what hour shall you call at my 
 chambers to-morrow morning ?" 
 
 " I shall go there at once, taking another officer 
 with me. Delays are not permissible in cases of 
 homicide. Lieutenant Halford might send some 
 one for the valise. Having secured that, we shall, 
 should the letters justify such a step, be off at once 
 to Windsor." 
 
 " To arrest Halford ?" 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 JAMES HAEGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 " Unquestionably. I do not, as I said before, 
 believe that a jury will convict upon such evi- 
 dence; but it will amply justify his arrest and 
 examination before a magistrate.'' 
 
 "I think with you," said Mr. Hargrave, "that 
 a conviction, should no corroborative evidence be 
 forthcoming, would be very — very doubtful/' 
 
 "^ Not at all doubtful. He would be acquitted 
 to a certainty. You, as a barrister, must know 
 that. But the arrest, the strong suspicion of his 
 guilt, the exposure of his criminal intercourse with 
 Caroline Denby," I added, looking hard at Har- 
 grave, "will as certainly joreve^^ Ids marriage with 
 the Bishop's rich and lovely heiress .'" 
 
 " Yes, to be sure — to be sure," said Mr. James 
 Hargrave, with suddenly heightened colour. " I 
 did not think of that !" 
 
 "Didn't you?" thought 7; "then I am strangely 
 mistaken, that's all." 
 
 Lieutenant George Halford w^as taken in his 
 bed the same night, and brought immediately to. 
 London. He expressed no surprise ; but warmly
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 227 
 
 protested his innocence. The note found in the 
 girl's pocket he admitted to be his, and that he 
 had met her at the hour appointed. High words 
 passed between them, and they parted in anger. 
 I asked if it was true that he was soon to have 
 
 married the late Bishop of 's daughter. 
 
 "It is true," he replied, with strong emotion; 
 " but that dream is over, however the charge I am 
 in custody for may be disposed of.'' 
 
 As the prisoner admitted all the facts before the 
 magistrate on the following day which Mr. Hargrave 
 could have proved, that gentleman, to his great relief, 
 was not called upon to give evidence. The magis- 
 trate, though with considerable hesitation, finally 
 committed Halford for trial on the capital charge. 
 Mr. Watson was hberated, and left the court with- 
 out a stain upon his character, so far as the murder 
 of Caroline Denby was concerned. I confess that 
 I felt great doubt of the soundness of the worthy 
 magistrate's decision in both cases ; neither could 
 I help suspecting that James Hargrave knew more 
 than he chose, or dared to say, concerning the girl's 
 death. 
 
 15 — 2
 
 228 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 The Grand Jury ignored the bill preferred at 
 the Old Bailey against Lieutenant Halford, in 
 deference to the recommendation of the Recorder, 
 who, in his charge, said that as the evidence dis- 
 closed by the depositions taken before the commit- 
 ting magistrate would not justify a conviction, it 
 would be better to throw out the bill against the 
 prisoner, who might in that case be tried thereafter 
 for the murder, should more conclusive evidence of 
 his guilt be discovered. Lieutenant Halford was 
 consequently discharged out of custody, with a 
 blasted character — a free but utterly ruined man. 
 The wrong he had confessedly done Caroline Denby 
 was bitterly avenged. 
 
 Several times during the next five or six months 
 I saw Mr. James Hargrave in the late Bishop of 
 
 's carriage, always with the prelate's widow 
 
 and daughter ; and I more than once heard from 
 parties likely to be well informed that he was the 
 young lady's accepted suitor. My surprise was 
 great, therefore, when I read in the papers a 
 flaming account of her marriage with the eldest
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 229 
 
 son of a viscount in the peerage of England. A 
 fickle-minded lady, it seemed ; but coronets would 
 have charms as potent with a bishop's daughter 
 as with supposedly less worldly-minded damsels. 
 Hargrave had missed the great prize, after all. 
 Could he have foreseen that he should, would 
 Halford have been charged with the murder of 
 Caroline Denby ? I thought not — decidedly not. 
 
 The next day, a hurriedly-scrawled note from 
 Hargrave was placed in my hands by his clerk. 
 The writer wished to see me immediately. 
 
 " ^Ir. Hargrave is dying," said the pale, breath- 
 less man. '" The doctor is with him ; but nothing 
 can be done to save, or even prolong his life. 
 We must be quick, if you would see him 
 alive." 
 
 A sad spectacle awaited me at my old school- 
 fellow's chambers. Hargrave, extended upon a 
 sofa, was dying by his own aot. He had taken 
 poison, and was sinking fast He recognised me, 
 and held out his shaking hand in token that he 
 did. He then motioned for some brandy to be
 
 230 JAMES HARGRAYE, THE BARRISTER. 
 
 given to him. The spirit gave him sufficient 
 strength to say — 
 
 " Hand me that paper on the table. This paper, 
 Clarke," continued the wretched suicide, "is my 
 dying confession, written by my own hand ; and 
 knowiog myself to be dying, that I have but a few 
 minutes to live, I declare it to be the truth, the 
 whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as respects 
 the death of Caroline Denby. Read it aloud/' 
 
 " I, James Hargrave, barrister-at-law, being of 
 sound mind, make the following statement. It is 
 the discharge of a debt of honour due to Lieute- 
 nant George Halford ; and as I have at last finally 
 decided to cast off the burden of a worthless, into- 
 lerable existence, it may as well be paid. Over- 
 whelmed with pecuniary difficulties, bankrupt in 
 heart and hope, no longer capable of labour, why 
 should I live ? This act of reparation accom- 
 plished, I shall gladly — most gladly — close my eyes 
 for ever on a hateful world. As to the next, I 
 must take my chance. George Halford is innocent 
 of the death of Caroline Denby ; that is to say, 
 she perished by her own act, not by his ; though it
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 231 
 
 cannot be denied that he was indirectly the cause 
 of her untimely end. She must have thrown her- 
 self into the Reo^ent's Canal during: an access of 
 despair. I was watching thera, and distinctly 
 heard him say that was the last time they would 
 ever meet. He said something about a liberal 
 allowance of money, which the poor, proud girl 
 fiercely resented. He then went ojff, and I pre- 
 sented myself, endeavoured to soothe her passionate 
 grief with kind, respectful words ; for I loved the 
 girl, and my heart bled with pity for her. She 
 refused to be comforted, and angrily bade me 
 begone. I did go ; and was about half way to my 
 chambers when the terrible idea occurred to me — I 
 repeat that I loved, deeply loved the unfortunate 
 girl — when the terrible idea occurred to me that she 
 might in her agony of sorrow, shame, destroy her- 
 self by drowning — the canal being, as one may say, 
 so temptingly near. Instantly I turned back, 
 having been perhaps half an hour, perhaps more, 
 away. When I reached the place, she was 
 nowhere to be seen. The moon had gone down, 
 but it was starlight, and peering along the dark
 
 232 JAMES HAKGRAVE, THE BARRISTER. 
 surface of the canal, I at last descried part of a 
 white dress caught in a projecting timber of the 
 lock. With much difficulty I caught hold of it, 
 and ultimately succeeded in dragging the body out 
 of the water. It was Caroline Denby's. She 
 was quite dead, and the sight of the pale corse, the 
 lightless, blindly staring eyes, so beautiful when I 
 last, so short a time previously, looked thereon, 
 threw me into an ecstacy of rageful grief. I knelt 
 down by, embraced, kissed, hugged the dead girl ; 
 was in truth for a time, I knew not how long, mad, 
 literally mad. At last, regaining self-possession, I 
 saw discolouring marks about her neck. There 
 was nothins: of the kind when I drew her out of 
 the water. I am sure of that. I, in that passionate 
 dehrium, must have inflicted them. It was an 
 anonymous note from me, handed to the solicitor 
 at the police-court during Watson's examination, 
 which induced that gentleman to ask the surgeon 
 who was giving evidence if he was sure those marks 
 had been made before life was extinct. The 
 learned medico had no doubt they had been made 
 before life was extinct. A blockhead ! — fool I
 
 JAMES HARGRAVE, THE BAERISTER. 233 
 
 But to go OD. The danger to myself, should I be 
 found there, immediately rose up before me in 
 ghastly shadow, and I hurried away. It was an after- 
 thought of mine to endeavour to profit in a certain 
 quarter — (heartless, kindless woman — devil rather) 
 — that I might profit in a certain quarter by 
 fastening suspicion upon Half or d. Clarke, the 
 deteotive, whom I intend sending for, always, I 
 think, suspected me. If of the murder of Caroline 
 Denby, he grossly wTonged me. Mr. Watson's 
 peril also influenced me. Depraved, reckless, idle 
 scamp that I am, I am not all bad. This is all 
 I have to say. 
 
 " Signed, James Hargrave." 
 
 As I finished reading the paper, I looked round 
 upon him whose hand . had traced the characters. 
 He was dead !
 
 234 
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES EIDER 
 
 A MESSENGER from Scotland- yard brought me the 
 following note, before I was up, from the Chief 
 Commissioner :■ — " Important. — Clarke must go at 
 once to 15, Newman-street, Oxford- street, and ask 
 for Mrs. Norton^a person yesterday discharged, as 
 being convalescent, from Middlesex Hospital. The 
 officer will confer with Mrs. Norton, take full 
 notes of her statement, and immediately communi- 
 cate with Superintendent Fisher. Further instruc- 
 tions for Clarke's guidance will then be given. — 
 R M." 
 
 I quickly rose, breakfasted, and was at 15, New- 
 man-street in less than half-an-hour after receiving 
 the Commissioner's order. I had previously heard 
 that a nobleman and Cabinet Minister took an in- 
 terest in Mrs. Norton — the reason why being, that 
 owing to an accident, for which the coachman was
 
 AUGUSTUS TEilPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 235 
 
 to blame, that lady had been knocked do\Yn by 
 the noble lord's carriage, whilst crossing Oxford- 
 street. His lordship having several times visited 
 at the hospital, had heard and given credence, 
 qualified credence probably, to the singular story 
 which, not many days before the accident, she had 
 partially confided to Superintendent Fisher, and 
 whicli that functionary had civilly pooh-poohed. 
 The superintendent mentioned the circumstance to 
 me ; and I, judging from his version of what the 
 applicant had stated, thought he had done right in 
 refusing to interfere in the business as a police- 
 officer, and advising her to consult a respectable 
 solicitor. But it was a horse of quite another colour 
 now that the Commissioner, put in motion by a 
 Cabinet Minister, instructed us that the afiair was 
 " important" — urgent. 
 
 Mrs. Norton was seated, propped up with pillows, 
 in an easy chair, and if convalescent, was certainly 
 very weak. Her age would be considerably over 
 forty ; and though her face was pale, care-worn, 
 the crows'-feet stamped by time and suffering 
 deeply graven, it was evident that she had been
 
 236 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 very handsome ; that her still brilliant eyes 
 must, in youth, have blazed with the fire of many 
 triumphs. 
 
 I handed her the Commissioner's memorandum, 
 by way of introduction. She glanced at it, 
 anxiously scrutinized my look and bearing, then 
 said : — " You would seem to be the man I want. 
 Courage, caution, sagacity, are written in your face. 
 (Soft-sawder, of course ; it is soinetimes worth a 
 lady's while to flatter even a police- officer, j Courage, 
 caution, sagacity, are written in your face, if I 
 do not misinterpret the index. Those qualities, 
 combined with zeal, will all be needed to bring 
 this perplexed, perplexing business to a successful 
 issue. Please to hand me the writing-case on the 
 side-board yonder. Written memoranda are 
 scarcely required to aid suoh a memory as mine ; 
 but I am told to be particular as to dates. Are 
 you ready to take the full notes you are required 
 to submit to Superintendent Fisher ? Not a man 
 that, by-the-bye, to set the Thames on fire !" 
 
 " I am quite ready, madam." 
 
 " Very well ; and I will be as brief as possible.
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES htder 237 
 
 It is, however, I suppose, necessary to be unre- 
 served V 
 
 " Yes, madam. I cannot hope to work success- 
 fully in the dark." 
 
 The narrative was a prolix one ; the tediousness 
 of which it is not necessary to inflict upon ray 
 readers. Its kernel will be easily eliminated. 
 First, to run rapidly over Mrs. Norton's maiden 
 history : — Her father's name was Charteris ; and 
 she was a native of Arundel, Surrey. She had a 
 brother who, when a mere boy, ran off to sea, and 
 his relatives had not since heard directly from or of 
 him. The father would seem to have been a harsh 
 man — his life one of the unnumbered ^vrecks that 
 strew the pathway of the world. Starting with 
 some advantages, he had taken the wrong turning, 
 and early found himself stranded in shallows, 
 harassed by ignoble miseries. From these he was 
 rescued by the marriage of his daughter with 
 Robert Norton, Esquire, of Trafalgar House, 
 Three Bridges, a place not many miles distant, 
 and on the road from Brighton to London. Mr. 
 Norton, one of the projectors of the Brighton
 
 238 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES EYDER. 
 
 Chain Pier, a man of a speculative turn of mind, 
 was wealth}^ and though more than forty years 
 older than his bride, ventured upon matrimony 
 after he had passed his sixtieth year in unshackled 
 bachelorhood. Mr. Charteris took up his abode 
 permanently with his son in-law, to whom he was 
 junior by a score of years. One child was the 
 issue of this marriage, Emily Chantrey Norton, 
 the second baptismal name having, as I under- 
 stood, been bestowed in honour of her godfather, 
 Chantrey the sculptor, an intimate acquaintance 
 of Mrs. Norton. Seventeen years passed away. 
 The daughter, gifted with dazzling beauty, her 
 personal perfections set off, enhanced by educational 
 culture, and reputedly a rich heiress, had, I need 
 hardly say, no lack of suitors, some of them very 
 eligible ones ; one notably so, a gentleman afterwards 
 created a baronet, and, when I was ordered to see 
 and confer with Mrs. Norton, M.P. for a populous 
 borough. These were all rejected, by advice, as it 
 seemed, of Mrs. Norton. Mothers have always 
 been chartered dreamers, and I was, therefore, not 
 surprised to hear that Mrs. Norton was desirous
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE cdios JAMES RYDER. 239 
 
 and expectant of a coronet for her beautiful child, 
 and would not be content with a less prize 
 than that. This was the bait with which the 
 father of mischief anded for and caught 
 them. 
 
 One Augustus Temple, Esquire, a gentleman of 
 fashionable exterior and correspondent manners, 
 came to reside for a time near Three Bridges. He 
 rented a shooting-box in the neighbourhood, and 
 lived for several weeks in almost strict retirement. 
 He had two servants only — James Summers, a 
 groom, and, in his way, fast sporting man ; and an 
 elderly woman of the name of Berridge. She was 
 the groom's aunt, much attached to him, and 
 wholly under his control. 
 
 Mrs. Xorton had since reason to believe that 
 Mr. Temple, as he called himself, had seen Emily 
 Chantrey Norton at Brighton, and been greatly 
 struck with her rare beauty. That circumstance 
 was not allowed to transpire. The meeting and 
 resulting acquaintanceship of the young stranger 
 with Miss Norton were thought to have been 
 brought about by the accident of his having come
 
 240 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JJlMES rydee. 
 
 to reside for the time in that part of the country. 
 However that might be, Mr. Temple soon became 
 the young lady's constant companion in her walks. 
 Mrs. Norton watched the rapid progress of the 
 intimacy with natural inquietude, and at last 
 refused to permit her daughter to leave the house 
 unless accompanied by herself: a prudent step, "• 
 quickened by a hint she received from Caroline 
 Dent — Miss Emily's personal attendant — that Mr. 
 Temple had proposed private marriage to her 
 susceptible young mistress. 
 
 This, however, was denied by Miss Norton; and 
 the waiting-maid herself, when confronted with the 
 young lady, admitted that she had no better 
 authority for the assertion than her own suspicion. 
 This was false, the truth being that the mistress 
 and maid had quarrelled. Caroline Dent, follow- 
 ing her young lady's example, had been making 
 too frequent rendezvous, in her mistress's opinion, 
 with the good-looking groom, and been forbidden 
 to go out for that purpose. In the first flash of 
 resentment she had dropped the hint spoken of to 
 ;Mrs. Norton, but the breach between her and Miss
 
 AUGUSTUS TEilPLE alias JAMES EYDER. 24«1 
 
 Emily being quickly healed, she had recanted the 
 partial betrayal. 
 
 Mrs. Norton's awakened suspicions could not, 
 however, be so easily allayed. The daughter was 
 to be kept in rigorous confinement till such time 
 as Mr. Temple should make an open revelation, 
 not of his love, his passion — there could be no 
 doubt about that — but of his social position, which 
 if found to be in the mother's opinion sufficiently 
 exalted, the affair would be taken into serious 
 consideration. 
 
 Mr. Norton, I should state, was nothing in the 
 business. He was fast approaching fourscore, was 
 afflicted with perennial gout, and, which placed 
 him in still humbler subjection to his imperious 
 wife, had greatly diminished his wealth — hoio 
 greatly Mrs. Norton was afraid to distinctly 
 ascertain — by unfortunate ventures in railway 
 shares and other speculative investments. Love 
 for a man old enough to be her grandfather she 
 could never have felt, but riches — worldly astute- 
 ness — always command respect. Those titles to 
 esteem being no longer his, the husband in her 
 
 VOL. L 16
 
 242 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 eyes was a silly fool as well as a uxorious dotard. 
 It was not necessary that Mrs. Norton should tell 
 me* so in words. I also readily understood that 
 the lowering aspect of the family's pecuniary 
 prospects rendered her the easier dupe of Mr^ 
 Temple's audacious, and yet really clumsy scheme- 
 for securing Miss Emily Norton's person and 
 supposed large fortune. The eager adventurer 
 was perfectly aware that if the ambitious mother 
 knew his circumstances and antecedents, and a. 
 regular, open marriage could not be solemnized 
 without her becoming acquainted with them, the 
 affair would be over. Yes, and he was cognizant of 
 her dominant weakness. He had, indeed, already 
 prepared the ground for the fruition of his hopes. 
 
 Summers had more than once hinted confi- 
 dentially to Caroline Dent that his master was not 
 what he seemed, but a far greater person. Those 
 hesitating confidences were always followed by 
 expressions of regret for his own unguardedness of 
 speech. Should Mr. Temple know that he had 
 hinted such a thing, he should be discharged at 
 once without a character. Caroline Dent promised
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias ja:mes RYDEE. 24a 
 
 not to repeat a syllable of what lie bad said, or 
 should say, that he might wish to keep dark ; and 
 so, assured of impunity. Summers in a moment of 
 effusive candour unveiled to bis sweetheart the 
 mystery which he was bound in duty to conceaL 
 Mr. Temple was the son, the eldest son of an earl 
 — the Earl of Harrowby ; he himself Lord Sandon, 
 whose name his dear Caroline had, no doubt, often 
 seen in the newspapers. It was a great North of 
 England family. His father (the earl) was- 
 naturally desirous that he should marry amongst 
 the highest order of nobility ; but the young lord 
 was of a remarkably romantic turn of mind, 
 and had resolved not only to wed for love, but 
 never to chance the ri^k of being cheated into 
 marriage with a woman who, in accepting him for 
 a husband, might be influenced solely or chiefly by 
 the ambition of sharing his title and wealth. All 
 this and similar stuff, administered by Mrs. 
 Berridge, the groom's aunt, a crafty agent in the 
 plot, was eagerly swallowed by the silly waiting-, 
 maid, who was, moreover, made to believe that 
 immediately after Lord Sandons marriage with 
 
 16—2
 
 244 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 Hiss Norton, should it ever take place, he 
 (Summers) would be set up handsomely in business 
 in the public line by his lordship ; when he would, 
 of course, make Caroline Dent his wife without 
 delay. 
 
 Every word of these confidential revelations 
 would, it was well known l)y the plotters, be 
 communicated by the maid to her mistress; by 
 Miss Norton to her mother, who listened thereto 
 with keen interest, with fearful hope. Mrs. Norton 
 was perplexed in the extreme. The bare possi- 
 bility of her daughter one day becoming Countess 
 of Harrowby almost turned her brain, but she still 
 retained sufficient sense to require some better 
 evidence that Mr. Temple was Lord Sandon than 
 the mere assertion of his groom. How that 
 indispensable proof could be obtained without 
 miking shipwreck of so great a hope was the 
 question of questions as eagerly debated by 
 Caroline Dent as by Mrs. Norton herself — the 
 beautiful Emily being the while kept more rigidly 
 than ever au secret^ of course, to increase the 
 romantic lover's ardour. Seemingly irrefragable
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 245 
 
 evidence of the truth of the groom's story was very 
 soon obtained by a mode which Mrs. Norton 
 -did not attempt to justify, though she excused it, 
 Tinder the plea of a natural anxiety to secure so 
 brilliant a prize in the matrimonial lottery for her 
 beloved child. She might not, however, have acted 
 with so much precipitation, had it not been certain 
 that the fact of her husband's hopeless insolvency 
 would be known to every soul in Three Bridges 
 before many days had passed. She could not 
 calculate what effect such a circumstance might 
 have upon the mind of a proud, sensitive 
 nobleman. 
 
 " Caroline Dent," said Mrs. Norton, " came into 
 the room where I was sitting, early in the day, much 
 flushed and excited, with a small bag in her hand* 
 Her errand was briefly told. She had been to see 
 Mrs. Berridge, who was confined to her bed with a 
 violent cold. Mr. Temple and the groom were 
 gone to Brighton, and would not return till late in 
 the evening. Talking with Berridge — as she fre- 
 quently did — of the interrupted wooing of Miss 
 Emily by Mr. Temple, the housekeeper — (who was
 
 246 AUGUSTUS TKMPLE alias JA^fES EYDER. 
 as desirous as laer nephew tLat the marriage should 
 conae off. as soon as possible, there always being so 
 many slips betwixt the cup and the lip, and hear- 
 ing from Dent that I would insist upon clear 
 proof that the proposed bridegroom was in truth 
 Lord Sandon) — suggested an easy method of satis- 
 fying my very natural scruples. In an adjoining 
 room was Mr. Temple's writing-desk, containing his 
 correspondence. She (Berridge) knew where he 
 always placed his keys when he left the place. 
 Some of the letters were, no doubt, written by 
 
 • friends in his confidence ; and would, almost to a 
 certainty, establish who Mr. Temple really was, be- 
 yond question. ' After your mistress has read the 
 letters, they can be replaced in the desk ; her doubts 
 and fears will have been removed,' added Ber- 
 
 ' ridge ; 'and if not, no harm will have been done.' 
 * I thought so, too," continued Dent ; * and here are 
 
 ■the letters I found — five in number.' " 
 
 *' A very perilous as well as audacious trick to 
 play,'' I remarked, " had it not been so evidently a 
 trap set by the pretended Temple and his accom- 
 
 ' plices."
 
 AUGUSTUS TE3IPLE alias JAMES EYDER. 2^7 
 
 I have already remarked that I had heard the 
 substance of Mrs. Norton's narrative from Superin- 
 tendent Fisher. 
 
 " A very perilous thing to do," said Mrs. Norton. 
 "I felt that; and for a brief while hesitated to 
 read the letters. Maternal solicitude conquered/' 
 continued the lady. " There could not, I also rea- 
 soned, be any harm done, whatever might be the 
 result, as affording or not affording light upon our 
 perplexing position. The peiiisal of the letters 
 decided me. No shadow of doubt remained upon 
 my mind that Mr. Temple was Lord Sandon. 
 Only one contained no allusion whatever to that 
 circumstance. The post-mark on that was ' Brigh- 
 ton.' It was a business-letter, commencing with — 
 ' Sir.' The others, all posted in London, and 
 evidently from intimate friends, began with * My 
 dear Sandon :' but only one of the writers appeared 
 to be exactly aware of why his lordship was passing 
 under the name of Temple. That letter was conclu- 
 sive with me. I took a copy. Here it is. You 
 can read it."
 
 248 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JA3IES RYDER. 
 
 " Middle Temple, London, 
 
 '' September 28th. 
 " My dear Sandon, 
 
 " I shall not fail to call at Storr and 
 Mortimer's to-morrow, respecting the jewellery ; 
 and will let you know when Mr. Temple is likely 
 to receive it. Costly presents of the kind have, I 
 know, great influence with a certain order of 
 young ladies. I must, however, repeat my earnest 
 hope that Mrs. N. — who seems to be a judicious, 
 sensible woman — will prove inexorable. Depend 
 upon it, your fancy, whim, anythinof you please, 
 is a very absurd one. I do not, of course, dispute 
 your taste. The daughter is, I doubt not, beautiful 
 as an angel — amiable in the highest degree of 
 amiability, — refined, graceful, and so on. Never- 
 theless, run away from her — flee temptation with- 
 out delay. Such utterly unequal marriages never 
 lead to permanent happiness. The young lady 
 herself might, no doubt, be a very presentable 
 Lady Sandon, and develop, in the fulness of time, 
 into a dignified Countess of Harrowby; but the 
 plebeian connexion — the family, ray dear fellow —
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 249 
 
 there's the rub ! You don't mention how many 
 brothers and sisters the divine girl has : a dozeu 
 at least, no doubt. A faux j^cis in youth may be 
 excused — society soon condones it. But mesalli- 
 ance — the marriage of the heir to an English earl- 
 -dom with a boat-builder's (her father-in-law is a 
 boat or barge-builder, I forget which) daughter would 
 be an outrage upon the proprieties. ' The Devil 
 take the proprieties ! eh ? You do not care a 
 straw for the opinion of society. Why should you?' 
 Of course, you do not noiv, but you will care, when 
 it is too late to do so. Repentance may be late, 
 but it will be sure and bitter. However, if Wilful 
 will to water, Wilful must drench or drown. As 
 regards your legal query, the case is quite clear. 
 You are, at present, a lord by courtesy only — James 
 Ryder, commonly called Lord Sandon ; and you 
 will have to be married, should that catastrophe 
 really await you, in the name of ' Augustus Tem- 
 ple' — (since that nom de preux Chevalier is to be 
 kept up to the last^— otherwise * James Ryder.' 
 The fatal knot will then be tied fast enough. By- 
 the-bye, what excuse shall you make to the earl,
 
 250 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES BYDER. 
 
 for drawing the thumping cheque you will require 
 
 to pay Storr and Mortimer, — but they can wait, — 
 
 and to defray the enormous cost of the wedding 
 
 tour you contemplate ? This, too, not very long 
 
 after your heavy losses at Goodwood ! Again, I 
 
 say, pause ! reflect ! whilst there is yet time for 
 
 profitable reflection ! Your attached and very 
 
 anxious friend, 
 
 " SiDXEV Beauchamp/' 
 
 " A crafty letter, madam ; composed, no doubt, 
 by Augustus Temple, and posted like the others in 
 London by friends of his. I am not surprised 
 that you were deceived by it, though the last 
 paragraph but one would have opened my 
 eyes." 
 
 " You mean that relative to the heavy cheque 
 which it would be necessary to draw on the Earl, 
 Lord Sandon's father ?" 
 
 " Clearly so ; and, if I understand aright, 
 Augustus Temple perfectly well knew at the 
 time that the pretty sum of five thousand pounds, 
 bequeathed to Miss Norton some months pre- 
 viously, was lying in the Bank of England, and
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JA^IES P.YDER. 251 
 
 nothing was required but your written consent to 
 enable her to withdraw the same/' 
 
 "How could I suppose the villain knew it? 
 The money, in fact, was in the house, in my own 
 immediate possession, I had withdrawn it in 
 consequence of a ridiculous, but quite real, appre- 
 hension, that it might possibly be impounded by 
 my husband's creditors/' 
 
 "Your daughter and her confidante, Caroline 
 Dent, knew the five thousand pounds were actually 
 in the house. It followed, therefore, that the 
 groom, the housekeeper, and scoundrel-in-chief, 
 would be cognizant of that important fact/' 
 
 " True ; but the thought did not cross my mind 
 at the time. I was, it is folly to deny, absorbed — 
 carried off my feet — by being brought within prac- 
 tical reach, as it were, of the dazzling social 
 position offered to my dear Emily. I knew, too, 
 that she was sincerely attached to Temple ; that, 
 left to herself, she would have accepted the hand of 
 the fellow had he not possessed a shilling. A 
 more specious, plausible person I never spoke with. 
 We now come," continued Mrs, Norton, with.
 
 252 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAIVIES RYDER. 
 
 acrid petulance, " to the gist of the business in 
 relation to your detective services. A letter from 
 Temple to my daughter, taken charge of by Dent, 
 Emily was permitted to receive, and before a week 
 had passed they were married, with my pretendedly 
 reluctant consent. It is useless to attempt putting 
 a gloss on the matter. They were married at 
 Three Bridges parish church. Everybody said 
 Miss Norton had flung herself away upon an 
 adventurer, ^hilst I secretly exulted that she had 
 clutched a coronet. Immediately after the cere- 
 mony they left for London, and thence proceeded 
 to Paris." 
 
 "The bridegroom taking with him the five 
 thousand pounds ; which sum prevented the ne- 
 cessity of an immediate application to his father, 
 the Earl of HaiTowby ?" 
 
 " No ; four thousand only. I retained one 
 thousand, with my daughter's consent, for my own 
 use. To that her husband could make no 
 objection." 
 
 "Certainly not; a very unreasonable rascal if 
 he had. Pray go on, madam."
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 253 
 
 " About five weeks after the marriage my hus- 
 band was declared bankrupt; and but for the 
 thousand pounds we should have been without 
 available means. I wrote to my daughter, break- 
 ing the matter to her as gently as possible — the 
 letter being, I need hardly say, also intended to 
 be laid before Lord Sandon. The reply was a 
 thunderbolt ; which not only shattered into dust 
 my fine castles in the clouds, but for a number of 
 hours Hterally deprived me of reason. I was wild 
 — furious — could have torn myself to pieces for 
 having permitted the scoundrel to so egregiously 
 dupe, befool me ; and that agony of rage was, 
 let me confess, barbed by the fiery stings of shame 
 — of self-reproach. 
 
 ''Directly Emily's husband had run his eye 
 over my letter, he broke into furious passion, 
 swore he had been regularly swindled into marry- 
 ing a pauper, when he thought to wed a wealthy 
 heiress ; flung at Emily that he was no more Lord 
 Sandon than he was the Duke of Wellington ; and, 
 finally, left his bewildered, swooning wife under 
 the care of Dent, and with about one hundred
 
 254 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 pounds out of the four thousand in her possession. 
 She has not seen nor heard of him since. Caroline 
 Dent — I talk nonsense, Mrs. Summers (she was 
 married to the groom) — remained with her unfor- 
 tunate mistress ; Summers went off with his 
 master. The shock so completely prostrated my 
 betrayed, unhappy child, that she was physically 
 unable to return to England, passionately as she 
 longed, in that cruel abandonment, to see and 
 embrace her mother. I started for Paris the mo- 
 ment I was able to do so, brought Emily to 
 England, and we finally — my husband having 
 died — took up our abode in the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood of Arundel, Surrey ; our chief means of 
 support being three hundred pounds per annum 
 settled for life, by my husband, upon Mr. Charteris, 
 my father, at the time of my marriage, which 
 income will, of course, die with him. He enjoys, 
 however, excellent health for his age/' 
 
 "You lost no time, Fisher told me, in ascer- 
 taining that the real Lord Sandon knew nothing 
 about the fellow who had so audaciously duped 
 
 TOU."
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 255 
 
 *'I did; and that no such person existed as 
 Sidney Beauchamp, of the Middle Temple. Why 
 the impostor should have pitched upon the Har- 
 rowby family, in particular, I cannot imagine." 
 
 " Well, I have a sort of hazy notion of 
 what may have been his reason for doing that. 
 Your daughter had the reputation of being a rich 
 heiress. He wished to contract with her a really 
 valid marriage. Looking through the peerage, he 
 saw that the Harrowby family name was Ryder ; 
 and Ryder, be assured, madam^ is the fellow's real 
 name. At least, I suspect so ; giving the opinion 
 for what it may be worth.'' 
 
 " Yes ; I, of course, consulted the peerage, and 
 found that the family name was really Ryder. 
 That helped to confirm the delusion I was under." 
 
 " Of course it would ; Ryder alias Temple 
 knew that very welL Upon my word, a very 
 clever conspiracy — atrocious as clever. But cle- 
 verest players with such edge tools generally end 
 by cutting their own throats. Your daughter," I 
 went on to say, " has a son ; or, to speak with 
 precision, had a son by this marriage V*
 
 256 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 " Yes, Augustus — a fine, healthy boy — was bora 
 about eight months after Emily's desertion by her 
 husband. That fact I, acting under legal advice, 
 took care should be at any time capable of being 
 judicially verified/' 
 
 " You did wisely, madam. And now as to the 
 abduction of the child when, as I think the superin- 
 tendent informed me, it was three years old, or 
 thereabout ?" 
 
 " Rather more than three years old ; and it is 
 now about six since the boy was stolen away." 
 
 "Please to give me very exact particulars, 
 madam. The partial relation of the circumstances 
 by Fisher impresses me with a notion that it is in 
 that direction we must break cover if at all." 
 
 " Mrs. Summers, as I have said, remained with 
 her deserted mistress in Paris. She is of a kindly 
 disposition ; and finally decided upon casting in 
 her lot with us at Arundel, in preference to seek- 
 ing more lucrative service. She became much 
 attached to the child Augustus ; he with her. Of 
 Summers she had not heard since his flight from 
 Paris with Temple, or Eyder; but the poor
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 257 
 
 woman always cherished the idea that the fellow 
 would one day return to claim her for his wife. 
 
 " One summer evening," continued Mrs. Norton, 
 '' soon after we had taken tea, I, "vvith my father, 
 took a stroll through the Arundel Castle woods. 
 Suddenly a man crossed the opening to a glade not 
 very far ahead of us. I had but a momentary 
 glance at his face, but that caused my heart to beat 
 so tumultuously that I was near fainting. As 
 certainly as that I live and breathe, it was James 
 Summers. I made my father sit on the sward 
 whilst I hastened at my best speed after the 
 groom ; I could not overtake or see him. I be- 
 lieve he recognised me, and had therefore hurried 
 off. I returned home, and asked, immediately I 
 entered the door, for Caroline Summers, She was 
 gone out with the child, Augustus ; had been 
 absent a full hour. A vague fear seized me. 
 Search was immediately made for the woman and 
 boy ; it was fruitless. Neither has since been 
 heard of." 
 
 *' Did the woman leave anything of value 
 behind r 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 i58 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER: 
 
 " Her clothes only ; worth, perhaps, five or six 
 pounds." 
 
 •. ** You missed nothing of value — jewellery, for 
 example?** 
 
 • *' Not an article ; and my daughter's jewellery is 
 of considerable value. There was a diamond-ring 
 on her toilet-table which her father gave two 
 hundred guineas for. Summers knew its value, and 
 inight easily have appropriated it."^ 
 
 ' *'As I supposed: it was a question only of 
 stealing the child. And now, madam, if you 
 please, as to your having seen Augustus Temple, 
 otherwise James Ryder, in Saint James's-street, a 
 short time ago. But first, to finish about the little 
 boy ; are there any natural marks about him ?" 
 ■ "Yes. A strawberry strongly markexl on the 
 nape of the neck, and one mole just beneath it." 
 
 • " That may prove of gravest- consequence. Now 
 then, madam, as to the rencontre in St. James's- 
 street.'' 
 
 " Emily and I were in London, upon business 
 which I need not enter upon. When walking down 
 St. James's-street our eyes fell together upon two
 
 AUGTJSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES EYDER. 259 
 
 gentlemen seated inanopen barouche — a dark green 
 barouche — which was driving rapidly towards 
 Piccadilly. One of those gentlemen, dressed in 
 plain clothes, was my daughter's husband. We 
 are both certain of it. Emily fell fain tin 
 upon the pavement, and before I could raise 
 her, and look round, the barouche had disap- 
 peared." 
 
 " Was the gentleman seated with your 
 daughter s husband in plain clothes ? " 
 
 " 'No ; he wore a naval uniform, and was in full 
 dress. The coat had two epaulettes, and there 
 were honorary insignia of some kind fastened on 
 his breast. The barouche and general turn-out 
 indicated that the owner was a man of wealth and 
 distinction.^' 
 
 "The colour of the liveries. Did you mark 
 that?" 
 
 " I did not. There was no time." 
 
 "And you have not seen your daughter's 
 husband since ? '"' 
 
 " I am not sure that I have, though I have 
 remained in London expressly in the hope of doing 
 17—2
 
 260 AUGUSTUS TEilPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 SO. I thought I saw him in Oxford-street ; and it 
 was when running across the street, to make sure, 
 that I met with the accident from which I am 
 still suffering." 
 
 *' Have you anything else to add ? " 
 
 " No, except to say that my daughter has sent 
 me from Arundel a wonderfully striking likeness 
 of her husband. It was painted in Paris, and left 
 behind when he hurried from that city. She 
 fancies it may prove of service in the hands of the 
 detective police." 
 
 " I will tell you when I see it. Of very little 
 use, if any, madam. There is nothing peculiar or 
 decided in the certainly handsome face. Brown 
 hair, light moustaches, full whiskers, straight nose, 
 gray eyes. Such a description would apply to 
 thousands of men. It is a personal appearance, 
 too, that could be so easily changed if Mr. Kyder 
 or Temple should have reason to suspect that the 
 police were employed to trace him out. Simply 
 dyeing the brown hair and whiskers black would 
 render him unrecognisable except by those who 
 knew him intimately. As, however, the gentleman
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JA3IES EYDER. 261 
 
 with your daughter's husband was a naval officer, 
 and you say the likeness is a very striking one, I 
 will show it to the attendants of the military and 
 naval clubs first, next to the others, and ask if 
 they know such a person either as a member or a 
 visitor at the clubs. That failing, it may be as 
 well, the portrait being in my judgment a very 
 finely painted one, we might ask Messrs. 
 Colnaghi, for example, to permit it to be hung 
 conspicuously in the shop, where the likeness may 
 be recognised. One reflection which may not have 
 occurred to you makes me think, that in spite of 
 Mr. Ryder or Temple having been seen in a 
 brilliant barouche side by side with a naval officer 
 of high rank, he cannot have come into a large 
 fortune, as you hinted to Fisher would in your 
 opinion prove to be .the case. Were it so, he 
 would surely have sense, if not spirit or honesty, 
 enough to return the five thousand pounds he 
 obtained of you, your consent in writing being essen- 
 tial to its attainment, by a false pretence. He did 
 not merely tell a naked lie ; it was a lie with cor- 
 roborative circumstances — the forged letters and
 
 262 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES EYDER. 
 
 SO on. He must be aware that should Summers 
 the groom, Mrs. Summers, or Mrs. Berridge tum 
 round upon him, he would be in a very perilous 
 position. More than that, he, the groom, and 
 Mrs. Berridge might be indicted, should support- 
 ing testimony turn up, for a felonious conspiracy. 
 He never — supposing him to have, as you suppose, 
 ample means at his disposal — would remain 
 obnoxious to such a charge, even though it might 
 for technical reasons fall through. The money 
 "would have been returned to you." 
 
 "Why, then, was Mrs. Summers bribed — ca- 
 joled, at all events — by some powerful motive 
 to steal the boy ? You yourself believe that 
 Ryder, or Temple, through his agent, the groom, 
 prevailed upon the woman to commit that crime.'* 
 
 "That is true. Well, madam, I shall give this 
 matter my best consideration, and again commu- 
 nicate with you directly any good purpose is likely 
 to be answered by so doing." ^ 
 
 My " full notes" elicited an order to go roundly 
 into the affair. My next step, in obedience to
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDEE, 263 
 
 the order, was to visit the club-houses, taking the 
 portrait with me. 'Twas trouble thrown away. 
 No one had the slightest recollection of such a 
 gentleman, and as a last resource I, through a 
 third highly respectable party, obtained leave to 
 hang the portrait conspicuously in Messrs. Colnaghi's 
 shop. The pretence was that the much- distressed 
 relatives of the original doubtfully hoped — other 
 modes of inquiry having failed — to discover his 
 whereabout by that bizarre experiment. 
 
 This shallow trap limed, I was considering what 
 further might be done, when a note reached me 
 through the post from Mrs, Norton, who had 
 returned to Arundel, requesting to see me there 
 immediately, a very important communication 
 having been forwarded to her by Mr. James Ryder^ 
 through Messrs. Barstdwe, the solicitors, of Fur- 
 nival's-inn. I obeyed the summons without delay, 
 and was both surprised and amused by Messrs. 
 Barstowe's letter. Those gentlemen had received 
 two thousand pounds, the moiety of a sum of four 
 thousand, which James Ryder, Esquire, sometimes 
 calling himself Augustus Temple, who at on6
 
 264) AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 time honestly believed that he had contracted a 
 legal marriage with Emily Chantrey Norton, had 
 received, under a misapprehension, from that 
 lady's mother. The two thousand pounds would be 
 handed over to Mrs. Norton at Messrs. Barstowe's 
 office on any day she might please to name, a 
 precedent condition being that she signed a certain 
 document, a copy of which would be sent for 
 inspection and approval to any solicitor that lady 
 would name. Messrs. Barstowe were instructed to 
 add that Mr. James Kyder, who had lately visited 
 England for a short time, had left for Spain, in 
 which country he had settled for life, having been 
 informed that Mrs. Norton, for whom he felt un- 
 feigned respect, had been so ill-advised as to 
 set detective officers on his track. To save her 
 further trouble and expense, he frankly admitted 
 that it was by his order the boy Augustus, his 
 son, had been brought away from Arundel, and 
 that he was now residing, and would continue to 
 reside, \vith his father. Mr. James Ryder would, 
 moreover, covenant to allow Emily Chantrey 
 Norton one hundred and fifty pounds per annum
 
 AUGUSTUS TKMPLE alias JAMES RYDEK. 265 
 
 for life, and as soon as possible — certainly within 
 three years — to reimburse the other half of the 
 four thousand pounds received of [Mrs. Norton by 
 mistake ; but this only upon condition of a solemn 
 obligation being subscribed that all further scandal, 
 talk, allusion to the alleged marriage, should cease 
 at once and for ever. That stipulation fairly 
 carried out, there would be no objection to Ellen 
 Chantrey Norton seeing her son under proper 
 regulations. 
 
 " Well," said the anxious eyes of Mrs. Norton, 
 eagerly perusing mine, as I finished and unfolded 
 the letter, "what think you ?" 
 
 " The man is a shallow fool, as well as a consum- 
 mate villain !" said I. " He could scarcely have 
 composed the letter signed ' Sidney Beauchamp ; ' 
 or, if so, he has lost all skill in adroit lying. 
 James Ryder is in England, and frightened out of 
 what poor wit he ever possessed." 
 
 *' Frightened ! " said a soft, silver voice close 
 beside me — "frightened! What should frighten 
 Mr. Byder?" 
 
 I turned sharply round, and knew that the
 
 266 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER, 
 
 speaker was Mrs. Ryder, -who had just before 
 entered the room. A lovelier face than hers I 
 bad never seen. 
 
 " Well, madam/' said I, blunderingly, " he 
 ought not to be frightened by the near prospect; 
 of finding himself compelled to acknowledge that 
 the lady before me is his wife, to all legal intents 
 and purposes, especially as he seems to have come 
 into possession of a competent estate. That he 
 is terribly frightened is, however, manifest upon 
 the face of the lawyer's letter. Depend upon 
 it, madam," said I, directly addressing MrsL 
 Norton, " that Mr. James Ryder is shuffling the 
 cards for such another devil's game as he played 
 at Three Bridges, and for probably a much 
 higher prize — I can only mean the pecuniary 
 portion of the prize, of course — and dreads 
 that a just cause and impediment will baffle 
 him of his prey. This is the only interpretation 
 I can put upon the proposition he has 
 made." 
 
 *'I agree with you,'" said Mrs. Norton; ''and I 
 place the affair in your hands, to act as you deem
 
 AUGUSTUS TKMPLE alias JAl^IES RYDER. 267 
 
 best, with entire confidence. What say you, 
 Emily?" 
 
 The betrayed and, I could not doubt, still 
 loving young wife acquiesced with a sigh ; and I 
 left, to enter upon the campaign with cheerful con- 
 fidence. 
 
 At first I thought of acting in concert with an 
 attorney ; but, upon riper reflection, I deter- 
 mined not to do so. I have no trust in divided 
 counsels. Besides, I knew where to occasionally 
 drop upon a knowing clerk in Messrs. Barstowe's 
 office. I should find the ends of the knot if there 
 were one to untie. 
 
 I saw Mr. Barstowe, senior ; there was no reserve 
 or dissimulation in the conversation of that highly 
 respectable gentleman. He was quite as frank as 
 his duty permitted him to be. I was shown the 
 document Mrs. Norton would be required to sign 
 before she could receive the two thousand pounds. 
 Supposing the attorney's client, Mr. James Ryder, 
 had correctly stated the case, instead of falsifying 
 it, there was nothing Mrs. Norton could have 
 reasonably objected to sign.
 
 268 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAilES EYDEPw 
 
 " Mr. James Ryder instructed you personally, I 
 presume ?" said I. 
 
 " You wrongly presume. I have never seen 
 Mr. James Ryder, who, as our letter states, has 
 left for Spain. We are instructed by Sir James 
 Ryder, Baronet — Mr. James Ryder's cousin. The 
 Baronet is much interested for the cousin; they 
 were, I believe, schoolfellows together. Sir 
 James" — added Mr. Barstowe, who seemed to be 
 in an unusually garrulous mood — " Sir James has 
 only lately, and unexpectedly, succeeded to the 
 title and estate. It was necessary that three or 
 four lives, each as good as his own in the esti- 
 mation cf an actuar}^ should lapse, and without 
 lawful issue, too, before his turn came. The 
 estate attached to the baronetcy," added Mr. 
 Barstowe, " is not so very large — not more at the 
 utmost than three thousand a year. But Fortune's 
 favours, like her frowns, seldom come single. He 
 is about to marry a very wealthy widow. But for 
 that, Sir James would hardly, I think, have bound 
 himself, as he has done, to furnish the four thou- 
 sand pounds to be returned to Mrs. Norton ; and
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 26^ 
 
 have guaranteed the one hundred and fifty pounds 
 life annuity to Emily Chantrey Norton. There 
 are not many such generous cousins in the 
 world." 
 
 *'Very few indeed. / never met with one. 
 Does the baronet at all resemble his cousin, Mr. 
 James Ryder, whose portrait this is ?" said I, 
 suddenly. 
 
 Mr. Barstowe looked keenly at the portrait for 
 two or three minutes, and then said — " Yes, there 
 is a remarkable likeness — a family likeness — a 
 very striking family likeness between those features 
 and those of Sir James Ryder. Only the baronet's 
 hair, whiskers, moustache are jet black, and these 
 are a lightish brown." 
 
 " Have you, may I ask, long known Sir James 
 Ryder?" 
 
 " Personally, about ten days only. He was 
 introduced to us by a very old, a much respected 
 client. Would Mrs. Norton wish, for any reason — 
 a woman's reason, if she has no better one — to see 
 the baronet? You seem to be edging in that 
 direction. I do not suppose Sir James would have
 
 270 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 the slightest objection ; but the interview would, I 
 am pretty sure, be fruitless." 
 
 " Mrs. Norton may have her own opinion, an 
 erroneous one possibly, as to that ; but I am quite 
 sure she would be glad to see Sir James. She 
 might wish her daughter to stand better in the 
 baronet's opinion than the version of tbe marriage 
 given by his cousin may have placed her." 
 
 " Be it so. I will write to Sir James this 
 evening, requesting him to state if he has any 
 objection to see Mrs, Norton, wlio, I suppose, 
 would be accompanied by yourself — partly as 
 amicus curice — partly as a detective officer. I 
 am sure there ca,n be no objection. If you wiU 
 call the day after to-morrow, early, I will show you 
 the baronet's answer." 
 
 I also wrote, by the same post, to report pro- 
 gress — immense progi'ess, in my estimation — to 
 Mrs. Norton ; and requesting her to be in readiness 
 to come to London at the briefest notice. Not 
 that I believed Sir James Ryder would see Mrs. 
 Norton. My conviction was formed unalterably. 
 Sir James was James Ryder alias Augustus Tem-
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 271 
 
 pie, — who was about to espouse a rich widow, — - 
 would then sell the estate he had to his great 
 surprise inherited, — and, with the proceeds thereof, 
 and the widow and her wealth, betake himself in 
 reality to Spain, or other continental refuge from 
 the pains and penalties of British law. Fire would 
 not have burned that conviction out of me. 
 • Judge then of my surprise when, upon keeping 
 m)'' appointment at Furnival's Inn, Mr. Barstowe 
 informed me that Sir James B3^der would be 
 happy to see Mrs. Norton and myself, at any time 
 suitable to the lady's convenience, so that it might 
 be within four days, at his temporary residence, 
 Hampstead. Any explanation he could give would 
 be cheerfully rendered ; but the terms — money 
 terms — proposed could not be varied. 
 
 This was really a poser. The giants I was about 
 to slay were of my own creation. That rascally 
 Ryder alias Temple, who robbed his wife of four 
 thousand pounds, and stole the child from Arundel, 
 was solely prompted by conscience and a desire to 
 do right, as far as pecuniary compensation, to the 
 utmo.-.ti stretch of his ability, could repair a cruel
 
 272 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 wroDg. Strange, passing strange, if true. I should 
 wait, without finally deciding, till the last scene of 
 the play was played out. 
 
 The day and hour for the interview were ap- 
 pointed ; but, before accompanying Mrs. Norton 
 to Maida Lodge, I thought it as well to seek out 
 Edward Colville, Mr. Barstowe's knowing clerk. 
 He was a decent sort of chap, as far as I knew, — 
 keen as the north wind, but bibulous, which, of 
 course, diminished his chance of reaching the top 
 of his profession. 
 
 " If that ain't Sir James Ryder," said he, " the 
 cousinly-likeness must be wonderfully strong, as 
 the governor remarked to you, in the Ryder family. 
 Old Barstowe is going with you, is he, eh? I 
 should like to know the upshot," he added, after a 
 thoughtful pause, and returning me the portrait. 
 " I can make an excuse for leaving the office, and, 
 after leaving Sir James, you and the lady will find 
 me at the ' Star and Garter/ not above two hundred 
 yards from Maida Lodge; but, of course, you 
 know the house. I should like to have a hand 
 in this game. It strikes me that I shall, about
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 273 
 noon to-morrow, hear of something to my ad- 
 
 vantage. 
 
 Mr. Barstowe, Jklrs. Norton, and myself left Fur- 
 nival's Inn, in a cab, at about eleven. 
 
 " Sir James," said the solicitor, "will speak with 
 you two alone. In the first place, at all events, 
 he will confer privately with me : he wishes, 
 no doubt, to ask some legal questions. After your 
 interview is over, I shall see him again, formalize 
 whatever modification of the proposed arrangement 
 may have been agreed to, and then, I hope, the 
 matter will terminate." 
 
 Nothing could, it seemed, be fairer ; and I felt 
 a growing conviction that Mrs. Norton and her 
 daughter could not do a more worldly-wise thing 
 than close at once with the baronet, upon the best 
 terms that could be wrung from him. 
 
 Arrived at Maida Lodge, we were ushered into 
 a handsomely-furnished drawing-room ; and pre- 
 sently Mr. Barstowe was requested to speak with 
 Sir James in the Hbrary. The lawyer was not 
 gone more than ten minutes. " Sir James wiU see 
 
 VOL. L 18
 
 274 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 you at once. Let me show you the door. I am 
 afraid," he added, " that you will not have gained 
 anything, madam, by insisting upon this interview. 
 There is, moreover, pressing need of dispatch. The 
 baronet is to be married the day after to-morrow, 
 and will leave England for two or three years, 
 perhaps longer, immediately.'* 
 
 Mr. Barstowe tapped at the library door, and 
 the baronet replied, " Come in." " The interview 
 is to be piivate, as I told you," said the lawyer, 
 retiring ; "but I shall see you all three pre- 
 sently." 
 
 A tall, slender gentleman was sitting at a large 
 centre table covered -with papers and books, and 
 with his back towards us, reading a newspaper* 
 He rose with some deliberation, turned round, and 
 a half-glance convinced me that Sir James was not 
 our James Ryder. I was much abashed, and 
 flushed hot as fire. ]\Irs. Norton was equally 
 daunted, as one may say; and I have no doubt 
 that her estimate of my detective capacity fell 
 instantly to zero. 
 
 The baronet bowed coldlv to Mrs. Norton, and
 
 requested her to be seated ; of my presence he 
 appeared to be entirely unconscious. 
 
 Mrs. Norton ^Yas at a loss to begin. Sir James 
 helped her out. 
 
 " I was desirous, madam, of seeing you without 
 the presence of lawyers. I am quite aware of all 
 the circumstances attending the unhappy acquaint- 
 ance with your family at Three Bridges ; but, 
 though I am very sensible of my impulsive cousin's 
 faults — vices, if you will — one does not vnsh. them 
 to be blazoned to the world more than is necessary. 
 "With respect to other matters, I consent that the 
 life-annuity to Miss Norton " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Sir James Ryder," inter- 
 rupted the mother, with kindling heat ; " there is 
 no Miss Norton. My daughter is your cousin's 
 lawful wife." 
 
 " I have no ^vish, madam, to say anything that 
 may hurt your feelings. At all events, if he was her 
 husband, James Norton is dead to her for ever. He 
 has settled — will, no question, marry — in SjDain, 
 and must take the consequences. I think, madam," 
 added the baronet, "there is nothing more to say. 
 IS— 2
 
 276 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER 
 
 Mr. Barstowe will take your final decision. The 
 deed has, you are aware, been already executed by 
 me. A supplementary document I will also sub- 
 scribe, making the annuity two hundred pounds 
 per annum. That, madam, is my last word." 
 
 Mr. Barstowe agreed to have the necessary deeds 
 ready (and the two thousand pounds) on the morrow, 
 at his office ; and I, with Mrs. Norton, both very 
 sulky and very sour, took our way to the Star 
 and Garter. Edward Colville was awaiting us. 
 He listened with glittering eyes to our account of 
 the interview, and smiled radiantly when I indig- 
 nantly asked him how he could have had the folly 
 or stupidity to say there was a strong family like- 
 ness between the hook-nose baronet and the features 
 of the portrait I had shown him. 
 
 " Hook-nose, eh ! — swarthy [complexion ! A tall, 
 lathy-like fellow, that has been run up in a hurry! 
 I don't suppose your Sir James nor the other 
 Jam6s knows anything about the portrait ; or, at 
 all events, have forgotten that such a thing exists. 
 Well :" added the knowino: clerk, with one of his
 
 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 277 
 
 most comprehensive winks, " it will be all on the 
 square presently, never fear. I see a little cherub 
 that sees their little game. We must go back to 
 Maida Lodge ; not yet, however — not till the 
 shades of evening fall around us ; old Barstowe 
 may not be gone else, and my back-play requires his 
 absence. Never fear that the baronet will be gone 
 out. He has not till quite dark lately, and then 
 always in a close carriage, to visit the rich widow 
 in St. John's-wood — of course, the rich widow 
 whom the honourable baronet is to lead to the 
 hymeneal altar the day after to-morrow ! Ho, ho I 
 We have plenty of time to crack a bottle of wine. 
 Of course," added he, addressing Mrs. Norton, " I 
 look for reward — money reward — in proportion to 
 the service I shall render you and your daughter. 
 That will do, madam.- I can tell whose word I 
 can take in preference to thousands of other 
 people's bonds." 
 
 "I have the entree of Maida Lodge," said Col- 
 ville, " especially when — as now — I carry a roll of 
 law-papers. I knock ; directly the door is opened,
 
 278 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES ETDER. 
 
 you follow me smartly in. Sir James Ryder is, I 
 know, in the library ; he is waiting there for me." 
 
 " Sir James Byder/' said Colville, addressing a 
 gentleman standing with his face to the fire, " I 
 have brought the papers from Mr. Barstowe's 
 office " 
 
 He was interrupted by a loud, hysterical scream 
 from Mrs. Norton, with which mingled a terrible 
 malediction from the suddenly ashen lips of the 
 * baronet. Our James Ryder this time, and no 
 mistake, spite of his dyed hair and whiskers. I 
 saw it all at a glance. 
 
 *' Augustus Temple otherwise James Ryder, my 
 daughter's husband!" exclaimed Mrs. Norton. 
 « That is he !" 
 
 " Which Ae," said Colville, " is, / assure you, the 
 real Simon Pure ; the genuine Sir James. The 
 other fellow's name is Turuley. I dare say he is to 
 be found, if you want him, by stepping through 
 the door opposite, into the next room." 
 
 The baronet glared like a tiger at bay ; and, 
 with an impulse of insanity, made as if to bolt out 
 of the room and escape. '*No, you don't, Sir
 
 AUGUSTUS TEilPLE alias JAilES RYDER. 279 
 
 James," said I, seizing him. " None of that non- 
 sense, if you please." 
 
 Ten minutes, more or less, of bewilderment, 
 silent consternation, passed, and then we all began 
 to realize the situation. 
 
 Colville was the first to speak. 
 
 " It is decidedly a case for transaction — compen- 
 sation. Hubbub, exposure v>-i\\ injure all parties. 
 Suppose we send for Mr. Barstowe.'' 
 
 The proposition was sullenly agreed to by the 
 baronet ; and before ten o'clock everything was 
 settled. Sir James acknowledged Emily Chantrey 
 Norton to be his lawful wife ; and by formal deed, 
 signed 23a'/'i passu, with a deed of separation, set- 
 tled upon Lady Ryder an annuity of eight hundred 
 per annum. The four- thousand pounds were also 
 to be returned. As to the boy Augustus, the 
 mother might have him, and welcome. He had 
 been stolen, as a private speculation, by Summers 
 himself — as a means of putting the screw on at 
 pleasure, should Mr. James Ryder, lately Sir James 
 Ryder, be not sufficiently liberal with his cash. He
 
 280 AUGUSTUS TEMPLE alias JAMES RYDER. 
 
 passed as the nephew of Mr. and Mrs. Summers, and 
 had been placed as a boarder at the High School, 
 Everton, near Liverpool. Mr. and Mrs. Summers 
 themselves kept a large tavern in the great mari- 
 time metropolis of the North of England. 
 
 A few days afterwards, Sir James Ryder left the 
 country, and, I suppose, sojourns permanently on 
 the continent. 
 
 It was further stipulated, I had almost forgotten 
 to state, and secured by deed of entail, that the 
 boy (son) should at his father's death succeed to 
 the estate, as of course he would to the baronetage. 
 
 9
 
 281 
 
 THE lUEDEE OF AiN'TO^'Y LOUYEL, 1794. 
 
 I MET an old acquaintance of mine, whom I had 
 lost sight of for many years, in the High-street, 
 Camden-town, one spring Sunday evening; but so 
 changed in all respects, that I had some difficulty 
 to persuade myself that it could be really Jack 
 Pendrell who was so heartily shaking hands with 
 and declaring he was so delighted to see me. 
 When I knew Pendrell, he was a pale, moonish, 
 spouting youth — imbued with a strongly-expressed 
 preference for perishing in the flood rather than 
 rot upon the bank ; and especially desirous to 
 achieve the tinsel triumphs of the actor. Having, 
 however, stumbled hopelessly in his first amateur 
 step on the stage, he was forced by inexorable destiny 
 to subside into a country grocer's apprentice. " My 
 life/' I remembered him to have exclaimed, just 
 as he was about to scale the roof of the Readinjr
 
 282 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 coach — *• My life, Clarke, is blighted for ever. 
 But, thank God, the struggle can't last long. I 
 feel that The sword will soon cut through the 
 scabbard.'' 
 
 And now, good heavens ! this Byronic young 
 gentleman was the stout, podgy father of seven 
 children in actual presence, with more possibly at 
 home. One, the youngest, he sustained on his left 
 arm ; two, seated in a smart child's-carriage, he 
 tugged along by the long handle with his right ; 
 the remaining four, with their mamma — a sharp, 
 sloe-eyed, little woman — continuing and concluding 
 the procession ! The weather was warm ; and 
 the once for ever blighted being — though per- 
 spiring profusely, and somewhat blown with his 
 work — appeared to be in excellent health. 
 
 *' Maria, love," said Pendrell, with a deprecatory, 
 timid smile, addressing his by much better half, — 
 *' Maria, love, Mr. Clarke, the famous detective- 
 officer we read of in the newspapers, and a very old 
 friend of mine." 
 
 ''Maria, love" — who at first evidently resented the 
 halt which I had caused — relaxed immediately that
 
 THE MURDEE OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 283 
 
 the words "detective-officer" struck her ear, and 
 said she was glad to make the acquaintance of any 
 of her husband s friends. To such a pitch did she 
 cany this graciousness, that upon reaching the side- 
 door of the house, upon the front of which shone the 
 words " John Pendrell, Grocer and General Pur- 
 veyor," in all the glory of giant gilt letters, and 
 I excused myself from accepting her invitation — 
 "Pray come in, Mr. Clarke," — she positively acceded 
 to her husband's wish to be allowed to go and 
 smoke a pipe with his old acquaintance, merely 
 restricting his tether to the extent of one hour. 
 
 I afterwards knew that the reason why I had 
 found such immediate favour in the lady's eyes was 
 that, having lost five silver table-spoons when con- 
 fined with the baby actually in arms, about twelve 
 months previously, it suddenly occurred to her, 
 upon hearing my name and vocation mentioned, 
 that I might be able to find out whether it was the 
 servant-of-all-work for the time being or the 
 monthly nurse who stole them — a query which 
 greatly disturbed her peace of mind, forasmuch 
 that the services of the monthly nurse would be
 
 284 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 again required before many days had passed. I 
 may here remark that I was not fortunate enough 
 to solve the mystery of the spoons, and that the 
 monthly nurse resumed her functions in due time. 
 
 "We proceeded to a respectable tavern in the 
 neighbourhood ; and materials having been set 
 before us, our pipes lit, I said : — " Matrimony 
 agrees with you, PendrelL You are twice the man, 
 in circumference at all events, that you were when 
 I last saw you ! And I conclude, from what T saw 
 just now, that your brain is swept clear of all 
 romantic rubbish." 
 
 " Yes, Clarke ; yes. Matrimony appears to be 
 the natural state of life to which it pleases God, for 
 wise purposes (we are bound to believe His ways 
 to be inscrutable and past finding out), to call us. 
 Most of us come to it in time, or it comes to us — 
 which is much the same thing. And, depend upon 
 it, there is nothing knocks the nonsense out of a 
 man like a wife and seven small children ! nothing. 
 Your health ; and happy to see you once more.'' 
 
 "We smoked for some minutes in silence — he, I 
 could not fail to see, with an introspective doubtful
 
 THE MTJRDEE OF ANTONY LOUYEL. 285 
 
 glance at a disagreeable thought which had suddenly 
 arisen in his mind. "My fat friend's affairs, I 
 should be afraid, are embarrassed," said I to my- 
 self, "were it not that he is pretty nearly two 
 yards in girtK" 
 
 " I have been several times," he presently said, 
 " about to hunt you up, and consult you upon a 
 matter which hes in your professional way of life ; 
 but Mrs. Pendrell being an eccentric person — she is 
 very eccentric, Clarke, — won't keep a pony-chaise 
 for the children, though we can well afford it — and 
 I did not know how she might take a call from 
 you, Now, however, that she has herself invited 
 you to take a cup of tea now and then, and a hand 
 at whist — Maria plays whist herself — first, to keep 
 
 in with the old, diabolical villain, who . Here, 
 
 waiter; the same as before. It makes me hot to 
 think about it" 
 
 " Who is the diabolical old villain you are speak- 
 ing of r 
 
 " The name of the diabolical old villain is Manzel; 
 Theophile, or Theophilus Manzel; his place of 
 birth, somewhere in France ; his means of life,
 
 286 THE MUKDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 cribbed from mine, and be d — d to him ; and he 
 has, in my private opinion, two or three murders, 
 at least, upon his thundering old head." 
 
 " Two or three murders ! What nonsense are 
 you talking about T 
 
 " No nonsense at all. I perhaps exaggerate the 
 Tiumber of ManzeFs crimes ; but if he hasnothuman 
 blood upon his spotted soul, blood long since shed, 
 but which will not sink into the earth, and still 
 cries to Heaven for vengeance, I am a besotted 
 idiot. In fact, Clarke, there is a skeleton in our 
 house — as they say there is in most others — which 
 I should be glad t o see laid in the Red Sea, or, a 
 more effective riddance, swinging from a gibbet. 
 Come, I am going to open my mind to you,'^ he 
 added, with kind of acrid seriousness ; " it is time I 
 should to some one. Let us go into the next 
 room ; we can there talk without danger of being 
 overheard. I'll not be stifled with this dreadful 
 mystery any longer, whatever be the consequence." 
 
 The change of manner, of aspect, in Pendrell 
 surprised me a good deal. He had become all at 
 once a serious, self-respecting man of business
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 287 
 
 and the world. I should have known, without 
 reasoning upon it, for I had seen hundreds of such 
 instances, that a man may be a very tame snake to 
 his wife, and a confoundedly bristly person for 
 others to meddle with. Such men love home-peace, 
 and will submit almost to anything for a quiet life ; 
 a fact which their loving spouses are very quick to 
 discover, and to tune their tongues accordingly. 
 
 *^ I shall be unreserved with you, Clarke — (I did 
 not much like his " Clarking" me in such bump- 
 tious, patronising fashion, but I let that quietly 
 pass) — I shall be unreserved with you, Clarke, 
 really believing as I do that serious — nay, solemn — 
 eventualities are involved. To begin with, I have 
 an inveterate dislike of Theophilus Manzel, — a 
 bitter, gnawing dislike. No man loves, esteems his 
 wife in a mild, been-married -ten -years sort of way, 
 more than I do mine. She is an excellent partner. 
 It is likely enough that had I not married her I 
 should have gone through the bankruptcy court 
 twice at least before now. Maria is also a very 
 judicious mother, and I love our children. Of 
 course, she has her ways and whims ; but if two
 
 288 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 ride one horse, both can't ride in front, and better 
 for the man to let his wife hold the bridle than to 
 be always fighting and scratching for it That, at 
 least, is my opinion, and I suppose that of all 
 sensible men. Well, Clarke, it's just because I 
 should never have married Maria but for Manzel 
 that I hate the fellow. At least, that was the 
 original cause of my hatred." 
 
 "I have no skill for the interpretation of 
 riddles/' 
 
 "There will be no skill required when you hear 
 how the marriage was brought about. A man may 
 relish a delicate, substantial dinner, but would not 
 particularly like being kicked along Cheapside 
 into the London Tavern to partake of it." 
 
 "That would certainly bean objectionable grace 
 before meat." 
 
 "Decidedly so. This, then, was how that 
 ceremonial catastrophe was brought about. You 
 know very well that when I started for Reading 
 I was ^a blighted being.' Thanks to a pretty free 
 use of brandy-and-water and cigars, I revived 
 sooner than could have been expected. I scrambled
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 289 
 
 through my apprenticeship pretty well, and returned 
 to London in high feather just one week before my 
 father's name appeared in the Gazette. My mother 
 had been dead between two and three years. Her 
 husband followed before the formalities of bank- 
 ruptcy were completed, and I was left to my own 
 resources. Ample resources truly. About five pounds 
 in cash, two suits of clothes — both the worse for 
 wear — and not the slightest love of work ; not, at 
 all events, for its own sake. It was necessary, how- 
 ever, to seek it out; so I left Chelsea to take 
 lodgings in business London. Chancing to stroll 
 along John-street, Fitzroy- square, I. met my destiny 
 at No. 6, in one of the windows of which rather 
 dingy domicile a paper informed passers-by that 
 * A room was to be let within for a single man.^ I 
 knocked ; the door was opened by Maria Kent, now 
 and for over ten years past Mrs. Pendrell. Terms, 
 three shillings per week for the parlour next the 
 sky, with a turn-up bedstead in it. I agreed, and 
 slept at No. 6 that same night. The house was 
 tolerably well-furnished, and let out in lodgings by 
 M. Manzel and his wife — the wife being Maria 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 THE MURDER OF ANTOXT LOUVEL. 
 Kent's mother. I rather took a fancy to Maria — 
 nothing at all serious, but a fancy ; liked to play a 
 game of cribbage with her of an evening after I 
 came home tired, dispirited with vainly seeking for 
 employment. The grim ogress — Madam Manzel, 
 as she called herself, — frowned severely at our 
 little famiharities ; and as I felt a perfect horror of 
 the stepfather (one of the most gaunt, ghostlike 
 spectres that ever in the flesh — more correctly, sharp 
 bones, tightly covered with cadaverous-coloured 
 parchment — haunted a human habitation), scarcely 
 less for his wife, and though I felt no very great 
 interest in Maria, I more than once half resolved 
 upon giving notice to quit. I did not, however ; 
 and, by-and-bye, my five pounds being expended, 
 or close upon it, with an arrear of a fortnight's 
 rent upon my fainting shoulders, I could not do so. 
 My trunk, a large, well-filled one, all reckoned, 
 would have been kept back ; and there were many 
 things therein which I gloomily foresaw would soon 
 be in charge of one of the gentlemen who flourish 
 under the shadow of three golden balls. Another 
 week passed, I was still more deeply in debt, and
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 291 
 
 things looked very black indeed, when the sky- 
 changed in a most sudden, surprising manner. You 
 must know that Manzel had then, as he has now, a 
 sort of occult reputation for being a man of hoarded 
 substance ; who, if so minded, could shell out no 
 end of money. I believed it then doubtfully, 
 I have no doubt now but it's devil's wealth. 
 Enough of that, I must put on the steam, or 
 I shall never bring this business to a wind-up. 
 'Mr. Pendrell,' said Maria, — when I returned home, 
 after a more than usually wearisome day of disap- 
 pointment — and she looking fresh as a rose, merry 
 as a lark, * Mr. Pendrell, mamma has given me 
 something for you.' 'The rent-bill,' groaned I. 
 ' Oh no ; nothing of the sort : two tickets for 
 the Princesses theatre; and we might, if you like, — 
 but I suppose you won't, — ^go together.' I wonder 
 my hair, limp as it must have been with perspira- 
 tion and the hot weather, didn't stand on end. 
 * Come,' added Maria, * get ready at once. / can 
 pay for the cab — there and home V That was the 
 beginning. of it; the end was, that we were mar- 
 ried by licence at St. John's Church — old Grim- 
 
 19—2
 
 292 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 Grubber forking out the expenses with the libe- 
 rality of a prince. We were to live at 'No. 6 till 
 Manzel could find an eligible opportunity to set 
 me up in business, in the grocery line. There was 
 a first-rate wedding-breakfast ; after which we set 
 off for Margate, on our wedding trip. A very 
 pleasant wedding trip it was. Only if I had 
 known — ^but, as the copybook says, if ignorance is 
 bliss, it is wise to let well alone. Before I go on, 
 I beg most emphatically to state that I am quite 
 sure Maria — my wife — dealt with me in simple 
 good faith ; with complete ingenuousness. At all 
 events, that is my opinion, and I don't want to be 
 argued out of it. The very day after our return,'* 
 continued Pendrell, " old Death's-head, looking 
 grimmer and ghastlier than ever; and with a 
 goblin-grin upon his face, comes into the room 
 where Maria and I were breakfasting, with a Time& 
 newspaper in his hand. He took the Times daily, 
 and spelt it through and through. ^ Here,' said he, 
 * my children, is a curious advertisement : — " If 
 John Pendrell, son of deceased James Pendrell, of 
 Henry-street, Chelsea, will call or otherwise com-
 
 THE MUEDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 293 
 
 municate with Messrs. Horniman, of Xew-square, 
 Lincoln's Inn, he will hear of something greatly to 
 his advantage/' ' ' Gracious goodness ! what can 
 that be, I wonder ? Come, John I* says Maria, jump- 
 ing up, * let's go at once !' ' How did it happen, 
 John' — (I had been John with the old villain and his 
 wizened wife since the evening Maria and went to 
 the Princess's Theatre) — ' how did it happen, John,' 
 said Grim-Grubber, with suave serenity of tone, 
 ' that you did not leave or send your address to 
 the house at Chelsea or to the post-office there? 
 Delay in communicating important imformation to 
 parties interested may be very prejudicial' If I 
 had spoken the truth, I should have answered that 
 I did not wish my relatives to know that I lived in 
 a garret, No. 6, John-street, Fitzroy-square ; but 
 I merely said it had not occurred to me to do so. 
 ' Now, John, I am ready,' said Maria. ' You run 
 and fetch a cab directly. I'll copy the address. 
 So away we went. The ' something greatly to my 
 advantage' was two thousand five hundred pounds — 
 left me by a maternal uncle, who had departed 
 this hfe about a mouth previously — to be paid
 
 294 THE MURBEE OF ANTONY LOTJVEI* 
 
 forthwith, free of legacy duty. Two thousand five 
 hundred pounds ! Didn^t my heart leap to my 
 mouth ? It was the Indies ! And I won't say 
 that it did not, at the moment, occur to me that 
 I need not have been in such a hurry to enter into 
 the holy estate of matrimony. As soon as Maria 
 and I,"" continued Pendrell, after a good gulp of 
 brandy-and-water — required, it seemed, to lighten 
 a depressing reflection — " as soon as Maria and I 
 could come down from the clouds, we of course 
 talked little else than as to how the wonderful 
 ^windfall which had dropped into our mouths was 
 to be invested. I being a fairly-educated person, 
 fond of reading, and having a soul above grocery — 
 more fool I — ^thought of setting up in the publish- 
 ing Hne. This, however, as soon as Maria could 
 comprehend what 'publishing' meant, met with a 
 contemptuous negative. Finally, four freehold 
 houses in Camden Town were purchased for about 
 eleven hundred pounds, and settled, to guard 
 against possible failure in business, upon my wife. 
 With the remainder, the grocery business in the 
 High-street, lease of premises, stock in trade, &c..
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 295 
 
 were purchased ; and a very lucky speculation it 
 has proved. This brings me again to old Manzel. 
 I employed Messrs. Horniman to transact the ne- 
 cessary legal business, with respect to the purchase 
 of the freehold houses, and the settlement of ^he 
 same upon Maria In consequence, a clerk of theirs 
 came frequently to No. 6, and upon one occasion 
 saw Manzel, inquired of one of the lodgers who he 
 was, and heard, to his great surprise, that he was 
 Mrs. John Pendrell s stepfather. I was not within 
 at the time, and he called again a few hours after- 
 wards. After business was transacted, the clerk ^ 
 said, * I don't know whether I ought to mention it, 
 but I have seen old M. Manzel twice before at our 
 oflace.' ' Indeed r said I, 'when?' 'About a 
 fortnight — I have been looking at the office diary 
 — about a fortnight before you yourself came to 
 inquire about the advertisement, setting forth that 
 you would, by calling upon Messrs. Horniman, 
 hear of something to your advantage. That was 
 M. Manzel's errand. He had seen the advertise- 
 ment, thought he might be able to find you, and 
 wished to know the particulars. He was informed^
 
 296 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 went away, and two days afterwards returned 
 to say he had failed to trace you out — believed, 
 indeed, that he was mistaken in the person.' " 
 
 "An impertinent busybody _ must the clerk 
 have been. Only mischief and heartburning could 
 be the result of such an uncalled-for communica- 
 tion." o 
 
 " I don't care about that ! What I did care 
 about — that which enraged me beyond bounds 
 was, that I had been so treacherously dealt with — 
 bamboozled — swindled — taken in and done for — 
 by the hoary miscreant !" 
 
 " Still, as your marriage is a very happy one " 
 
 "No matter for that," savagely snapped Pen- 
 drell. "However, what was done could not be 
 undone ; and, as before said, I now, as regards the 
 marriage itself, am quite contented. In fact, it is as 
 much for my family's sake as my own that I am 
 now taking you into my confidence. From the 
 hour the clerk spoke with me," continued Pendrell, 
 " I hated Manzel and his wife with the bitterest 
 hatred. My wife — to her great surprise at the 
 time, and unbounded astonishment since — as when
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUYEL. 297 
 
 ever Maria is in a bad way (bad way of temper, I 
 mean,) she always brings up — could not prevail to 
 have them come and live with us. Upon that 
 point I was adamant for a time ; and when, utterly 
 wearied out, I yielded, Madame Manzel refused to 
 leave John-street. She had taken to her bed a day 
 or two before ; ®iich she declared, and truly as it 
 proved, that she should never leave alive. She was 
 bedridden till about fourteen months ago, when she 
 died a frightful death." 
 
 " Killed ! murdered by her husband \" I ex- 
 claimed, impulsively. " So that is what you have 
 been so long driving at !" 
 
 " By no means. I mean morally a frightful 
 death. You shall hear. A message came to our 
 house, importing that Madame Manzel was dying. 
 M. Manzel was out ; but the dying woman had been 
 heard to express a wish to see her daughter. As it 
 happened, Maria had not many hours previously 
 been seized with the pains of labour. At her in- 
 sistence, though I would have been gladly excused, 
 I went to John- street. A terrible scene awaited me. 
 Thewoman was dyiug — mad, raving mad; but there
 
 298 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUYEL. 
 
 was method and memory in her madness. Her 
 ravings were frightful ; and all related to some 
 horrible murder, which it would seem she had 
 witnessed, but could not prevent. The name of 
 Antoine — Monsieur Antoine — frequently occurred. 
 The moment she saw me, she sprang half up in bed, 
 glared like a tigress at bay, and screamed out that 
 it was her daughter, it was Maria, she wanted to see. 
 I explained. That seemed to pacify, to calm her for 
 a few moments. ' Conie to me ; come close,' she ex- 
 claimed ; ' but first clear the room ; turn every- 
 body out — everybody out !' There was no one but 
 a nurse present; the doctor, who had been sent 
 for, not having arrived. The woman left the room ; 
 and I, at the gesture of her withered hands, stepped 
 to the head of the bed, and bent down to hear what 
 she wished to say, her voice dropping suddenly 
 to a whisper : ' Tell Maria never to accept — never 
 pollute her soul, perhaps endanger her life, by 
 accepting anything, any jewels, she may find after 
 his death! They are dyed in blood — innocent, 
 venerable blood. Hark ! Is that his step on the 
 stairs ? He will kill me, too, should he know !"
 
 THE MUEDER OF ANTONY LOUYEL. 299 
 
 Her flaming eyeballs were fixed upon the chamber- 
 door. It remained closed ; and the footstep which 
 had caught her ear passed upwards. * Not him,' she 
 gasped. Then turning again to me, she murmured, 
 * Silence ! not a word, except to Maria ! not a word. 
 But remember!' She then sank back on her 
 pillow." Good God ! how it has haunted me 
 ever since ! Maria persists that it was mere deli- 
 rium. I know better.'' 
 
 " Go on, Mr. Pendrell. Never mind about what 
 Maria thinks. You are becnnnino: to interest me." 
 
 " I knew you would be. Well, it must and shall 
 out. I will not be poisoned with it any longer. 
 Madame Manzel's eyes closed ; she was falling 
 asleep, or dying perhaps. I would summon the 
 nurse, and leave. As I was doing so with stealthy 
 steps, the deep bell of a neighbouring church tolled, 
 as one may say, rather than struck the hour of 
 one. The djing woman must, I think, have 
 thought she heard the bell which in some Roman 
 Catholic churches announces the elevation of the 
 Host. She started up, screaming, * Ha ! It is the 
 20th of March ! the 20th of March ! You are
 
 300 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 having your mummery-mass said for his soul, are 
 you ? — for the repose of the soul of him whom you 
 — robber ! villain ! murderer ! — killed in cold blood 
 —in his bed, whilst he slept ? But I will denounce 
 you,' she shouted with demoniac fury, springing 
 out of bed, and seizing me with a strangling grasp 
 round the neck — she! a woman bedridden for 
 half-a-dozen years ! — ' drag you to justice, to the 
 scaffold I I care not that I am your wife. Hell 
 joined us, if I am. Help, help! Murder, murder !' 
 I know," continued Pendrell, wiping his forehead, — 
 the 'present horror, so to speak, of the well-re- 
 membered scene bringing out the perspiration in 
 streams, — " that if her outcries had no tbrought the 
 nurse (a powerful woman) back into the room, I 
 should have been strangled, and no mistake about 
 it. I was absolutely black in the face, the nurse 
 declared, when she rescued me. I can well believe 
 it ; for I know I was as nearly choked as a man 
 could be and live. Forced back into the bed, and 
 held forcibly down, Madame Manzel expired in 
 convulsions, foaming at the mouth, and uttering 
 terrible denunciations of Theophile and Jules,
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. SOI 
 
 which names, with that of Monsieur Antoine, were 
 uttered over and over again." 
 
 " This communication of yours, Mr. Pendrell, is 
 a very serious one. Do not forget that it may be 
 my duty to report all you tell me to head- 
 quarters." 
 
 " To be sure ; it will be your duty to do so. But 
 hear me out. My wife, as I told you, believes that 
 her mother's ravings were mere delirium, not 
 having the slightest basis in fact. Fire would not 
 burn that belief out of her." 
 
 " It is not mine, I can assure you, Mr. Pendrell." 
 
 " Nor mine. Acting upon that belief, my wife, 
 as soon as she could leave the house, went to John- 
 street, and arranged with Manzel to sell the lease, 
 furniture, &c., at No. 6, John-street, and take up 
 his abode with us. I was obliged to give way; and 
 he still lives with us, if life it can be called. He is 
 like a man pursued by a remorseless demon : starts 
 up in the night, screaming with terror ; and when 
 one or more of us hurry into his room with 
 lights, he is found generally in his shirt ; his face 
 white as stone ; eyes starting from his head ; and
 
 302 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 trembling, as with ague, in every limb. In fact, 
 I believe that his mind is giving way — that he is 
 more than half mad already. Another circum- 
 stance, Mr. Clarke, must not be forgotten. It was, 
 as I said, on a 20th of March that Madam Manzel 
 died ; and on the 20th of March last, Manzel, for 
 the first and last time since he has lodged with us, 
 went out, dressed in deep mourning. My curiosity 
 was excited, and I followed him to the Sardinian 
 Roman Catholic Chapel ; and there, sure enough, 
 a black mass was being said, and requiem sung, for 
 the repose of the soul, one of the officials told me, 
 of one Antoine Louvel (I took the name down at 
 his dictation), who died on that day, very many 
 years ago, how many he could not say.^' 
 
 "The incidents you relate have a terrible co- 
 herency. Go on, pray." 
 
 Mr. John Pendrell had paused hesitatingly. Re- 
 covering himself, he said :— " I read, only about four 
 days ago, that whoever shelters a murderer, knowing 
 him to be such — or does not, in fact, denounce him 
 to the police — is held to be a guilty accessory to the 
 murder after the fact. Is that the law ?"
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOIA^EL. 303 
 
 " Unquestionably it is. Still no one is bound to 
 accuse a person of murder upon mere suspicion — 
 though of the strongest kind." 
 
 " But if property — valuables that it could be 
 proved had been obtained by the murder, and had 
 never been previously traced — were found in the 
 possession of the harbourer or harbourers, there 
 would be a presumption of guilty knowledge 
 against him or them ?" 
 
 '' Certainly there would ; unless they could show 
 it was honestly, openly come by/' 
 
 " So I tell my wife ; but she pooh-poohs and 
 laughs at all I say upon the subject. But I have 
 determined to act for myself in this damnable 
 business. Better a year's tongue-banging than to 
 stand at the bar of a police-court, if only for an 
 hour. Well, then, I shall make a thoroughly clean 
 breast of it. Manzel has told her, and it may be 
 true enough, that he has made his will in our 
 favour — means to hang me with bis dead hand, as 
 I have read of somebody doing. (I know he hates 
 me with a deadly hate, for having been present 
 when his wife died — dreads me too.) Manzel has,
 
 304 THE MUKDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 I say, told my wife that lie has made his will in 
 our favour ; she — a true woman, in more than one 
 respect — couldn't rest till she had found out of what 
 the bequest, so much bragged of in an under sort 
 of way, consisted of To do so, she in some way ob- 
 tained the key of Manzel's iron chest — where the 
 treasure must be, if anywhere. He takes his 
 siesta on the sofa every day for about two hours, 
 during which he is quite safe. To, however, 
 make assurance doubly sure, Mrs. Pendrell, only on 
 Thursday last — no later than that — locked the 
 sittinof-room door on the outside as soon as Manzel 
 was fast; proceeded to his bedroom, opened the 
 iron chest — ^you see, I have no reserve — found 
 two large jewel-cases (the keys of which were 
 in the chest), and brought them downstairs, for the 
 leisurely gratification of her own eyes with the 
 glittering treasure which would soon be hers — 
 there being no doubt whatever that Manzel will 
 die before this year's leaves do. Well, it was 
 a dazzling sight ; though of the value of the 
 gems — diamonds, rubies, emeralds set in crosses, 
 stomachers, strung in bracelets, necklaces — we
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 305 
 
 of course, could not accurately judge. Maria was 
 entranced ; and with difficulty prevailed upon her- 
 self to return them to the iron chest before Manzel 
 awoke. More than ever is she convinced that her 
 mother's dying ravings Avere of no more serious 
 account than the chirping of birds — that Manzel 
 himself is a good, generous, though no doubt very 
 eccentric man. 
 
 " For my part," continued Pendrell, " I haven't 
 slept a wink since. At Manzel's death, perhaps not 
 more than a week hence, the wUl must be proved. 
 Maria, if an angel from heaven were to try and 
 persuade her not to display or dispose of the 
 jewels, would not listen * to such nonsense ;' and 
 we may find ourselves double-ironed in Newgate 
 before w^e knew where we were/' 
 
 " Not quite so bad as that ; but you might find 
 yourself in a difficult position. What course of 
 action do you propose ?" 
 
 "I leave that to you; and feel wonderfully 
 relieved at having transferred the whole business to 
 your management." 
 
 "Not quite so fast. There is nothing very defi- 
 
 VOL. I. 20
 
 306 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 nite^ decided, in your statement. The chief points- 
 are Madam Manzel's ravings, a short time before 
 death — of no legal value whatever ; but affording 
 guidance and light to detective feet and hands. 
 The 'Mass for the Dead,' said on the 20th of 
 March (the day Madam Manzel died), for the 
 repose of the soul of Antoine Louvel — Madam 
 Manzel having spoken frequently during her last 
 moments of a Monsieur Antoine, whom she, 
 in her disordered imagination — we will say disor- 
 dered imagination — accused of being murdered ; 
 at which Mass of Requiem, M. Manzel — leaving 
 your house for the first and last time since he has 
 lodged there — attended. You also find jewels of 
 great value in M. ManzeFs iron-chest, which yoit 
 conclude are the jewels which Madam Manzel said 
 were dyed in innocent, venerable blood ; and which 
 she, through you, implored her daughter not to 
 stain her soul, perhaps imperil her life, by the ac- 
 ceptance of. All that is certainly very suggestive ; 
 but before acting, more reliable proofs — in a judi- 
 cial sense — must be obtained. Meanwhile, I should 
 like to see this M. Manzel. I have some skill in
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 307 
 
 readino^ the workinors of a man's conscience in his 
 face, especially when age and the gnawings of re- 
 morse have eaten away the mask which bold- 
 browed, lusty villany can often assume." 
 
 " I wished you to see him, Mr. Clarke. Will 
 you accompany me home now ? It is a good deal 
 past my time,'' added Pendrel], sinking down at 
 once from the clear-brained man of the world, and 
 resolute grappler with its difiSculties, to the timid 
 household serf; " and it may be better — more plea- 
 sant — you understand ! " 
 
 " Very well indeed ! Also, that you have not 
 only much overstayed your time, but have been 
 more frank and explicit than you quite intended to 
 be. Not one word, remember, that I am a police- 
 officer !" 
 
 " Certainly not ! You will manage that — that 
 Maria shall be as httle annoyed as possible. To be 
 sure, the hoary villain is no relation of hers, much 
 less of mine. Still " 
 
 " You have behaved very properly, Pendrell; and 
 I will take care that, so far as you and your wife 
 are concerned, nothing shall be done that may in 
 20— ii
 
 308 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 the slightest degree compromise you. You half 
 repent, I see, of the bold plunge you have taken ; 
 but, depend upon it^ you have taken the wisest 
 course. Have you any further particulars to relate ? 
 Is there, for example, any peculiarity in Manzel's 
 mode of thought and speech? He reads news- 
 papers, I suppose, still ?" 
 
 ** Yes, oh yes ! the Times every day — the 
 Despatch weekly." 
 
 " He does not, I suppose, much interest himself 
 in politics ; but, if I might hazard a guess, a thrill- 
 ing murder fascinates, enchains him, and he will 
 be constantly referring to it." 
 
 " By heaven ! that is exactly true. There is the 
 tragedy of Lord William Eussell — supposed to be 
 murdered in his bed by Courvoisier : he has talked 
 of little else ever since, and sometimes says he shall 
 go and hear the trial." 
 
 " It is very likely that he will — would rather, 
 if he has the chance. The fact that Manzel 
 does dwell so pertinaciously upon narratives of 
 murder, and especially upon that murder, weighs 
 upon my mind as heavily against him as any
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTOMY LOUYEL. 309 
 
 of the suspicious circumstances you have re- 
 lated." 
 
 Mrs. John Pendrell was very gracious still. I 
 listened with grave attention to her spoon -story — 
 promised to render her all the assistance in my 
 power ; and the husband's offence in overstaying 
 his time was, I saw, condoned. I was obliged, 
 however, more than once, when we had an op- 
 portunity of speaking unheard by Mrs. Pendrell, 
 to assure him that it should never transpire that 
 he had "informed" against Manzel. I stayed till 
 ten o'clock, in the hope of seeing that person. He 
 did not, however, make his appearance, and I took 
 leave with a very serious affair upon my hands. 
 
 A very serious, difficult affair. I hunted through 
 the "Annual Register" to no purpose. Nowhere 
 could I find any account of the murder of Antoine 
 or Antony Louvel. The 20th of March, in the 
 only complete newspaper file I was able to con- 
 sult just then, was equally blank. The priest at 
 the Sardinian Chapel had merely been informed 
 that one Antoine Louvel had died on the day
 
 310 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 named, and been requested to offer up annually a 
 propitious sacrifice for the repose of his soul. At 
 last, however, by what men call accident, I fell 
 upon the track of information ; followed it 
 zealously up till I had all the incidents of the 
 terrible tragedy clearly before me. Before decisive 
 action was taken, the information thus picked up, 
 raked together, was carefully collated, and, as the 
 practice is, laid before the legal adviser to the 
 commissioner. The evidence was pronounced 
 insufficient to ensure a conviction — the great, 
 seemingly insuperable difficulty, having regard to 
 the lapse of time since 1794?, being to identify 
 Theophilus Manzel with Jules Carlier, Madam 
 Manzel with Maria Denton. I individually had no 
 doubt whatever upon the subject Madam 
 Manzel in her last ravings had spoken of one 
 Jules, and her daughter's name was Maria ; but 
 here came a difficulty pointed out by the lawyer, 
 which had unaccountably, most unaccountably, 
 escaped my notice. How the plague could 
 Maria Pendrell, who was certainly not more than 
 thirty-five years of age, be the infant child of Mrs.
 
 THE SniRDEE OF ANTOXY LOUVEL. 311 
 
 Maria Denton, widow when the murder was com- 
 mitted in 1794 ? The change of name from Denton 
 to King might be easily enough accounted for, 
 like the alteration of Carlier to Manzel ; but their 
 age ? The solicitor thought Mrs. Pendrell must be 
 the daughter of Madame Manzel by her second 
 husband, Carlier or Manzel. This seemed feasible, 
 and opened up a very disagreeable point in the 
 case, — disagreeable, I mean, for poor Pendrell. He 
 would, should Manzel be convicted, have been the 
 means of sending his wife's own father to the 
 gallows. However, that was no affair of mine. I 
 had a duty to perform which was not to be shirked, 
 were I inclined to shirk it, which I certainly was 
 not. 
 
 The difficulty about Mrs. Pendrell's age was 
 quickly solved. Though always, as long as she 
 could remember, calling herself Madam Manzel's 
 daughter — for what reason she knew not — she was 
 really that person's granddaughter. This was 
 proved by the marriage-documents, in which she 
 was described as the daughter of Maria and James 
 King, and granddaughter of Madam ilanzel.
 
 312 THE MURDER OF ANTONT LOUVEL. 
 
 Mrs. Pendrell, her kusband informed me, had 
 never, to her recollection, seen either of her parents. 
 They had died probably when she was very young. 
 The habit of calling his wife Madam ManzeFs 
 daughter had remained with Pendrell after he 
 knew the truth. It was a fact of such trifling im- 
 portance that he might have half-forgotten it. 
 
 I played — at least I began — a rubber of whist, by 
 arrangement of Pendrell, at his house, with Mrs. 
 Pendrell and M. Manzel. Whist was the sole 
 delassement of the latter ; and he had, no doubt, 
 once been a first-rate player. But the man was 
 prematurely trembling on the verge of the grave — 
 pushed thereto, I had no manner of doubt, by the 
 goad of a torturing conscience. His faculties 
 were fast fading to childishness, and I had no 
 doubt of success in the game I had resolved 
 to play. 
 
 The second game of the rubber was commencing 
 when I said solemnly : — " There are more particu- 
 lars come out, I hear, respecting the death of Lord 
 William Russell. How strange it is that the evi-
 
 THE MURDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 313 
 
 dence of such a crime, if buried, one may say, in the 
 centre of the'earth, is sure to come to light at last !'' 
 I looked at Mrs. Pendrell, who was Manzel's 
 partner, as I spoke; but saw him distinctly mirrored 
 in the chimney-glass beyond and behind her chair. 
 The moment the words " murder of Lord William 
 Russell" passed my lips, Manzel's trembling fingers 
 ceased sorting his cards ; the filmy eyes, kindling 
 with a strange expression of curiosity and terror, 
 were fixed upon me ; and when I ceased speaking, 
 the cards fell, scattering, from his hand. 
 
 " As a proof of that," I continued, " a number of 
 circumstances connected with a dreadful murder 
 committed many years ago in Hatton Garden " 
 
 "What is the matter?" interrupted Mrs. Pendrell, 
 addressing Manzel, who had risen upon his feet, 
 and, blanched with fear and horror, glared at me. I 
 turned round at the question, and looked steadily 
 at the shaking old man. 
 
 " A dreadful murder, committed many years ago, 
 on the night of the 20th of March, 1794 !" Man- 
 zel dropped helplessly into his chair at these words, 
 continuing to gaze with that wild, terrified expres-
 
 314 THE MUEDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 sion in my face. " The name of the murdered gen- 
 tleman was Antoine Louvel ; he was known to be 
 possessed of large property in jewels and coin, with 
 which he had escaped from Franca He had two 
 servants ; a^ man and woman. The man's name 
 was Jules Carlier ; the woman's, Mrs. Denton. 
 She was a young widow, bore an excellent cha- 
 racter, and had one infant child. Carlier was 
 handsome and also young; he had accompanied 
 his master from France. On the night of the 20th 
 of March, or, rather, towards one in the morniug of 
 the 21st, there was a great outcry at No. 17, Hat- 
 ton Garden. A foul murder had been done. The 
 outcry was raised by Carlier, who, alarmed at some 
 noise below (in M. LouvePs bedroom), had has- 
 tened downstairs, with a loaded pistol in his hand. 
 He was too late. M. Louvel was weltering iu his 
 life-blood, and Mrs. Denton (who had first heard 
 the noise) was weeping and lamenting over the 
 murdered gentleman. The strong-box, in which 
 M. Louvel's valuables were kept, had been broken 
 open, and the contents — estimated at a very great 
 sum — carried off; together with about one thou-
 
 THE MURDEE OF ANTOXY LOUVEL. 315 
 
 sand pounds — partly in rouleaux of French louis, 
 partly in English guineas. This information was 
 furnished by Carlier. The assassin got clear off, 
 and inquiry was baffled. No suspicion — not the 
 shghtest — appears to have fallen upon either of 
 the servants, who not long afterwards disappeared 
 from the neighbourhood. It has now trans- 
 pired/' continued I, rising from my chair, and 
 speaking directly to Manzel — a pitiable spectacle was 
 the horror-stricken, doomed miscreant, he feeling, 
 knowing, he was doomed — " it has now transpired 
 that Mrs. Denton and Carlier had been privately 
 loarried some weeks previous to the murder ; 
 that it was Carlier who murdered his master, 
 whether assisted by his wife is doubtful, more 
 than doubtful. Certainly she was a guilty accessory 
 after the fact. It is now also known, known to 
 me," I continued, "that Jules Carlier is Theophile 
 Manzel — it's no use screaming, sir — Mrs. Denton, 
 his dead wife ; and I believe that the jewels for 
 which he pawned his soul, and was afraid to dis- 
 pose of, are now in his possession, possibly in this 
 house ; I arrest you, consequently, Jules Carlier, for
 
 316 THE MQRDER OF ANTONY LOUVEL. 
 
 the murder of Antoine Louvel/' Death was 
 quicker in his arrest of the murderer than I ; he 
 slipped down screaming from his chair in a fit, 
 from which he only recovered to live for a suffi- 
 cient time to make full and ample confession of his 
 crime. His life, he said, had been one ceaseless 
 torture since its occurrence, and that he would 
 have long since given himself up to justice but that 
 admission of his own guilt would bring down 
 exemplary punishment upon his wife. 
 
 The jewels, &c., after the legal formalities had 
 been gone through, were given up to the repre- 
 sentatives of the Louvel family. Mr. John Pen- 
 drell's agency in the matter was never so much as 
 suspected by his wife — a fact upon which that well- 
 meaning, if weak man in a husbandly sense, has 
 never ceased to felicitate himself. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 
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