Mischief brewing--Timothy and I set our wits to work, and he
resumes his old profession of a gipsy.
I hastened home with feelings too painful to be described. I had a
soreness at my heart, an oppression on my spirits, which weighed me
down. I had but one wish--that I was dead. I had already imparted to
Harcourt the history of my life, and when I came in, I threw myself upon
the sofa in despair, and relieved my agonised heart with a flood of
tears. As soon as I could compose myself, I stated what had occurred.
"My dear Newland, although it has been an unfortunate occurrence in
itself, I do not see that you have so much cause to grieve, for you have
this satisfaction, that it appears there has been a wish to reclaim
you."
"Yes," replied I, "I grant that, but have they not been told, and have
they not believed, that I have been ignominiously punished for a capital
crime? Will they ever seek me more?"
"Probably not; you must now seek them. What I should recommend is, that
you repair to-morrow to the apothecary's shop, and interrogate relative
to the person who called to make inquiries after you. If you will allow
me, I will go with you."
"And be insulted by those malignant scoundrels?"
"They dare not insult you. As an apothecary's apprentice they would, but
as a gentleman they will quail; and if they do not, their master will
most certainly be civil, and give you all the information which he can.
We may as well, however, not do things by halves; I will borrow my
aunt's carriage for the morning, and we will go in style."
"I think I will call this evening upon Mr Masterton, and ask his
advice."
"Ask him to accompany us, Newland, and he will frighten them with libel,
and defamation of character."
I called upon Mr Masterton, that evening, and told my story. "It is
indeed very provoking, Newland; but keep your courage up, I will go with
you to-morrow, and will see what we can make of it. At what time do you
propose to start?"
"Will it suit you, sir, if we call at one o'clock?"
"Yes; so good-night, my boy, for I have something here which I must
contrive to get through before that time."
Harcourt had procured the carriage, and we picked up Mr Masterton at the
hour agreed, and proceeded to Smithfield. When we drove up to the door
of Mr Pleggit's shop, the assistants at first imagined that it was a
mistake; few handsome carriages are to be seen stopping in this quarter
of the metropolis. We descended and entered the shop, Mr Masterton
inquiring if Mr Pleggit was at home. The shopmen, who had not recognised
me, bowed to the ground in their awkward way; and one ran to call Mr
Pleggit, who was up stairs. Mr Pleggit descended, and we walked into the
back parlour. Mr Masterton then told him the object of our calling, and
requested to know why the gentleman, who had inquired after me, had been
sent away with the infamous fabrication that I had been transported for
forgery. Mr Pleggit protested innocence--recollected, however, that a
person had called--would make every inquiry of his shopmen. The head man
was called in and interrogated--at first he appeared to make a joke of
it, but when threatened by Mr Masterton became humble--acknowledged that
they had said that I was transported, for they had read it in the
newspapers--was sorry for the mistake; said that the gentleman was a
very tall person, very well dressed, very much of a gentleman--could not
recollect his exact dress--was a large built man, with a stern face--but
seemed very much agitated when he heard that I had been transported.
Called twice, Mr Pleggit was not in at first--left his name--thinks the
name was put down on the day book--when he called a second time, Mr
Pleggit was at home, and referred him to them, not knowing what had
become of me. The other shopman was examined, and his evidence proved
similar to that of the first. The day-book was sent for, and the day in
August ---- referred to; there was a name written down on the side of the
page, which the shopman said he had no doubt, indeed he could almost
swear, was the gentleman's name, as there was no other name put down on
that day. The name, as taken down, was _Derbennon_. This was all the
information we could obtain, and we then quitted the shop, and drove off
without there being any recognition of me on the part of Mr Pleggit and
his assistants.
"I never heard that name before," observed Harcourt to Mr Masterton.
"It is, in all probability, De Benyon," replied the lawyer; "we must
make allowances for their ignorance. At all events, this is a sort of
clue to follow up. The De Benyons are Irish."
"Then I will set off for Ireland to-morrow morning, sir," said I.
"You will do no such thing," replied the lawyer; "but you will call upon
me to-morrow evening, and perhaps I may have something to say to you."
I did not fail to attend Mr Masterton, who stated that he had made every
inquiry relative to the De Benyons; as he had said, they were an Irish
family of the highest rank, and holding the peerage of De Beauvoir, but
that he had written to his agent in Dublin, giving him directions to
obtain for him every possible information in his power relative to all
the individuals composing it. Till this had been received, all that I
could do was to remain quiet. I then narrated to him the behaviour of
the agent, Mr Iving, to Timothy. "There is some mystery there, most
assuredly," observed Mr Masterton; "When do you go again to ----?"
I replied, that it was not my intention to go there for some time,
unless he would wish to see the little girl.
"I do, Newland. I think I must take her under my protection as well as
you. We will go down to-morrow. Sunday is the only day I can spare; but
it must be put down as a work of charity."
The next day we went down to ----. Fleta was surprised to see me so soon,
and Mr Masterton was much struck with the elegance and classical
features of my little protégée. He asked her many questions, and with
his legal tact, contrived to draw from her many little points relative
to her infant days, which she had, till he put his probing questions,
quite forgotten. As we returned to town, he observed, "You are right,
Japhet, that is no child of humble origin. Her very appearance
contradicts it; but we have, I think, a chance of discovering who she
is--a better one, I'm afraid, than at present we have for your
identification. But never mind, let us trust to perseverance."
For three weeks I continued to live with Harcourt, but I did not go out
much. Such was the state of my affairs, when Timothy came to my room
one morning, and said, "I do not know whether you have observed it, sir;
but there is a man constantly lurking about here, watching the house, I
believe. I think, but still I'm not quite sure, that I have seen his
face before; but where I cannot recollect."
"Indeed, what sort of a person may he be?"
"He is a very dark man, stout, and well made; and is dressed in a sort
of half-sailor, half-gentleman's dress; such as you see put on by those
who belong to the Funny Clubs on the river; but he is not at all a
gentleman himself--quite the contrary. It is now about a week that I
have seen him, every day; and I have watched him, and perceive that he
generally follows you as soon as you go out."
"Well," replied I, "we must find out what he wants--if we can. Point him
out to me; I will soon see if he is tracing my steps."
Timothy pointed him out to me after breakfast; I could not recollect the
face, and yet it appeared that I had seen it before. I went out, and
after passing half a dozen streets, I turned round and perceived that
the man was dodging me. I took no notice, but being resolved to try him
again, I walked to the White Horse Cellar, and took a seat inside a
Brentford coach about to start. On my arrival at Brentford I got out,
and perceived that the man was on the roof. Of a sudden it flashed on my
memory--it was the gipsy who had come to the camp with the communication
to Melchior, which induced him to quit it. I recollected him--and his
kneeling down by the stream and washing his face. The mystery was
solved--Melchior had employed him to find out the residence of Fleta. In
all probability they had applied to the false address given by Timothy,
and in consequence were trying, by watching my motions, to find out the
true one. "You shall be deceived, at all events," thought I, as I walked
on through Brentford until I came to a ladies' seminary. I rang the
bell, and was admitted, stating my wish to know the terms of the school
for a young lady, and contrived to make as long a stay as I could,
promising to call again, if the relatives of the young lady were as
satisfied as I professed to be. On my quitting the house, I perceived
that my gipsy attendant was not far off. I took the first stage back,
and returned to my lodgings. When I had told all that had occurred to
Timothy, he replied, "I think, sir, that if you could replace me for a
week or two, I could now be of great service. He does not know me, and
if I were to darken my face, and put on a proper dress, I think I should
have no difficulty in passing myself off as one of the tribe, knowing
their slang, and having been so much with them."
"But what good do you anticipate, Timothy?"
"My object is to find out where he puts up, and to take the same
quarters--make his acquaintance, and find out who Melchior is, and where
he lives. My knowledge of him and Nattée may perhaps assist me."
"You must be careful then, Timothy; for he may know sufficient of our
history to suspect you."
"Let me alone, sir. Do you like my proposal?"
"Yes, I do; you may commence your arrangements immediately."