COLONEL OSBORNE AND MR. BOZZLE RETURN TO LONDON.
Hugh Stanbury went down on the Saturday, by the early express to
Exeter, on his road to Lessboro'. He took his ticket through to
Lessboro', not purposing to stay at Exeter; but, from the exigencies
of the various trains, it was necessary that he should remain for
half an hour at the Exeter Station. This took place on the Saturday,
and Colonel Osborne's visit to the Clock House had been made on the
Friday. Colonel Osborne had returned to Lessboro', had slept again
at Mrs. Clegg's house, and returned to London on the Saturday. It so
happened that he also was obliged to spend half an hour at the Exeter
Station, and that his half-hour, and Hugh Stanbury's half-hour, were
one and the same. They met, therefore, as a matter of course, upon
the platform. Stanbury was the first to see the other, and he found
that he must determine on the spur of the moment what he would say,
and what he would do. He had received no direct commission from
Trevelyan as to his meeting with Colonel Osborne. Trevelyan had
declared that, as to the matter of quarrelling, he meant to retain
the privilege of doing that for himself; but Stanbury had quite
understood that this was only the vague expression of an angry man.
The Colonel had taken a glass of sherry, and had lighted a cigar,
and was quite comfortable,--having thrown aside, for a time, that
consciousness of the futility of his journey which had perplexed
him,--when Stanbury accosted him.
"What! Mr. Stanbury,--how do you do? Fine day, isn't it? Are you
going up or down?"
"I'm going to see my own people at Nuncombe Putney, a village beyond
Lessboro'," said Hugh.
"Ah;--indeed." Colonel Osborne of course perceived at once that as
this man was going to the house at which he had just been visiting,
it would be better that he should himself explain what he had done.
If he were to allow this mention of Nuncombe Putney to pass without
saying that he himself had been there, he would be convicted of
at least some purpose of secrecy in what he had been doing. "Very
strange," said he; "I was at Nuncombe Putney myself yesterday."
"I know you were," said Stanbury.
"And how did you know it?" There had been a tone of anger in
Stanbury's voice which Colonel Osborne had at once appreciated, and
which made him assume a similar tone. As they spoke there was a man
standing in a corner close by the bookstall, with his eye upon them,
and that man was Bozzle, the ex-policeman,--who was doing his duty
with sedulous activity by seeing "the Colonel" back to London. Now
Bozzle did not know Hugh Stanbury, and was angry with himself that he
should be so ignorant. It is the pride of a detective ex-policeman to
know everybody that comes in his way.
"Well, I had been so informed. My friend Trevelyan knew that you were
there,--or that you were going there."
"I don't care who knew that I was going there," said the Colonel.
"I won't pretend to understand how that may be, Colonel Osborne; but
I think you must be aware, after what took place in Curzon Street,
that it would have been better that you should not have attempted to
see Mrs. Trevelyan. Whether you have seen her I do not know."
"What business is it of yours, Mr. Stanbury, whether I have seen that
lady or not?"
"Unhappily for me, her husband has made it my business."
"Very unhappily for you, I should say."
"And the lady is staying at my mother's house."
"I presume the lady is not a prisoner in your mother's house, and
that your mother's hospitality is not so restricted but that her
guest may see an old friend under her roof." This Colonel Osborne
said with an assumed look of almost righteous indignation, which
was not at all lost upon Bozzle. They had returned back towards the
bookstall, and Bozzle, with his eyes fixed on a copy of the "D. R."
which he had just bought, was straining his ears to the utmost to
catch what was being said.
"You best know whether you have seen her or not."
"I have seen her."
"Then I shall take leave to tell you, Colonel Osborne, that you have
acted in a most unfriendly way, and have done that which must tend to
keep an affectionate husband apart from his wife."
"Sir, I don't at all understand this kind of thing addressed to me.
The father of the lady you are speaking of has been my most intimate
friend for thirty years." After all, the Colonel was a mean man when
he could take pride in his youth, and defend himself on the score of
his age, in one and the same proceeding.
"I have nothing further to say," replied Stanbury.
"You have said too much already, Mr. Stanbury."
"I think not, Colonel Osborne. You have, I fear, done an incredible
deal of mischief by going to Nuncombe Putney; and, after all that
you have heard on the subject, you must have known that it would be
mischievous. I cannot understand how you can force yourself about a
man's wife against the man's expressed wish."
"Sir, I didn't force myself upon anybody. Sir, I went down to see an
old friend,--and a remarkable piece of antiquity. And, when another
old friend was in the neighbourhood, close by,--one of the oldest
friends I have in the world,--wasn't I to go and see her? God bless
my soul! What business is it of yours? I never heard such impudence
in my life!" Let the charitable reader suppose that Colonel Osborne
did not know that he was lying,--that he really thought, when he
spoke, that he had gone down to Lessboro' to see the remarkable piece
of antiquity.
"Good morning," said Hugh Stanbury, turning on his heels and walking
away. Colonel Osborne shook himself, inflated his cheeks, and blew
forth the breath out of his mouth, put his thumbs up to the armholes
of his waistcoat, and walked about the platform as though he thought
it to be incumbent on him to show that he was somebody,--somebody
that ought not to be insulted,--somebody, perhaps, whom a very pretty
woman might prefer to her own husband, in spite of a small difference
in age. He was angry, but not quite so much angry as proud. And he
was safe, too. He thought that he was safe. When he should come to
account for himself and his actions to his old friend, Sir Marmaduke,
he felt that he would be able to show that he had been, in all
respects, true to friendship. Sir Marmaduke had unfortunately given
his daughter to a jealous, disagreeable fellow, and the fault all
lay in that. As for Hugh Stanbury,--he would simply despise Hugh
Stanbury, and have done with it.
Mr. Bozzle, though he had worked hard in the cause, had heard but a
word or two. Eaves-droppers seldom do hear more than that. A porter
had already told him who was Hugh Stanbury,--that he was Mr. Hugh
Stanbury, and that his aunt lived at Exeter. And Bozzle, knowing that
the lady about whom he was concerned was living with a Mrs. Stanbury
at the house he had been watching, put two and two together with
his natural cleverness. "God bless my soul! what business is it of
yours?" Those words were nearly all that Bozzle had been able to
hear; but even those sufficiently indicated a quarrel. "The lady" was
living with Mrs. Stanbury, having been so placed by her husband; and
young Stanbury was taking the lady's part! Bozzle began to fear that
the husband had not confided in him with that perfect faith which he
felt to be essentially necessary to the adequate performance of the
duties of his great profession. A sudden thought, however, struck
him. Something might be done on the journey up to London. He at
once made his way back to the ticket-window and exchanged his
ticket,--second-class for first-class. It was a noble deed, the
expense falling all upon his own pocket; for, in the natural course
of things, he would have charged his employers with the full
first-class fare. He had seen Colonel Osborne seat himself in a
carriage, and within two minutes he was occupying the opposite place.
The Colonel was aware that he had noticed the man's face lately, but
did not know where.
"Very fine summer weather, sir," said Bozzle.
"Very fine," said the Colonel, burying himself behind a newspaper.
"They is getting up their wheat nicely in these parts, sir."
The answer to this was no more than a grunt. But Bozzle was not
offended. Not to be offended is the special duty of all policemen, in
and out of office; and the journey from Exeter to London was long,
and was all before him.
"A very nice little secluded village is Nuncombe Putney," said
Bozzle, as the train was leaving the Salisbury Station.
At Salisbury two ladies had left the carriage, no one else had got
in, and Bozzle was alone with the Colonel.
"I dare say," said the Colonel, who by this time had relinquished his
shield, and who had begun to compose himself for sleep, or to pretend
to compose himself, as soon as he heard Bozzle's voice. He had been
looking at Bozzle, and though he had not discovered the man's trade,
had told himself that his companion was a thing of dangers,--a thing
to be avoided, by one engaged, as had been he himself, on a special
and secret mission.
"Saw you there,--calling at the Clock House," said Bozzle.
"Very likely," said the Colonel, throwing his head well back into the
corner, shutting his eyes, and uttering a slight preliminary snore.
"Very nice family of ladies at the Clock House," said Bozzle. The
Colonel answered him by a more developed snore. "Particularly Mrs.
T----" said Bozzle.
The Colonel could not stand this. He was so closely implicated with
Mrs. Trevelyan at the present moment that he could not omit to notice
an address so made to him. "What the devil is that to you, sir?" said
he, jumping up and confronting Bozzle in his wrath.
But policemen have always this advantage in their difficulties, that
they know to a fraction what the wrath of men is worth, and what it
can do. Sometimes it can dismiss a policeman, and sometimes break
his head. Sometimes it can give him a long and troublesome job, and
sometimes it may be wrath to the death. But in nineteen out of twenty
cases it is not a fearful thing, and the policeman knows well when
he need not fear it. On the present occasion Bozzle was not at all
afraid of Colonel Osborne's wrath.
"Well, sir, not much, indeed, if you come to that. Only you was
there, sir."
"Of course I was there," said the Colonel.
"And a very nice young gentleman is Mr. Stanbury," said Bozzle.
To this Colonel Osborne made no reply, but again had resort to his
newspaper in the most formal manner.
"He's going down to his family, no doubt," continued Bozzle.
"He may be going to the devil for what I know," said the Colonel, who
could not restrain himself.
"I suppose they're all friends of Mrs. T.'s?" asked Bozzle.
"Sir," said the Colonel, "I believe that you're a spy."
"No, Colonel, no; no, no; I'm no spy. I wouldn't demean myself to be
such. A spy is a man as has no profession, and nothing to justify his
looking into things. Things must be looked into, Colonel; or how's a
man to know where he is? or how's a lady to know where she is? But
as for spies, except in the way of evidence, I don't think nothing
of 'em." Soon after this two more passengers entered the train, and
nothing more was said between Bozzle and the Colonel.
The Colonel, as soon as he reached London, went home to his lodgings,
and then to his club, and did his best to enjoy himself. On the
following Monday he intended to start for Scotland. But he could not
quite enjoy himself,--because of Bozzle. He felt that he was being
watched; and there is nothing that any man hates so much as that,
especially when a lady is concerned. Colonel Osborne knew that his
visit to Nuncombe Putney had been very innocent; but he did not like
the feeling that even his innocence had been made the subject of
observation.
Bozzle went away at once to Trevelyan, whom he found at his chambers.
He himself had had no very deep-laid scheme in his addresses to
Colonel Osborne. He had begun to think that very little would come of
the affair,--especially after Hugh Stanbury had appeared upon the
scene,--and had felt that there was nothing to be lost by presenting
himself before the eyes of the Colonel. It was necessary that he
should make a report to his employer, and the report might be made
a little more full after a few words with the man whom he had been
"looking into." "Well, Mr. Trewillian," he said, seating himself
on a chair close against the wall, and holding his hat between the
knees,--"I've seen the parties, and know pretty much all about it."
"All I want to know, Mr. Bozzle, is, whether Colonel Osborne has been
at the Clock House?"
"He has been there, Mr. Trewillian. There is no earthly doubt about
that. From hour to hour I can tell you pretty nearly where he's been
since he left London." Then Bozzle took out his memorandum-book.
"I don't care about all that," said Trevelyan.
"I dare say not, sir; but it may be wanted all the same. Any
gentleman acting in our way can't be too particular,--can't have
too many facts. The smallest little,--tiddly things,"--and Bozzle
as he said this seemed to enjoy immensely the flavour of his own
epithet,--"the smallest little 'tiddly' things do so often turn up
trumps when you get your evidence into court."
"I'm not going to get any evidence into court."
"Maybe not, sir. A gentleman and lady is always best out of court as
long as things can hang on any way;--but sometimes things won't hang
on no way."
Trevelyan, who was conscious that the employment of Bozzle was
discreditable, and whose affairs in Devonshire were now in the hands
of, at any rate, a more honourable ally, was at present mainly
anxious to get rid of the ex-policeman. "I have no doubt you've been
very careful, Mr. Bozzle," said he.
"There isn't no one in the business could be more so, Mr.
Trewillian."
"And you have found out what it was necessary that I should know.
Colonel Osborne did go to the Clock House?"
"Was let in at the front door on Friday the 5th, by Sarah French, the
housemaid, at 10.37 a.m., and was let out again by the same young
woman at 11.41 a.m. Perhaps you'd like to have a copy of the entry,
Mr. Trewillian?"
"No, no, no."
"It doesn't matter. Of course it'll be with me when it's wanted. Who
was with him, exactly, at that time, I can't say. There is things,
Mr. Trewillian, one can't see. But I don't think as he saw neither
Mrs. Stanbury, nor Miss Stanbury,--not to speak to. I did just have
one word, promiscuous, with Sarah French, after he was gone. Whether
the other young lady was with 'em or not, and if so for how long,
I--can't--say. There is things, Mr. Trewillian, which one can't see."
How Trevelyan hated the man as he went on with his odious
details,--details not one of which possessed the slightest
importance. "It's all right, I dare say, Mr. Bozzle. And now about
the account."
"Quite so, Mr. Trewillian. But there was one question;--just one
question."
"What question?" said Trevelyan, almost angrily.
"And there's another thing I must tell you, too, Mr. Trewillian. I
come back to town in the same carriage with the Colonel. I thought it
better."
"You did not tell him who you were?"
"No, Mr. Trewillian; I didn't tell him that. I don't think he'd say
if you was to ask him that I told him much of anything. No, Mr.
Trewillian, I didn't tell him nothing. I don't often tell folks much
till the time comes. But I thought it better, and I did have a word
or two with the gent,--just a word or two. He's not so very downy,
isn't the Colonel;--for one that's been at it so long, Mr.
Trewillian."
"I dare say not. But if you could just let me have the account, Mr.
Bozzle,--"
"The account? Oh, yes;--that is necessary; ain't it? These sort of
inquiries do come a little expensive, Mr. Trewillian; because time
goes for so much; and when one has to be down on a thing, sharp, you
know, and sure, so that counsel on the other side can't part you from
it, though he shakes you like a dog does a rat,--and one has to get
oneself up ready for all that, you know, Mr. Trewillian,--as I was
saying, one can't count one's shillings when one has such a job as
this in hand. Clench your nail;--that's what I say; be it even so.
Clench your nail;--that's what you've got to do."
"I dare say we shan't quarrel about the money, Mr. Bozzle."
"Oh dear no. I find I never has any words about the money. But
there's that one question. There's a young Mr. Stanbury has gone
down, as knows all about it. What's he up to?"
"He's my particular friend," said Trevelyan.
"Oh--h. He do know all about it, then?"
"We needn't talk about that, if you please, Mr. Bozzle."
"Because there was words between him and the Colonel upon the
platform;--and very angry words. The young man went at the Colonel
quite open-mouthed,--savage-like. It's not the way such things should
be done, Mr. Trewillian; and though of course it's not for me to
speak;--she's your lady,--still, when you has got a thing of this
kind in hand, one head is better than a dozen. As for myself,
Mr. Trewillian, I never wouldn't look at a case,--not if I knew
it,--unless I was to have it all to myself. But of course there was
no bargain, and so I says nothing."
After considerable delay the bill was made out on the spot, Mr.
Bozzle copying down the figures painfully from his memorandum-book,
with his head much inclined on one side. Trevelyan asked him, almost
in despair, to name the one sum; but this Bozzle declined to do,
saying that right was right. He had a scale of pilfering of his own,
to which he had easily reconciled his conscience; and beyond that
he prided himself on the honesty of his accounts. At last the bill
was made out, was paid, and Bozzle was gone. Trevelyan, when he was
alone, threw himself back on a sofa, and almost wept in despair. To
what a depth of degradation had he not been reduced!