FACT, OR FACTOR
“Papa, I have brought you a wonderful letter,” cried Miss Janetta
Upround, toward supper-time of that same night; “and the most miraculous
thing about it is that there is no post to pay. Oh, how stupid I am! I
ought to have got at least a shilling out of you for postage.”
“My dear, be sorry for your sins, and not for having failed to add to
them. Our little world is brimful of news just now, but nearly all of
it bad news. Why, bless me, this is in regular print, and it never has
passed through the post at all, which explains the most astounding fact
of positively naught to pay. Janetta, every day I congratulate myself
upon such a wondrous daughter. But I never could have hoped that even
you would bring me a letter gratis.”
“But the worst of it is that I deserve no credit. If I had cheated the
postman, there would have been something to be proud of. But this letter
came in the most ignominious way--poked under the gate, papa! It is
sealed with a foreign coin! Oh, dear, dear, I am all in a tingle to know
all about it. I saw it by the moonlight, and it must belong to me.”
“My dear, it says, 'Private, and to his own hands.' Therefore you had
better go, and think no more about it. I confide to you many of my
business matters: or at any rate you get them out of me: but this being
private, you must think no more about it.”
“Darling papa, what a flagrant shame! The man must have done it with
no other object than to rob me of every wink of sleep. If I swallow the
outrage and retire, will you promise to tell me every word to-morrow?
You preached a most exquisite sermon last Sunday about the meanness and
futility of small concealments.”
“Be off!” cried the rector; “you are worse than Mr. Mordacks, who lays
down the law about frankness perpetually, but never lets me guess what
his own purpose is.”
“Oh, now I see where the infection comes from! Papa, I am off, for fear
of catching it myself. Don't tell me, whatever you do. I never can sleep
upon dark mysteries.”
“Poor dear, you shall not have your rest disturbed,” Dr. Upround said,
sweetly, as he closed the door behind her; “you are much too good a
girl for other people's plagues to visit you.” Then, as he saddled his
pleasant old nose with the tranquil span of spectacles, the smile on his
lips and the sigh of his breast arrived at a quiet little compromise. He
was proud of his daughter, her quickness and power to get the upper
turn of words with him; but he grieved at her not having any deep
impressions, even after his very best sermons. But her mother always
told him not to be in any hurry, for even she herself had felt no very
profound impressions until she married a clergyman; and that argument
always made him smile (as invisibly as possible), because he had not
detected yet their existence in his better half. Such questions are
most delicate, and a husband can only set mute example. A father, on
the other hand, is bound to use his pastoral crook upon his children
foremost.
“Now for this letter,” said Dr. Upround, holding council with himself;
“evidently a good clerk, and perhaps a first-rate scholar. One of the
very best Greek scholars of the age does all his manuscript in printing
hand, when he wishes it to be legible. And a capital plan it is--without
meaning any pun. I can read this like a gazette itself.”
“REVEREND AND WORSHIPFUL SIR,--Your long and highly valued kindness
requires at least a word from me, before I leave this country. I have
not ventured into your presence, because it might place you in a very
grave predicament. Your duty to King and State might compel you with
your own hand to arrest me; and against your hand I could not strive.
The evidence brought before you left no choice but to issue a warrant
against me, though it grieved your kind heart to do that same. Sir, I
am purely innocent of the vile crime laid against me. I used no fire-arm
that night, neither did any of my men. And it is for their sake, as well
as my own, that I now take the liberty of writing this. Failing of me,
the authorities may bring my comrades to trial, and convict them. If
that were so, it would become my duty as a man to surrender myself,
and meet my death in the hope of saving them. But if the case is sifted
properly, they must be acquitted; for no fire-arm of any kind was in my
boat, except one pair of pistols, in a locker under the after thwart,
and they happened to be unloaded. I pray you to verify this, kind sir.
My firm belief is that the revenue officer was shot by one of his own
men; and his widow has the same opinion. I hear that the wound was in
the back of the head. If we had carried fire-arms, not one of us could
have shot him so.
“It may have been an accident; I can not say. Even so, the man whose
mishap it was is not likely to acknowledge it. And I know that in a
court of law truth must be paid for dearly. I venture to commit to your
good hands a draft upon a well-known Holland firm, which amounts to 78
pounds British, for the defense of the men who are in custody. I know
that you as a magistrate can not come forward as their defender; but
I beg you as a friend of justice to place the money for their benefit.
Also especially to direct attention to the crew of the revenue boat and
their guns.
“And now I fear greatly to encroach upon your kindness, and very
long-suffering good-will toward me. But I have brought into sad trouble
and distress with her family--who are most obstinate people--and with
the opinion of the public, I suppose, a young lady worth more than all
the goods I ever ran, or ever could run, if I went on for fifty years.
By name she is Mistress Mary Anerley, and by birth the daughter of
Captain Anerley, of Anerley Farm, outside our parish. If your reverence
could only manage to ride round that way upon coming home from Sessions,
once or twice in the fine weather, and to say a kind word or two to my
Mary, and a good word, if any can be said of me, to her parents, who are
stiff but worthy people, it would be a truly Christian act, and such as
you delight in, on this side of the Dane-dike.
“Reverend sir, I must now say farewell. From you I have learned almost
everything I know, within the pale of statutes, which repeal one another
continually. I have wandered sadly outside that pale, and now I pay the
penalty. If I had only paid heed to your advice, and started in business
with the capital acquired by free trade, and got it properly protected,
I might have been able to support my parents, and even be churchwarden
of Flamborough. You always told me that my unlawful enterprise must
close in sadness; and your words have proved too true. But I never
expected anything like this; and I do not understand it yet. A
penetrating mind like yours, with all the advantages of authority, even
that is likely to be baffled in such a difficult case as this.
“Reverend sir, my case is hard; for I always have labored to establish
peaceful trade; and I must have succeeded again, if honor had guided all
my followers. We always relied upon the coast-guard to be too late for
any mischief; and so they would have been this time, if their acts had
been straightforward. In sorrow and lowness of fortune, I remain, with
humble respect and gratitude, your Worship's poor pupil and banished
parishioner,
“ROBIN LYTH, of Flamborough.”
“Come, now, Robin,” Dr. Upround said, as soon as he had well considered
this epistle, “I have put up with many a checkmate at your hands, but
not without the fair delight of a counter-stroke at the enemy. Here you
afford me none of that. You are my master in every way; and quietly you
make me make your moves, quite as if I were the black in a problem.
You leave me to conduct your fellow-smugglers' case, to look after your
sweetheart, and to make myself generally useful. By-the-way, that touch
about my pleading his cause in my riding-boots, and with a sessional
air about me, is worthy of the great Verdoni. Neither is that a bad hit
about my Christianity stopping at the Dane-dike. Certes, I shall have
to call on that young lady, though from what I have heard of the sturdy
farmer, I may both ride and reason long, even after my greatest exploits
at the Sessions, without converting him to free trade; and trebly so
after that deplorable affair. I wonder whether we shall ever get to the
bottom of that mystery. How often have I warned the boy that mischief
was quite sure to come! though I never even dreamed that it would be so
bad as this.”
Since Dr. Upround first came to Flamborough, nothing (not even the
infliction of his nickname) had grieved him so deeply as the sad death
of Carroway. From the first he felt certain that his own people were
guiltless of any share in it. But his heart misgave him as to distant
smugglers, men who came from afar freebooting, bringing over ocean
woes to men of settlement, good tithe-payers. For such men (plainly of
foreign breed, and very plain specimens of it) had not at all succeeded
in eluding observation, in a neighborhood where they could have no
honest calling. Flamborough had called to witness Filey, and Filey had
attested Bridlington, that a stranger on horseback had appeared among
them with a purpose obscurely evil. They were right enough as to the
fact, although the purpose was not evil, as little Denmark even now
began to own.
“Here I am again!” cried Mr. Mordacks, laying vehement hold of the
rector's hand, upon the following morning; “just arrived from York, dear
sir, after riding half the night, and going anywhere you please; except
perhaps where you would like to send me, if charity and Christian
courtesy allowed. My dear sir, have you heard the news? I perceive by
your countenance that you have not. Ah, you are generally benighted in
these parts. Your caves have got something to do with it. The mind gets
accustomed to them.”
“I venture to think, Mr. Mordacks, on the whole,” said the rector,
who studied this man gently, “that sometimes you are rapid in your
conclusions. Possibly of the two extremes it is the more desirable;
especially in these parts, because of its great rarity. Still the mere
fact of some caves existing, in or out of my parish, whichever it may
be, scarcely seems to prove that all the people of Flamborough live in
them. And even if we did, it was the manner of the ancient seers, both
in the Classics, and in Holy Writ--”
“Sir, I know all about Elijah and Obadiah, and the rest of them. Profane
literature we leave now for clerks in holy orders--we positively have no
time for it. Everything begins to move with accelerated pace. This is a
new century, and it means to make its mark. It begins very badly; but
it will go on all the better. And I hope to have the pleasure, at a
very early day, of showing you one of its leading men, a man of large
intellect, commanding character, the most magnificent principles--and,
in short, lots of money. You must be quite familiar with the name of Sir
Duncan Yordas.”
“I fancy that I have heard or seen it somewhere. Oh, something to do
with the Hindoos, or the Africans. I never pay much attention to such
things.”
“Neither do I, Dr. Upround. Still somebody must, and a lot of money
comes of it. Their idols have diamond eyes, which purity of worship
compels us to confiscate. And there are many other ways of getting on
among them, while wafting and expanding them into a higher sphere of
thought. The mere fact of Sir Duncan having feathered his nest--pardon
so vulgar an expression, doctor--proves that while giving, we may also
receive: for which we have the highest warranty.”
“The laborer is worthy of his hire, Mr. Mordacks. At the same time we
should remember also--”
“What St. Paul says per contra. Quite so. That is always my first
consideration, when I work for my employers. Ah, Dr. Upround, few men
give such pure service as your humble servant. I have twice had the
honor of handing you my card. If ever you fall into any difficulty,
where zeal, fidelity, and high principle, combined with very low
charges--”
“Mr. Mordacks, my opinion of you is too high for even yourself to add to
it. But what has this Sir Duncan Yorick--”
“Yordas, my dear sir--Sir Duncan Yordas--the oldest family in Yorkshire.
Men of great power, both for good and evil, mainly, perhaps, the latter.
It has struck me sometimes that the county takes its name--But etymology
is not my forte. What has he to do with us, you ask? Sir, I will answer
you most frankly. 'Coram populo' is my business motto. Excuse me,
I think I hear that door creak. No, a mere fancy--we are quite 'in
camera.' Very well; reverend sir, prepare your mind for a highly
astounding disclosure.”
“I have lived too long to be astounded, my good sir. But allow me to put
on my spectacles. Now I am prepared for almost anything.”
“Dr. Upround, my duty compels me to enter largely into minds. Your mind
is of a lofty order--calm, philosophic, benevolent. You have proved this
by your kind reception of me, a stranger, almost an intruder. You have
judged from my manners and appearance, which are shaped considerably by
the inner man, that my object was good, large, noble. And yet you have
not been quite able to refrain, at weak moments perhaps, but still a
dozen times a day, from exclaiming in the commune of your heart, 'What
the devil does this man want in my parish?'”
“My good sir, I never use bad language; and if I did my duty, I should
now inflict--”
“Five shillings for your poor-box. There it is. And it serves me quite
right for being too explicit, and forgetting my reverence to the
cloth. However, I have coarsely expressed your thoughts. Also you have
frequently said to yourself, 'This man prates of openness, but I find
him closer than any oyster.' Am I right? Yes, I see that I am, by
your bow. Very well, you may suppose what pain it gave me to have
the privilege of intercourse with a perfect gentleman and an eloquent
divine, and yet feel myself in an ambiguous position. In a few words I
will clear myself, being now at liberty to indulge that pleasure. I have
been here, as agent for Sir Duncan Yordas, to follow up the long-lost
clew to his son, and only child, who for very many years was believed
to be out of all human pursuit. My sanguine and penetrating mind scorned
rumors, and went in for certainty. I have found Sir Duncan's son, and
am able to identify him, beyond all doubt, as a certain young man well
known to you, and perhaps too widely known, by the name of Robin Lyth.”
In spite of the length of his experience of the world, in a place of so
many adventures, the rector of Flamborough was astonished, and perhaps
a little vexed as well. If anything was to be found out, in such a
headlong way, about one of his parishioners, and notably such a pet
pupil and favorite, the proper thing would have been that he himself
should do it. Failing that, he should at least have been consulted,
enlisted, or at any rate apprised of what was toward. But instead of
that, here he had been hoodwinked (by this marvel of incarnate candor
employed in the dark about several little things), and then suddenly
enlightened, when the job was done. Gentle and void of self-importance
as he was, it misliked him to be treated so.
“This is a wonderful piece of news,” he said, as he fixed a calm gaze
upon the keen, hard eyes of Mordacks. “You understand your business,
sir, and would not make such a statement unless you could verify it. But
I hope that you may not find cause to regret that you have treated me
with so little confidence.”
“I am not open to that reproach. Dr. Upround, consider my instructions.
I was strictly forbidden to disclose my object until certainty should
be obtained. That being done, I have hastened to apprise you first of
a result which is partly due to your own good offices. Shake hands,
my dear sir, and acquit me of rudeness--the last thing of which I am
capable.”
The rector was mollified, and gave his hand to the gallant general
factor. “Allow me to add my congratulations upon your wonderful
success,” he said; “but would that I had known it some few hours sooner!
It might have saved you a vast amount of trouble. I might have kept
Robin well within your reach. I fear that he is now beyond it.”
“I am grieved to hear you say so. But according to my last instructions,
although he is in strict concealment, I can lay hands upon him when the
time is ripe.”
“I fear not. He sailed last night for the Continent, which is a vague
destination, especially in such times as these. But perhaps that was
part of your skillful contrivance?”
“Not so. And for the time it throws me out. I have kept most careful
watch on him. But the difficulty was that he might confound my vigilance
with that of his enemies; take me for a constable, I mean. And perhaps
he has done so, after all. Things have gone luckily for me in the main;
but that murder came in most unseasonably. It was the very thing that
should have been avoided. Sir Duncan will need all his influence there.
Suppose for a moment that young Robin did not do it--”
“Mr. Mordacks, you frighten me. What else could you suppose?”
“Certainly--yes. A parishioner of yours, when not engaged unlawfully
upon the high seas. We heartily hope that he did not do it, and we give
him the benefit of the doubt; in which I shared largely, until it became
so manifest that he was a Yordas. A Yordas has made a point of slaying
his man--and sometimes from three to a dozen men--until within the last
two generations. In the third generation the law revives, as is hinted,
I think, in the Decalogue. In my professional course a large stock of
hereditary trail--so to speak--comes before me. Some families always
drink, some always steal, some never tell lies because they never know a
falsehood, some would sell their souls for a sixpence, and these are the
most respectable of any--”
“My dear sir, my dear sir, I beg your pardon for interrupting you; but
in my house the rule is to speak well of people, or else to say nothing
about them.”
“Then you must resign your commission, doctor; for how can you take
depositions? But, as I was saying, I should have some hope of the
innocence of young Robin if it should turn out that his father, Sir
Duncan, has destroyed a good many of the native race in India. It may
reasonably be hoped that he has done so, which would tend very strongly
to exonerate his son. But the evidence laid before your Worship and
before the coroner was black--black--black.”
“My position forbids me to express opinions. The evidence compelled me
to issue the warrant. But knowing your position, I may show you this, in
every word of which I have perfect faith.”
With these words Dr. Upround produced the letter which he had received
last night, and the general factor took in all the gist of it in less
than half a minute.
“Very good! very good!” he said, with a smile of experienced
benevolence. “We believe some of it. Our duty is to do so. There are two
points of importance in it. One as to the girl he is in love with, and
the other his kind liberality to the fellows who will have to bear the
brunt of it.”
“You speak sarcastically, and I hope unfairly. To my mind, the most
important facts are these--that poor Carroway was shot from behind, and
that the smugglers had no fire-arms, except two pistols, both unloaded.”
“Who is to prove that, Dr. Upround? Their mouths are closed; and if
they were open, would anybody believe them? We knew long ago that the
vigilant and deservedly lamented officer took the deathblow from behind;
but of that how simple is the explanation! The most intelligent of his
crew, and apparently his best subordinate, whose name is John Cadman,
deposes that his lamented chief turned round for one moment to give an
order, and during that moment received the shot. His evidence is the
more weighty because he does not go too far with it. He does not pretend
to say who fired. He knows only that one of the smugglers did. His
evidence will hang those six poor fellows, from the laudable desire of
the law to include the right one. But I trust that the right one will be
far away.”
“I trust not. If even one of them is condemned, even to transportation,
Robin Lyth will surrender immediately. You doubt it. You smile at the
idea. Your opinion of human nature is low. Mine is not enthusiastic. But
I judge others by myself.”
“So do I,” Mr. Mordacks answered, with a smile of curious humor. And the
rector could not help smiling too, at this instance of genuine candor.
“However, not to go too deeply into that,” his visitor continued, “there
really is one point in Robin's letter which demands inquiry. I mean
about the guns of the Preventive men. Cadman may be a rogue. Most
probably he is. None of the others confirm, although they do not
contradict him. Do you know anything about him?”
“Only villainy--in another way. He led away a nice girl of this parish,
an industrious mussel-gatherer. And he then had a wife and large family
of his own, of which the poor thing knew nothing. Her father nearly
killed him; and I was compelled (very much against my will) to inflict
a penalty. Cadman is very shy of Flamborough now. By-the-way, have you
called upon poor Widow Carroway?”
“I thank you for the hint. She is the very person. It will be a sad
intrusion; and I have put it off as long as possible. After what Robin
says, it is most important. I hope that Sir Duncan will be here very
shortly. He is coming from Yarmouth in his own yacht. Matters are
crowding upon me very fast. I will see Mrs. Carroway as soon as it is
decent. Good-morning, and best thanks to your Worship.”