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 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 protegee. 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 Nattee 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."