An Interview with a Secretary of State.—Sir Francis Hartleton’s
Difficulties.
In order to explain the cause of the singular interruption which
occurred to the festive scene at the Chequers, we must glance at the
proceedings of Sir Francis Hartleton for the preceding two days.
We have before hinted at the very awkward position in which Sir Francis
Hartleton was placed as a magistrate, having suspicions of the very
strongest mature for suspecting some foul crime on the parts of
Learmont, Andrew Britton, and the man Gray, of whose existence and
identification with the third in the iniquitous proceeding he had only
lately had good reason to believe, and yet such suspicions not assuming
a sufficiently tangible form to enable him to found a charge upon him.
At the same time, working as he was in the dark in trying to unravel a
plot the intricacies of which seemed to him to increase instead of
diminish as he dived into it, he never knew but what some false step of
his—some effort of over-zeal might put the guilty parties not only on
their guard of him particularly, but might set them to work to take
more effectual steps than they had hitherto done for the suppression of
every particle of tangible evidence against them, but might likewise
induce deeper and blacker crimes than any they had yet attempted or
committed for the preservation of secrets essential to their existence.
Thus it was that although Sir Francis Hartleton had a strong perception
of the main facts of the case he had in hand as regarded the guilt of
Learmont, yet he felt that he could not be too cautious in what he said
or did consequent thereon, until some circumstance should arise to give
a direct clue to such a chain of evidence as should enable him at once
to pounce upon them all, and insure their condemnation on irrefragible
proofs.
After his first interview with Albert Seyton, he had carefully made a
narrative of all the circumstances connected with the affair, and as it
will be recollected that by that interview, he was enabled to place
together the names of Gray, Britton, and Learmont, in such a manner as
to be certain that they were then, or had been, engaged in some great
act of villany together, he was in a much better situation for arriving
at a correct conclusion with regard to the various circumstances that
came crowding upon his recollection.
That some crime, most probably a murder, had been committed so many
years ago when he, a young man, having more passion and impetuosity
than discretion, resided in the village of Learmont on the night of the
fire at the Old Smithy, he never entertained a doubt, and the
probability that had he been a private individual and not an open enemy
as it were of Learmont’s, he would have made some effort of perhaps a
hazardous and illegal nature to obtain satisfaction on the affair.
Sir Francis, however, was one of those who felt deeply the
responsibilities of the situation in which he was placed as one of the
ministers of justice, and he would have considered himself as quite
unfit for so onerous an office had he acted from impulse instead of
reflection in the prosecution of evil-doers. Thus, although ferretting
the while, he waited until something should occur to point him a clear
and consistent path in the investigation.
His own suspicions were simply these. That Learmont had, by the
assistance of the savage smith and the man who had rushed from the
burning house with the child, committed some great crime for the sake
either of stilling for ever some evidence of preceding criminality, or
for some then present gains or pecuniary advantage, and hence Andrew
Britton’s constant visits to Learmont were for probable claims upon his
purse.
That Jacob Gray was the man who had so rushed from the burning smithy,
and that Ada was the child he had in his arms, Sir Francis, after what
was related to him by Albert Seyton, felt almost assured of, and that
both Gray and Britton were now preying upon Learmont, he felt convinced.
All this, however, did not amount to much, and although greatly
strengthening his own previous suspicions of foul play somewhere,
afforded him no information as a magistrate. He could make no specific
charge against Learmont. He had nothing to say to Britton, and Gray he
had never been able to catch hold of, or he would have made an attempt
to possess himself of the papers addressed to him, which he thought
more than probably contained ample information.
He was likewise moved strongly by the picture Albert Seyton had drawn
of the persecutions endured by Ada, and setting apart all other
considerations, he was most anxious to rescue her from the ills by
which she was surrounded.
Thus he wanted to discover two things principally. The one was what
crime had been committed at the Old Smithy; and the other was,
presuming Ada to be the child seen on that memorable occasion—who was
she?
To neither of these questions could he give himself a rational answer,
and he was therefore forced to endeavour to comfort himself in the
affair by setting a watch over Britton, another on Learmont, and making
what exertions he could himself to ferret out the abode of Jacob Gray,
without exciting the suspicions of Learmont.
Several times the thought of an active search in the ruins of the Old
Smithy at Learmont had suggested itself to his mind, but had been
rejected upon the conviction that such a proceeding would be very
public, and could not be undertaken by him as a magistrate, without
some valid previous excuse.
On the day, however, that he considered himself so fortunate as to have
unearthed Jacob Gray, and to have him all but in his grasp, Sir Francis
Hartleton resolved to bring affairs to some sort of crisis, and adopt
reluctantly the only plan that presented itself to him, of securing the
safety of Ada and the punishment of two out of three criminals, and
that was to arrest Britton on that day, and, confronting him with Gray,
induce a clear confession from one or the other of them, under a
promise of relief from capital punishment.
He, acting upon this feeling, procured ample assistance, and previous
to starting for Gray’s house in the marshes of Battersea, he instructed
one of his experienced officers to make sure of the rapture of Britton
before night.
His disappointment at Forest’s house we are aware of, and immediately
upon his return, he was careful to countermand the order for Britton’s
arrest. This countermand, however, was given to an officer who was
seriously hurt in a common street affray before he could communicate
his message to him who had the particular charge to capture the smith.
Hence it arose that Sir Francis Hartleton was not aware that measures
were taking to apprehend Britton, until it was almost too late to
prevent it. He, nevertheless, made the attempt, and was as we have
seen, just in time personally to stop the arrest, for it was he himself
who cried “No!” in the parlour of the Chequers, being this time
effectually disguised from the observation of Britton.
Sir Francis then immediately returned to his own house, where he had
not long been, when he heard rapidly, one after the other, of the two
astounding events of the fire at the lone house by Battersea, and the
denunciation of a man, by a young and beautiful girl, near Charing
Cross, as a murderer.
The thought immediately flashed across his mind that this man must be
Jacob Gray, and his accuser the persecuted Ada. A very short time, as
we are aware, convinced him that his suspicions were well-founded, and
his main cause of anxiety being removed, he now resolved to lend all
his energies to discover who Ada was, and bring home the crimes of
Learmont and his associates to them.
The whole affair had now assumed so new and troublesome an aspect, that
Sir Francis Hartleton thought it necessary to apply to the Secretary of
State for sanction to the proceedings he might wish to adopt.
His wish was that the pursuit after Jacob Gray might not be active, but
that he should be rather left alone for a time, under a strict
surveillance, to see what he would do, and how far he might commit his
associates by visits and communication with them. He likewise wished
the case of Andrew Britton to be entirely left in his hands, for the
violent proceedings of the savage smith had begun to excite the
attention of others of the local authorities, and he, Sir Francis
Hartleton, was fearful that some imprudent step might be taken by some
other magistrate concerning Britton and his mysterious wealth, which
might alarm Learmont before he wished him to be at all alarmed.
With these views and feelings, Sir Francis Hartleton repaired to the
Secretary of State, with whom he had an immediate interview, and to
whom he carefully detailed all the circumstances which were within his
knowledge, concerning Ada and her fortunes, from the night of the fire
at the Old Smithy at Learmont, to the time when she had taken refuge at
his house, concluding by saying,—
“Sir, I have, from a record of all the circumstances, the strongest
reason to believe that this young girl is the same, who, when an
infant, was carried from the burning ruins by the blood-stained
shrieking man, but still I have no proof; I believe that Jacob Gray is
that man, but still I have no proof; I believe that a murder was
committed that night at the smithy, but still I have no proof; and
moreover, by Gray’s subsequent crimes, we are now entirely cut off from
offering him any merciful consideration for a full and free confession
of the whole of the circumstances, and Britton, I fear, is not the man
to confess at all; if he were, he is most probably awfully and deeply
implicated. Therefore, what I wish of you, sir, is authority to stop
proceedings against Gray, for the present, and to leave him at large
until I procure some more tangible information concerning all these
mysteries, always promising that I can arrest him at any time I please.”
“Upon my word,” said the secretary, scratching his chin, “it’s a very
disagreeable and awkward affair. This Learmont has promised us no less
than seven votes in the Commons.”
“Has he, sir?”
“Yes, and you see—really seven votes—are—are—in point of fact, seven
votes.”
“He procures them of course by nominating members of his properties?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then, sir, should all that property be wrested from him by a
conviction for felony, those votes and qualifications must revert to
the crown.”
“Upon my word that’s true; I dare say he’s a very great rogue; don’t
make a disturbance for nothing, Sir Francis, but you can take the
authority you require. Of course, the votes are more useful to us in
our hands than coming through his; but the family may not be extinct.”
“Still, sir, we cannot smother this affair; justice must be done.”
“Of course, I know all that; the majesty of justice must be upheld;
only, you see, seven votes are something, and I only mentioned how
awkward it is—I may say confoundedly awkward—for we have scarcely a
majority: but, however, you may take your authority, Sir Francis.”