The friendship between Kossuth and Captain Maynard was of no common
character. It had not sprung out of a mere chance acquaintance, but
from circumstances calculated to cause mutual respect and admiration.
In Maynard, the illustrious Magyar saw a man like himself--devoted heart
and soul to the cause of liberty.
True, he had as yet done little for it. But this did not negative his
intention, fixed and fearless. Kossuth knew he had ventured out into
the storm to shake a hand with, and draw a sword in, his defence. Too
late for the battle-field, he had since defended him with his pen; and
in the darkest hour of his exile, when others stood aloof.
In Kossuth, Maynard recognised one of the "great ones of the world"--
great not only in deeds and thoughts, but in all the Divine attributes
of humanity--in short, goodly great.
It was in contemplating Kossuth's character, he first discovered the
falsity of the trite phrase, "Familiarity breeds contempt." Like most
proverbs, true only when applied to ordinary men and things. The
reverse with men truly great.
To his own valet Kossuth would have been a hero. Much more was he one
in the eyes of his friend.
The more Maynard knew of him, the more intimate their relationship
became, the less was he able to restrain his admiration.
He had grown not only to admire, but love him; and would have done for
him any service consistent with honour. Kossuth was not the man to
require more. Maynard was witness to the pangs of his exile, and
sympathised with him as a son, or brother. He felt indignant at the
scurvy treatment he was receiving, and from a people boastful of its
hospitality!
This indignation reached its highest, when on a certain day Kossuth,
standing in his studio, called his attention to a house on the opposite
side of the street, telling him it was inhabited by _spies_.
"Spies! What kind of spies?"
"Political, I suppose we may call them."
"My dear Governor, you must be mistaken! We have no such thing in
England. It would not be permitted for a moment--that is, if known to
the English people."
It was Maynard himself who was mistaken. He was but echoing the popular
boast and belief of the day.
There _were_ political spies for all that; though it was the supposed
era of their first introduction, and the thing was not known. It became
so afterward; and was permitted by this people--silently acquiesced in
by John Bull, according to his custom when any such encroachment is
made--so long as it does not increase the tax upon his beer.
"Whether known or not," answered the ex-Governor, "they are there. Step
forward to the window here, and I shall show you one of them."
Maynard joined Kossuth at the window, where he had been for a time
standing.
"You had better keep the curtain as a screen--if you don't wish to be
recognised."
"For what should I care?"
"Well, my dear captain, this is your own country. Your coming to my
house may compromise you. It will make you many powerful enemies."
"As for that, Governor, the thing's done already. All know me as your
friend."
"Only as my defender. All do not know you as a plotter and
conspirator--such as the _Times_ describes _me_."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the elect of a German revolutionary committee.
"Much do I care about that! Such a conspirator. I'd be only too proud
of the tide. Where is this precious spy?"
As Maynard put the question, he stepped on into the window, without
thinking of the curtain.
"Look up to that casement in the second storey," directed Kossuth; "the
cottage nearly opposite--first window from the corner. Do you see
anything there?"
"No; nothing but a Venetian blind."
"But the laths are apart. Can you see nothing behind them? I do
distinctly. The scoundrels are not cunning. They forget there's a back
light beyond, which enables me to take note of their movements."
"Ah!" said Maynard, still gazing. "Now I see. I can make out the
figure of a man seated or standing in the window."
"Yes; and there he is seated or standing all day; he or another. They
appear to take it in turns. At night they descend to the street. Don't
look any longer! He is watching us now; and it won't do to let him know
that he's suspected. I have my reasons for appearing ignorant of this
espionage."
Maynard, having put on a careless look, was about drawing back, when a
hansom cab drove up to the gate of the house opposite, discharging a
gentleman, who, furnished with a gate-key, entered without ringing the
bell.
"That," said Kossuth, "is the chief spy, who appears to employ a
considerable staff--among them a number of elegant ladies. My poor
concerns must cost your government a good sum."
Maynard was not attending to the remark. His thoughts, as well as eyes,
were still occupied with the gentleman who had got out of the cab; and
who, before disappearing behind the lilacs and laurels, was recognised
by him as his old antagonist, Swinton! Captain Maynard did that he had
before refused, and suddenly. He concealed himself behind the window
curtain! Kossuth observing it, inquired why?
"I chance to know the man," was Maynard's answer. "Pardon me, Governor,
for having doubted your word! I can believe _now_ what you've told me.
Spies! Oh! if the English people knew this! They would not stand it!"
"Dear friend! don't go into rhapsodies! They will stand it."
"But I won't!" cried Maynard, in a frenzy of indignation. "If I can't
reach the head of this fiendish conspiracy, I'll punish the tool thus
employed. Tell me, Governor, how long since these foul birds have built
their nest over there?"
"They came about a week ago. The house was occupied by a bank clerk--a
Scotchman, I believe--who seemed to turn out very suddenly. They
entered upon the same day."
"A week," said Maynard, reflecting. "That's well. _He_ cannot have
seen me. It's ten days since I was here--and--and--"
"What are you thinking of, my dear captain?" asked Kossuth, seeing that
his friend was engaged in deep cogitation.
"Of a _revanche_--a revenge, if you prefer having it in our vernacular."
"Against whom?"
"That scoundrel of a spy--the chief one. I know him of old. I've long
owed him a score on my own account; and I am now doubly in his debt on
yours, and that of my country--disgraced by this infamy!"
"And how would you act?"
Maynard did not make immediate answer. He was still reflecting.
"Governor!" he said, after a time, "you've told me that your guests are
followed by one or other of these fellows?"
"Always followed; on foot if they be walking; in a cab if riding. It is
a hansom cab that follows them--the same you saw just now. It is gone;
but only to the corner, where it is kept continually on the stand--its
driver having instructions to obey a signal."
"What sort of a signal?"
"It is made by the sounding of a shrill whistle--a dog-call."
"And who rides in the hansom?"
"One or other of the two fellows you have seen. In the day time it is
the one who occupies the blinded window; at night the duty is usually
performed by the gentleman just returned--your old acquaintance, as you
say."
"This will do!" said Maynard, in soliloquy.
Then, turning to Kossuth, he inquired:
"Governor! have you any objection to my remaining your guest till the
sun goes down, and a little after?"
"My dear captain! Why do you ask the question? You know how glad I
shall be of your company."
"Another question. Do you chance to have in your house such a thing as
a horsewhip?"
"My adjutant, Ihasz, has, I believe. He is devoted to hunting."
"Still another question. Is there among Madam's wardrobe half a yard of
black crape? A quarter of a yard will do."
"Ah!" sighed the exile, "my poor wife's wardrobe is all of that colour.
I'm sure she can supply you with plenty of crape. But say, _cher
capitaine_! what do you want with it?"
"Don't ask me to tell you, your Excellency--not now. Be so good as to
lend me those two things. To-morrow I shall return them; and at the
same time give you an account of the use I have made of them. If
fortune favour me, it will be then possible to do so."
Kossuth, perceiving that his friend was determined on reticence, did not
further press for an explanation.
He lit a long chibouque, of which some half-dozen--presents received
during his captivity at Kutayah, in Turkey--stood in a corner of the
room. Inviting Maynard to take one of them, the two sate smoking and
talking, till the light of a street-lamp flashing athwart the window,
told them the day was done.
"Now, Governor!" said Maynard, getting up out of his chair, "I've but
one more request to make of you--that you will send out your servant to
fetch me a cab."
"Of course," said Kossuth, touching a spring-bell that stood on the
table of his studio.
A domestic made appearance--a girl, whose stolid German physiognomy
Maynard seemed to distrust. Not that he disliked her looks; but she was
not the thing for his purpose.
"Does your Excellency keep a man-servant?" he asked. "Excuse me for
putting such a question?"
"Indeed, no, my dear captain! In my poor exiled state I do not feel
justified. If it is only to fetch a cab, Gertrude can do it. She
speaks English well enough for that." Maynard once more glanced at the
girl--still distrustingly. "Stay!" said Kossuth. "There's a man comes
to us in the evenings. Perhaps he is here now. Gertrude, is Karl
Steiner in the kitchen?"
"Ya," was the laconic answer.
"Tell him to come to me."
Gertrude drew back, perhaps wondering why _she_ was not considered smart
enough to be sent for a hackney.
"He's an intelligent fellow, this Karl," said Kossuth, after the girl
had gone out of the room. "He speaks English fluently, or you may talk
to him in French; and you can also trust him with your confidence."
Karl came in.
His looks did not belie the description the ex-governor had given of
him.
"Do you know anything of horses?" was the first question, put to him in
French.
"I have been ten years in the stables of Count Teleky. His Excellency
knows that."
"Yes, captain. This young man has been groom to our friend Teleky; and
you know the count's propensity for horseflesh."
Kossuth spoke of a distinguished Hungarian noble; then, like himself, a
refugee in London.
"Enough?" said Maynard, apparently satisfied that Steiner was his man.
"Now, Monsieur Karl, I merely want you to call me a cab."
"Which sort, _votre seigneurie_?" asked the ex-groom, giving the true
stable salute. "Hansom or four-wheeler?"
"Hansom," replied Maynard, pleased with the man's sharpness.
"_Tres bien_."
"And hear me, Monsieur Karl; I want you to select one with a horse that
can _go_. You understand me?"
"_Parfaitement_."
"When you've brought it to the gate, come inside here; and don't wait to
see me into it."
With another touch to his cap, Karl went off on his errand.
"Now, Governor?" said Maynard, "I must ask you to look up that horsewhip
and quarter-yard of crape."
Kossuth appeared in a quandary.
"I hope, captain," he said, "you don't intend any--"
"Excuse me, your Excellency," said Maynard, interrupting him. "I don't
intend anything that may compromise _you_. I have my own feelings to
satisfy in this matter--my own wrongs I might call them; more than
that--those of my country."
The patriotic speech went home to the Hungarian patriot's heart. He
made no farther attempt at appeasing the irate adventurer; but stepping
hastily out of the room, soon returned, carrying the crape and
horsewhip--the latter a true hound-scorer with buckhorn handle.
The gritting of wheels on the gravel told that the cab had drawn up
before the gate.
"Good-night, Governor!" said Maynard, taking the things from Kossuth's
hand. "If the _Times_ of to-morrow tells you of a gentleman having been
soundly horsewhipped, don't say it was I who did it."
And with this singular caution, Maynard made his adieus to the
ex-Dictator of Hungary!