Now, the very same character might be given of Mr. Peter Tims of
Clement's Inn, attorney-at-law, as that which Voltaire,
in his _Discours à l'Academie_, gives of the President de
Montesquieu--"C'etoit un génie mâle et rapide qui approfondit tout en
paraissant tout effleurer;" and in several of his late conversations
with Lord Ashborough, he had penetrated into the depths of that
nobleman's thoughts and feelings, while he seemed to give implicit
credit to his lightest words, He saw, therefore, that there were two
strong principles which worked the whole machine; the chief springs,
as it were, of all his lordship's conduct, at least on the present
occasion. The one of these principles was, it is true, a little
stronger than the other; and the two were, revenge and avarice; the
latter succumbing somewhat to the former, but both at present working
very well together.
There are certain classes of passions and vices which people often
find an excuse for indulging, by persuading themselves that they are
invariably connected with some great or noble feeling or other. Now,
of this character is revenge, which men are apt to fancy must be the
offspring of a generous and vehement heart, and a fine, determined,
sensitive mind. But this is all a mistake. Revenge, in the abstract,
is merely a prolongation throughout a greater space in time, of that
base selfishness which leads us to feel a momentary impulse to strike
any thing that hurts or pains us either mentally or corporeally; and
the more brutal, and animal and beast-like be the character of the
person, the greater will be his disposition to revenge. But we must
speak one moment upon its modifications. Revenge always proceeds
either from a sense of real injury, or a feeling of wounded vanity. It
seldom, however, arises from any real injury; and where it does, it
would (if possible to justify it at all), be more justifiable; but, in
this modification, a corrective is often found in the great mover of
man's heart; and vanity itself whispers, it will seem nobler and more
generous to forgive. The more ordinary species of revenge, however,
and the more filthy, is that which proceeds from wounded vanity--when
our pride or our conceit has been greatly hurt--not alone in the eyes
of the world, but in our own eyes--when the little internal idol that
we have set up to worship in our own hearts, has been pulled down from
the throne of our idolatry, and we have been painfully shown that it
is nothing but a thing of gilt wood. Then, indeed, revenge, supported
by the great mover of man's heart, instead of being corrected by it,
is insatiable and everlasting. But in all cases, instead of being
connected with any great quality, it is the fruit of a narrow mind,
and a vain, selfish heart.
The latter of the two modifications was that which affected Lord
Ashborough, and it had remained with him through life; but Mr. Tims
very evidently saw, that as soon as his lordship imagined his revenge
to have nothing left to feed upon, it of course became extinct; and
that his own employment, at least, in any very extensive business, as
far as Lord Ashborough was concerned, would be at an end. The avarice,
too, would come into play; and the worthy lawyer perceived that it was
necessary to keep alive his appetite for vengeance, and at the same
time to take care that his admirable patron's avarice should be broken
in to run in harness with his own.
These were his motives for suggesting the course of proceeding which
he had insinuated might be pursued, although he felt very doubtful as
to the legal possibility of carrying on the matter exactly as
prosperously as he had taught his patron to believe. At all events, he
felt that this was his best chance, not only of keeping possession of
the money he had already got, but of obtaining the twelve thousand
pounds more, which, together with the rest of his uncle's property, he
felt would raise him to a station in society in which he might--not
pause--but make more still.
After satisfying the cravings of hunger, therefore, and thinking that
the time might soon come when the earl himself would find it necessary
to treat him with more attention, Mr. Tims got into his chaise,
humming the chorus of the Little Ploughboy--
"So great a man--so great a man--so great a man I'll be!"
And once more rolled away toward Emberton, resolved instantly to see
Sir Sidney Delaware, and embroil the whole affair as much as possible.
His clerk had been left behind at the little town to take care of the
business during his absence; and although it was late ere the lawyer
returned, he instantly set him to work to prepare notices to all the
tenants of Sir Sidney Delaware not to pay their rents. This he knew
was a bold stroke; but looking upon the unhappy baronet as an enemy in
time of war, he knew that one great object was to cut off his
supplies. Early the next morning Mr. Tims sallied forth to make a
general round of the tenants, and proceeded to a farmhouse, from the
crowded stackyard and busy aspect of which he argued a large and
prosperous farm. The farmer himself appeared superintending the
thatching in the yard; and Mr. Tims, notice in hand, stepped up to
him, and informed him of his business.
As the honest man read, his mouth expanded wide across his rosy face,
with a grin of satisfaction, which Mr. Tims remarked as something
extraordinary, at least. "Sorry, sir, I can't oblige you!" said the
farmer, eyeing him with a look of merry contempt; "I paid my rent to
Sir Sidney yesterday morning. I thought just now--as he is in trouble
I hear with some bit of a blackguard lawyer of the name of Tims--he
might want the money, you know. So I took it up to the good lady's
house where he is stopping, seeing it was due on the twenty-fifth o'
last month."
"Oh, you have paid it, have you?" said Mr. Tims. "Then, I can tell
you, most likely you will have it to pay over again."
"Pay it over again!" cried the farmer, who easily divined who the
person was that spoke to him. "Pay it over again! Come, come, none of
your gammon, master, or I'll break your head for you, and that is all
the payment you'll get from me. Who should I pay my rent to but my own
landlord I add a good landlord he has always been, and a kind--never
racked us up to the last farthing, like some o' them, though he wanted
the money enough himself. I'll tell you what, you had better not say a
word against him or his--and if you be one of Lawyer Tims's clerks,
bid him not show his face among us here, or he'll get such a licking
as will serve him for a long while."
While this conversation was proceeding between Mr. Peter Tims and the
farmer, a considerable number of the farm-servants had gathered round
their master, and very unequivocal signs and symptom were given as to
their sense of the matter. Various words, too, were heard, which
sounded harsh upon the tympanum of Peter Tims's ear, such as--"I
shouldn't wonder if it were Lawyer Tims himself--A looks like a
lawyer--let's duck um in the horsepond--or cart him into the muck."
Now Peter Tims was, in a certain degree, a coward; and although he
could have made up his mind to be knocked down by the farmer for the
sake of a good assault case, yet the idea of being "ducked in the
horsepond, or carted into the muck," by a body of persons who could
not afford to pay a sous for their morning's amusement, made him beat
a retreat as fast as possible.
Although Mr. Peter Tims proceeded _seriatim_ to each of the tenants on
the Emberton estate, it may be unnecessary to detail the particulars
of the various receptions he met with. Suffice it, that he found that
in one respect they all agreed, which was, that their rent, by a
general arrangement between them, had been paid up the day before,
which, though the money was really due, was about ten days before the
usual time. Although he occasionally met with a somewhat rough
reception, and declared that he had never seen a more rude and uncivil
set of people in his life, yet he escaped without any actual violence;
and in the end, hoping to gain at least some ground, he determined to
make his last visit to Sir Sidney Delaware himself.
Accustomed to do disagreeable things of all kinds, Mr. Tims had as
little respect for human feelings as most men; but still there was
something in his peculiar situation with regard to Sir Sidney Delaware
that in some degree awed even his worldly heart. He was going to force
himself into the presence of a man, whose destruction he was pursuing
eagerly, on the most base and sordid motives. That, however, was
nothing new; but we must recollect that Mr. Tims really supposed the
son of him he was about to visit had murdered in cold blood his last
relation; and, with that belief there mingled both the internal
conviction that his own arts had driven the unfortunate young man to
commit the horrid deed which had been perpetrated at Ryebury, and the
remembrance that he himself, Peter Tims, was even then straining every
nerve to bring to an ignominious death him whom his machinations had
hurried into the most fearful of human crimes, and whose father he was
still urging onward to ruin and despair. All these feelings and
remembrances made the business very different from any he had before
undertaken, and the lawyer's heart even fluttered as the chaise drove
through the gates of the dwelling now occupied by Mrs. Darlington. "It
is odd enough," he thought, "that my delaying the payment of the money
should have caused my uncle's murder. Now, if I were superstitious, I
should take fright and not follow this business up, for fear it should
turn out ill likewise--but that is all nonsense;" and when the chaise
stopped, and a servant appeared, he boldly demanded to speak with Sir
Sidney Delaware.
"Sir Sidney Delaware is not here, sir," replied the man, abruptly.
"Not here!" cried Mr. Tims. "Not here! And pray, where is he, then?"
"Can't tell, sir!" replied the man.
"But he was here?" rejoined the lawyer. "Oh, yes, sir, he was here,"
was the reply.
"When did he go?"
"Yesterday."
"Where to?"
"I don't know."
"Is your mistress at home!" demanded Mr. Tims, at length, finding that
there was nothing to be made of the footman. The answer was in the
affirmative; and Mr. Peter Tims was shown into an empty room, where
the servant took the precaution of demanding his name, and then went
to inform his mistress. After remaining for some time in expectation,
Mr. Tims was rejoined by the servant; but, instead of ushering the
lawyer to Mrs. Darlington's presence, he said, with a grave and solemn
aspect, "Sir, my mistress bids me inform you that she is busy at
present, and can not receive you."
"Oh, if she is busy, I can wait!" answered Mr. Tims, relapsing
determinedly into his chair.
"You may wait all day for that matter," replied the man, losing
patience; "for I can tell you she does not intend to see you at all.
So now you have the plain English of it!"
"Very extraordinary conduct, I must say!" observed Mr. Tims, as with
slow and indignant steps he walked toward his chaise.
"And pray, are you really ignorant of Sir Sidney Delaware's present
abode?" he added, after having insinuated his hand into his pocket,
and drawn forth a broad silver piece, which he thought fully
sufficient to tempt the discretion of any Johnny, even if he were as
immaculate as Eve before the fall.
But the servant either would not tell, or could not, because he did
not know: the latter of which was the most probable, as he answered
sharply, as if angry at losing the money through his ignorance, "You
have had your answer once, sir," he said, "and I shall give you no
other;" and with this ungracious reply, Mr. Tims was obliged to
content himself.
The chaise rolled him back hungry and dissatisfied to Emberton, where
the tidings he had so often before received, that the pursuit of
Captain Delaware had not advanced a single step, did not tend to
relieve him. He found, too, that Sir Sidney and Miss Delaware had
certainly not returned to their own dwelling, and his inquiry in
regard to whither they had gone when they left Mrs. Darlington's, only
served to make the people of the town open wide their nostrils,
showing plainly that the baronet's departure must have been secret
indeed, as it had escaped the all-inquiring eyes and ears of that
gossiping community.
If any thing could have soothed the mind of Mr. Tims, it would have
been, perhaps, the profound respect of the landlord of the King's
Arms--he, Mr. Tims, being in no degree insensible to the charms of
importance and high station, and enjoying the homage of mine host as a
sort of foretaste of the increased consequence he was to possess in
society, from his accession to his unfortunate uncle's ill-gotten
wealth.
His dinner comforted him also greatly; and when, after that meal was
discussed, the landlord presented himself in person to ask whether he
might not recommend his admirable port, Mr. Tims, after an internal
struggle, acquiesced, and the wine was accordingly produced.
"Pray, landlord," said the lawyer, after a few words of innkeeper
gossip had passed, while with a clean napkin he rubbed the outside of
the decanter; "pray who was that gentleman standing at the door as I
got out, who stared at me so hard? The gentleman in the black coat and
gray trowsers."
"Oh, sir!" replied mine host of the King's Arms, "don't you know? That
is Mr. Cousins, the officer from London, come to inquire into this sad
business!"
"Why, Ruthven was sent for, and came, too; for I saw and spoke to him
long!" ejaculated Mr. Tims, in some surprise.
"True, sir! True!" replied the landlord. "But Ruthven was sent after
the captain, you know; and Dr. Wilton thought it would be better to
have some one else down to keep about the place; so Cousins was sent
for, and has been here all day--that is to say, about the place; for
he was both up at Emberton and at Ryebury, I heard the waiter saying."
"At Emberton!" cried Mr. Tims. "Then, I dare say, he can tell me
something of the people there. Will you have the goodness to present
my compliments to him, and say, I should be happy if he will take a
glass of wine with me?"
"Certainly, sir! Certainly!" replied the landlord; and away he went in
embassage to Cousins, who soon after was ushered into the private
apartment occupied by Peter Tims, Esq.
He was--or rather is--neither a very tall, nor a very stout man; but
yet, in the various points of his frame, there is a good deal of solid
strength to be remarked; and in his face, which is pale, and somewhat
saturnine, Mr. Tims thought he could trace a great deal of resolution,
mingled with that shrewd knowledge of human nature in its most debased
form, which is at once necessary to, and inseparable from, the
character of an officer of police. The lawyer, seeing that the officer
was a very gentlemanly person in his appearance, soon made sufficient
advances; and, being seated together over their wine, Mr. Tims
inquired whether his companion had heard any thing of the family at
Emberton.
"No, no," he said, in a tone which appeared habitually guarded against
all inquiries, except from those authorized to squeeze the contents
out of the sponge of his mind. "No, no," he said--"I have heard
nothing of them at all."
"Come, come, now, Mr. Cousins!" said the lawyer, who well entered into
the spirit of the wariness displayed by his companion; "you know I am
interested in this business!"
"Yes--so I hear, sir," replied Cousins, without a word more.
"Well, well, then, be a little more communicative, Mr. Cousins,"
rejoined the lawyer. "Did you see any of the family at the Park?"
"No," answered the officer; "they were all away!"
"But did not the old woman--the housekeeper--or cook--or
something--tell you where they had gone to!" demanded the lawyer.
"There was no old housekeeper there," answered the officer. "They were
all away together, and the house shut up."
Mr. Tims was beaten out of his impassibility, and absolutely stared.
"But surely you know where they are gone to--or, at least, you guess?"
he said, after a pause.
"Why, I may guess, to be sure," replied Cousins; "but that is nothing
to nobody, you know. If one were to tell every thing they guess, sir,
not one-half of their guesses would come true!"
Mr. Tims paused for a minute or two, seeing that, for some reason,
Cousins was resolute in not saying a word upon the affairs of Sir
Sidney Delaware; and, therefore, like a good tactician, finding the
enemy's position impregnable in front, he determined to shift his
ground, and make an attack from another quarter. "You have been, I
hear, at my poor, unhappy uncle's place at Ryebury, too?" said Mr.
Tims, at length. "Did you make any new discoveries? Fill your glass,
Mr. Cousins."
"None that I know of, sir," replied Cousins, answering the question,
and obeying the command at the same time. "The house was just as it
was left, I fancy."
"But did you find nothing that might lead to the detection of the
murderer?" said Mr. Tims.
"Why, sir, I understood that you had detected the murderer yourself,"
answered the officer; "and that his name was Captain William
Delaware."
"Yes, yes! that is all true enough," rejoined the lawyer; "but I mean,
did you find no new proof against him."
"Why, as to that, sir, I did not find any in particular," replied
Cousins. "Indeed, the only thing of which I found any positive proof
at all, was that somebody had been murdered."
"The man is a fool!" thought Mr. Peter Tims--"a natural!" But yet
there was a small, twinkling, subdued sort of fun lurking about the
corners of Cousins's dark eyes, that caused the lawyer strongly to
suspect that the officer was making a jest of him, and he consequently
found himself waxing vastly indignant. His anger, however, led him
into no extravagance; and, after having put a variety of other
questions to his companion, who did not choose to give a
straightforward answer to any of them, his wrath assumed the form of
sullen silence, which he expected would soon be received as a hint to
retire.
In this he was mistaken. Cousins remained with outstretched feet and
emulative silence, filling his glass unbidden, with a fond reliance on
the generosity of the lawyer's disposition, for all which he was
heartily given to the devil full a dozen times within the next
half-hour. At the end of that period, the landlord again appeared at
the door, and gave Mr. Cousins a nod. The officer immediately started
upon his feet, and wishing Mr. Tims good-night, with many thanks for
his kind condescension, he followed mine host out of the room.