The firm of Flint and Sharp enjoyed, whether deservedly or not, when I
was connected with it, as it still does, a high reputation for keen
practice and shrewd business-management. This kind of professional fame
is usually far more profitable than the drum-and-trumpet variety of the
same article; or at least we found it so; and often, from blush of morn
to far later than dewy eve--which natural phenomena, by the way, were
only emblematically observed by me during thirty busy years in the
extinguishment of the street lamps at dawn, and their re-illumination at
dusk--did I and my partner incessantly pursue our golden avocations;
deferring what are usually esteemed the pleasures of life--its banquets,
music, flowers, and lettered ease--till the toil, and heat, and hurry of
the day were past, and a calm, luminous evening, unclouded by care or
anxiety, had arrived. This conduct may or may not have been wise; but at
all events it daily increased the connection and transactions of the
firm, and ultimately anchored us both very comfortably in the three per
cents; and this too, I am bold to say, not without our having effected
some good in our generation. This boast of mine the following passage in
the life of a distinguished client--known, I am quite sure, by reputation
to most of the readers of these papers, whom our character for practical
sagacity and professional shrewdness brought us--will, I think, be
admitted in some degree to substantiate.
Our connection was a mercantile rather than an aristocratic one, and my
surprise was therefore considerable, when, on looking through the
office-blinds to ascertain what vehicle it was that had driven so rapidly
up to the door, I observed a handsomely-appointed carriage with a coronet
emblazoned on the panels, out of which a tall footman was handing a lady
attired in deep but elegant mourning, and closely veiled. I instantly
withdrew to my private room, and desired that the lady should be
immediately admitted. Greatly was my surprise increased when the graceful
and still youthful visitor withdrew her veil, and disclosed the features
of the Countess of Seyton, upon whose mild, luminous beauty, as rendered
by the engraving from Sir Thomas Lawrence's picture, I had so frequently
gazed with admiration. That rare and touching beauty was clouded now; and
an intense expression of anxiety, fear--almost terror--gleamed from out
the troubled depths of her fine dark eyes.
"The Countess of Seyton!" I half-involuntarily exclaimed, as with my very
best bow I handed her ladyship a chair.
"Yes; and you are a partner of this celebrated firm, are you not?"
I bowed again still more profoundly to this compliment, and modestly
admitted that I was the Sharp of the firm her ladyship was pleased to
entitle "celebrated."
"Then, Mr. Sharp, I have to consult you professionally upon a matter of
the utmost--the most vital importance to me and mine." Her ladyship then,
with some confusion of manner, as if she did not know whether what she
was doing was in accordance with strict etiquette or not, placed a Bank
of England note, by way of retainer, before me. I put it back, explaining
what the usage really was, and the countess replaced it in her purse.
"We shall he proud to render your ladyship any assistance in our power,"
I said; "but I understood the Messrs. Jackson enjoyed the confidence of
the house of Seyton?"
"Precisely. They are, so to speak, the hereditary solicitors of the
family more than of any individual member of it; and therefore, though
highly respectable persons, unfit to advise me in this particular matter.
Besides," she added with increasing tremor and hesitation, "to deal with,
and if possible foil, the individual by whom I am persecuted, requires an
agent of keener sagacity than either of those gentlemen can boast of;
sharper, more resolute men; more--you understand what I mean?"
"Perfectly, madam; and allow me to suggest that it is probable our
interview may be a somewhat prolonged one--your ladyship's carriage,
which may attract attention, should be at once dismissed. The office of
the family solicitors is, you are aware, not far off; and as we could not
explain to them the reason which induces your ladyship to honor us with
your confidence, it will be as well to avoid any chance of inquiry."
Lady Seyton acquiesced in my suggestion: the carriage was ordered home,
and Mr. Flint entering just at the time, we both listened with
earnestness and anxiety to her communication. It is needless to repeat
verbatim the somewhat prolix, exclamative narration of the countess; the
essential facts were as follows:--
The Countess of Seyton, previous to her first marriage, was Miss Clara
Hayley, second daughter of the Reverend John Hayley, the rector of a
parish in Devonshire. She married, when only nineteen years of age, a
Captain Gosford. Her husband was ten years older than herself, and, as
she discovered after marriage, was cursed with a morose and churlish
temper and disposition. Previous to her acquaintance with Gosford, she
had been intimate with, almost betrothed to, Mr. Arthur Kingston, a young
gentleman connected with the peerage, and at that time heir-apparent to
the great expectancies and actual poverty of his father, Sir Arthur
Kingston. The haughty baronet, the instant he was made aware of the
nature of his son's intimacy with the rector's daughter, packed the young
man off to the continent on his travels. The Reverend John Hayley and his
beautiful Clara were as proud as the baronet, and extremely indignant
that it should be thought either of them wished to entrap or delude
Arthur Kingston into an unequal or ineligible marriage. This feeling of
pride and resentment aided the success of Mr. Gosford's suit, and Clara
Hayley, like many other rash, high-notioned young ladies, doomed herself
to misery, in order to show the world, and Mr. Arthur Kingston and his
proud father especially, that she had a spirit. The union was a most
unhappy one. One child only, which died in its infancy, was born to them;
and after being united somewhat more than two years, a separation,
vehemently insisted on by the wife's father, took place, and the
unhappily-wedded daughter returned to her parent's roof. Mr. Gosford--he
had some time before sold out of the army--traveled about the country in
search of amusement, and latterly of health, (for his unhappy cankerous
temper at last affected and broke down his never very robust physical
constitution), accompanied for the twelvemonth preceding his death by a
young man belonging to the medical profession, of the name of Chilton.
Mr. and Mrs. Gosford had been separated a few days less than three years
when the husband died, at the village of Swords in Ireland, and not far
distant from Dublin. The intelligence was first conveyed to the widow by
a paragraph in the "Freeman's Journal," a Dublin newspaper; and by the
following post a letter arrived from Mr. Chilton, inclosing a ring which
the deceased had requested should be sent to his wife, and a note,
dictated just previous to his death-hour, in which he expressed regret
for the past, and admitted that he alone had been to blame for the
unhappy separation. A copy of his will, made nearly a twelvemonth
previously, was also forwarded, by which he bequeathed his property,
amounting to about three hundred pounds per annum, to a distant relative
then residing in New Holland. By a memorandum of a subsequent date, Mr.
Chilton was to have all the money and other personals he might die in
actual possession of, after defraying the necessary funeral expenses.
This will, Mr. Chilton stated, the deceased gentleman had expressed a
wish in his last moments to alter, but death had been too sudden for him
to be able to give effect to that good, but too long-delayed intention.
It cannot be supposed that the long-before practically widowed wife
grieved much at the final breaking of the chain which bound her to so
ungenial a mate; but as Lady Seyton was entirely silent upon the subject,
our supposition can only rest upon the fact, that Arthur Kingston--who
had some time previously, in consequence of the death of the Earl of
Seyton and his only son, an always-weakly child, preceded a few months by
that of his own father, the baronet, succeeded to the earldom and
estates--hastened home, on seeing the announcement of Gosford's death in
the Dublin paper, from the continent, where he had continued to reside
since his compelled-departure six years before; and soon afterwards found
his way into Devonshire, and so successfully pressed the renewed offer of
his hand, that the wedding took place slightly within six months after
the decease of Mr. Gosford. Life passed brilliantly and happily with the
earl and countess--to whom three children (a boy and two girls) were
born--till about five months previous to the present time, when the earl,
from being caught, when out riding, in a drenching shower of rain, was
attacked by fever, and after an acute illness of only two or three days'
duration, expired. The present earl was at the time just turned of five
years of age.
This blow, we comprehended from the sudden tears which filled the
beautiful eyes of the countess as she spoke of the earl's decease, was a
severe one. Still, the grief of widowhood must have been greatly assuaged
by love for her children, and not inconsiderably, after a while, we may
be sure, by the brilliant position in which she was left--as, in addition
to being splendidly jointured, she was appointed by her husband's will
sole guardian of the young lord, her son.
A terrible reverse awaited her. She was sitting with her father the
rector, and her still unmarried sister, Jane Hayley, in the drawing-room
of Seyton House, when a note was brought to her, signed Edward Chilton,
the writer of which demanded an immediate and private interview, on, he
alleged, the most important business. Lady Seyton remembered the name,
and immediately acceded to the man's request. He announced in a brusque,
insolent tone and manner, that Mr. Gosford had not died at the time his
death was announced to her, having then only fallen into a state of
syncope, from which he had unexpectedly recovered, and had lived six
months longer. "The truth is," added Chilton, "that, chancing the other
day to be looking over a 'peerage,' I noticed for the first time the date
of your marriage with the late Earl of Seyton, and I have now to inform
you that it took place precisely eight days previous to Mr. Gosford's
death; that it was consequently no marriage at all; and that your son is
no more Earl of Seyton than I am."
This dreadful announcement, as one might expect, completely overcame the
countess. She fainted, but not till she had heard and comprehended
Chilton's hurried injunctions to secrecy and silence. He rang the bell
for assistance, and then left the house. The mental agony of Lady Seyton
on recovering consciousness was terrible, and she with great difficulty
succeeded in concealing its cause from her anxious and wondering
relatives. Another interview with Chilton appeared to confirm the truth
of his story beyond doubt or question. He produced a formally-drawn-up
document, signed by one Pierce Cunningham, grave-digger of Swords, which
set forth that Charles Gosford was buried on the 26th of June, 1832, and
that the inscription on his tombstone set forth that he had died June 23d
of that year. Also a written averment of Patrick Mullins of Dublin, that
he had lettered the stone at the head of the grave of Charles Gosford in
Swords burying-ground in 1832, and that its date was, as stated by Pierce
Cunningham, June 23, 1832.
"Have you copies of those documents?" asked Mr. Flint.
"Yes: I have brought them with me," the countess replied, and handed them
to Mr. Flint. "In my terror and extremity," continued her ladyship, "and
unguided by counsel--for, till now I have not dared to speak upon the
subject to any person--I have given this Chilton, at various times, large
sums of money--but he is insatiable; and only yesterday--I cannot
repeat his audacious proposal--you will find it in this note."
"Marriage!" exclaimed Mr. Flint with a burst. He had read the note over
my shoulder. "The scoundrel!"
My worthy partner was rather excited. The truth was he had a Clara of
his own at home--a dead sister's child--very pretty, just about
marriageable, and a good deal resembling, as he told me afterwards, our
new and interesting client.
"I would die a thousand deaths rather," resumed Lady Seyton, in a low,
tremulous voice, as she let fall her veil. "Can there," she added in a
still fainter voice, "be anything done--anything"--
"That depends entirely," interrupted Mr. Flint, "upon whether this fine
story is or is not a fabrication, got up for the purpose of extorting
money. It seems to me, I must say, amazingly like one."
"Do you really think so?" exclaimed the lady with joyful vehemence. The
notion that Chilton was perhaps imposing on her credulity and fears
seemed not to have struck her before.
"What do you think, Sharp?" said my partner.
I hesitated to give an opinion, as I did not share in the hope
entertained by Flint. Detection was so certain, that I doubted if so
cunning a person as Chilton appeared to be would have ventured on a fraud
so severely punishable. "Suppose," I said, avoiding an answer, "as this
note appoints an interview at three o'clock to-day at Seyton House, we
meet him there instead of your ladyship? A little talk with the fellow
might be serviceable."
Lady Seyton eagerly agreed to this proposal; and it was arranged that we
should be at Seyton House half an hour before the appointed time, in
readiness for the gentleman. Lady Seyton left in a hackney-coach,
somewhat relieved, I thought, by having confided the oppressive secret to
us, and with a nascent hope slightly flushing her pale, dejected
countenance.
The firm of Flint and Sharp had then a long conference together, during
which the lady's statement and Mr. Chilton's documents were, the reader
may be sure, very minutely conned over, analyzed, and commented upon.
Finally, it was resolved that, if the approaching interview, the manner
of which we agreed upon, did not prove satisfactory, Mr. Flint should
immediately proceed to Ireland, and personally ascertain the truth or
falsehood of the facts alleged by Chilton.
"Mr. Chilton is announced," said Lady Seyton, hurriedly entering the
library in Grosvenor Square, where Mr. Flint and myself were seated. "I
need not be present, I think you said?" she added, in great tremor.
"Certainly not, madam," I replied. "We shall do better alone."
She retired instantly. Flint rose and stationed himself close by the
door. Presently a sounding, confident step was heard along the passage,
the library door swung back on its noiseless hinges, and in stalked a man
of apparently about thirty-five years of age, tall, genteel, and
soldier-looking. He started back on seeing me, recognizing, I perceived,
my vocation, at a glance.
"How is this?" he exclaimed. "I expected"--
"The Countess of Seyton. True; but her ladyship has deputed me to confer
with you on the business mentioned in your note."
"I shall have nothing to say to you," he replied abruptly, and turned
to leave the room. Mr. Flint had shut, and was standing with his back
to the door.
"You can't go," he said, in his coolest manner. "The police are
within call."
"The police! What the devil do you mean?" cried Chilton, angrily; but,
spite of his assurance, visibly trembling beneath Flint's searching,
half-sneering look.
"Nothing very remarkable," replied that gentleman, "or unusual in our
profession. Come, sit down; we are lawyers; you are a man of business, we
know. I dare say we shall soon understand each other."
Mr. Chilton sat down, and moodily awaited what was next to come.
"You are aware," said Mr. Flint, "that you have rendered yourself liable
to transportation?"
"What"' exclaimed Chilton, flashing crimson, and starting to his
feet. "What!"
"To transportation," continued my imperturbable partner, "for seven, ten,
fourteen years, or for life, at the discretion of the judge; but,
considering the frequency of the crime of late, I should say there is a
strong probability that _you_ will be a _lifer_!"
"What devil's gibberish is this?" exclaimed Chilton, frightened, but
still fierce. "I can prove everything I have said. Mr. Gosford, I
tell you"--
"Well, well," interrupted Mr. Flint; "put it in that light, how you
please; turn it which way you will; it's like the key in Blue Beard,
which, I dare say, you have read of; rub it out on one side, and up it
comes on the other. Say, by way of argument, that you have _not_ obtained
money by unfounded threats--a crime which the law holds tantamount to
highway robbery. You have in that case obtained money for compromising a
felony--that of polygamy. An awful position, my good sir, choose which
you will."
Utterly chop-fallen was the lately triumphant man; but he speedily
rallied.
"I care not," he at length said. "Punish me you may; but the pride of
this sham countess and the sham earl will be brought low. And I tell you
once for all," he added, rising at the same time, and speaking in
ringing, wrathful tones, "that I defy you, and will either be handsomely
remunerated for silence, or I will at once inform the Honorable James
Kingston that he is the true Earl of Seyton."
"And I tell _you_," retorted Flint, "that if you attempt to leave this
room, I will give you into custody at once, and transport you, whatever
may be the consequence to others. Come, come, let us have no more
nonsense or bluster. We have strong reasons for believing that the story
by which you have been extorting money, is a fabrication. If it be so,
rely upon it we shall detect and punish you. Your only safe course is to
make a clean breast of it whilst there is yet time. Out with it, man, at
once, and you shall go Scot-free; nay, have a few score pounds more--say
a hundred. Be wise in time, I counsel you."
Chilton hesitated; his white lips quivered. There _was_ something
to reveal.
"I cannot," he muttered, after a considerable pause. "There is nothing to
disclose."
"You will not! Then your fate be on your own head. I have done with you."
It was now my turn. "Come, come," I said, "it is useless urging this
man further. How much do you expect? The insolent proposal contained
in your note is, you well know, out of the question. How much _money_
do you expect for keeping this wretched affair secret? State your
terms at once."
"A thousand per annum," was the reply, "and the first year down."
"Modest, upon my word! But I suppose we must comply." I wrote out an
agreement. "Will you sign this?"
He ran it over. "Yes; Lady Seyton, as she calls herself, will take care
it never sees the light."
I withdrew, and in two or three minutes returned with a check. "Her
ladyship has no present cash at the bankers," I said, "and is obliged to
post-date this check twelve days."
The rascal grumbled a good deal; but as there was no help for it, he took
the security, signed the agreement, and walked off.
"A sweet nut that for the devil to crack," observed Mr. Flint, looking
savagely after him. "I am in hopes we shall trounce him yet, bravely as
he carries it. The check of course is not payable to order or bearer"
"Certainly not; and before twelve days are past, you will have returned
from Ireland. The agreement may be, I thought, of use with Cunningham or
Mullins. If they have been conspiring together, they will scarcely admire
the light in which you can place the arrangement, as affording proof that
he means to keep the lion's share of the reward to himself."
"Exactly. At all events we shall get at the truth, whatever it be."
The same evening Mr. Flint started for Dublin _viâ_ Holyhead.
I received in due course a letter from him dated the day after his
arrival there. It was anything but a satisfactory one. The date on the
grave-stone had been truly represented, and Mullins who erected it was a
highly respectable man. Flint had also seen the grave-digger, but could
make nothing out of him. There was no regular register of deaths kept in
Swords except that belonging to Cunningham; and the minister who buried
Gosford, and who lived at that time in Dublin, had been dead some time.
This was disheartening and melancholy enough; and, as if to give our
unfortunate client the _coup-de-grace_, Mr. Jackson, junior, marched into
the office just after I had read it, to say that, having been referred by
Lady Seyton to us for explanations, with respect to a statement made by a
Mr. Edward Chilton to the Honorable James Kingston, for whom they, the
Messrs. Jackson, were now acting, by which it appeared that the said
Honorable James Kingston was, in fact, the true Earl of Seyton, he, Mr.
Jackson, junior, would be happy to hear what I had to say upon the
subject! It needed but this. Chilton had, as I feared he would, after
finding we had been consulted, sold his secret, doubtless advantageously,
to the heir-at-law. There was still, however, a chance that something
favorable might turn up, and, as I had no notion of throwing that chance
away, I carelessly replied that we had reason to believe Chilton's story
was a malicious fabrication, and that we should of course throw on them
the onus of judicial proof that Gosford was still alive when the late
earl's marriage was solemnized. Finally, however, to please Mr. Jackson,
who professed to be very anxious, for the lady's sake, to avoid
unnecessary éclat, and to arrange the affair as quietly as possible, I
agreed to meet him at Lady Seyton's in four days from that time, and hear
the evidence upon which he relied. This could not at all events render
our position worse; and it was, meanwhile, agreed that the matter should
be kept as far as possible profoundly secret.
Three days passed without any further tidings from Mr. Flint, and I
vehemently feared that his journey had proved a fruitless one, when, on
the evening previous to the day appointed for the conference at Seyton
House, a hackney-coach drove rapidly up to the office door, and out
popped Mr. Flint, followed by two strangers, whom he very watchfully
escorted into the house.
"Mr. Patrick Mullins and Mr. Pierce Cunningham," said Flint as he shook
hands with me in a way which, in conjunction with the merry sparkle of
his eyes, and the boisterous tone of his voice, assured me all was right.
"Mr. Pierce Cunningham will sleep here to-night," he added; "so Collins
had better engage a bed out."
Cunningham, an ill-looking lout of a fellow, muttered, that he chose "to
sleep at a tavern."
"Not if I know it, my fine fellow," rejoined Mr. Flint. "You mean well, I
dare say; but I cannot lose sight of you for all that. You either sleep
here or at a station-house."
The man stared with surprise and alarm; but knowing refusal or resistance
to be hopeless, sullenly assented to the arrangement, and withdrew to the
room appointed for him, vigilantly guarded. For Mr. Mullins we engaged a
bed at a neighboring tavern.
Mr. Flint's mission had been skillfully and successfully accomplished. He
was convinced, by the sullen confusion of manner manifested by
Cunningham, that some villainous agency had been at work, and he again
waited on Mullins, the stone-cutter. "Who gave you the order for the
grave-stone?" he asked. Mr. Mullins referred to his book, and answered
that he received it by letter. "Had he got that letter?" "Very likely,"
he replied, "as he seldom destroyed business papers of any kind." "A
search was instituted, and finally this letter," said Mr. Flint, "worth
an earl's coronet, torn and dirty as it is, turned up." This invaluable
document, which bore the London postdate of June 23, 1832, ran as
follows:--
"Anglesea Hotel, Haymarket, London, _June_ 23, 1832.
"Sir--Please to erect a plain tomb-stone at the head of Charles
Gosford, Esquire's grave, who died a few month's since at Swords, aged
thirty-two years. This is all that need be inscribed upon it. You are
referred to Mr. Guinness of Sackville Street, Dublin, for payment. Your
obedient servant,
"Edward Chilton."
"You see," continued Flint, "the fellow had inadvertently left out the
date of Gosford's death, merely stating it occurred a few months
previously; and Mullins concluded that, in entering the order in his
day-book, he must have somehow or other confounded the date of the letter
with that of Gosford's decease. Armed with this precious discovery, I
again sought Cunningham, and by dint of promises and threats, at last got
the truth out of the rascal. It was this:--Chilton, who returned to this
country from the Cape, where he had resided for three years previously,
about two months ago, having some business to settle in Dublin, went over
there, and one day visited Swords, read the inscription on Charles
Gosford's grave-stone, and immediately sought out the grave-digger, and
asked him if he had any record of that gentleman's burial. Cunningham
said he had, and produced his book, by which it appeared that it took
place December 24, 1831. "That cannot be," remarked Chilton, and he
referred to the head-stone. Cunningham said he had noticed the mistake a
few days after it was erected; but thinking it of no consequence, and
never having, that he knew of, seen Mr. Mullins since, he had said, and
indeed thought, nothing about it. To conclude the story--Chilton
ultimately, by payment of ten pounds down, and liberal promises for the
future, prevailed upon the grave-digger to lend himself to the infamous
device the sight of the grave-stone had suggested to his fertile,
unscrupulous brain."
This was indeed a glorious success and the firm of Flint and Sharp drank
the Countess of Seyton's health that evening with great enthusiasm, and
gleefully "thought of the morrow."
We found the drawing-room of Seyton House occupied by the Honorable James
Kingston, his solicitors, the Messrs. Jackson, Lady Seyton, and her
father and sister, to whom she had at length disclosed the source of her
disquietude. The children were leaving the apartment as we entered it,
and the grief-dimmed eyes of the countess rested sadly upon her
bright-eyed boy as he slowly withdrew with his sisters. That look changed
to one of wild surprise as it encountered Mr. Flint's shining,
good-humored countenance. I was more composed and reserved than my
partner, though feeling as vividly as he did the satisfaction of being
able not only to dispel Lady Seyton's anguish, but to extinguish the
exultation, and trample on the hopes, of the Honorable James Kingston, a
stiff, grave, middle-aged piece of hypocritical propriety, who was
surveying from out the corners of his affectedly-unobservant eyes the
furniture and decorations of the splendid apartment, and hugging himself
with the thought that all that was his! Business was immediately
proceeded with. Chilton was called in. He repeated his former story
verbatim, and with much fluency and confidence. He then placed in the
hands of Jackson, senior, the vouchers signed by Cunningham and Mullins.
The transient light faded from Lady Seyton's countenance as she turned
despairingly, almost accusingly, towards us.
"What answer have you to make to this gentleman's statement, thus
corroborated?" demanded Jackson, senior.
"Quite a remarkable one," replied Mr. Flint, as he rang the bell. "Desire
the gentlemen in the library to step up," he added to the footman who
answered the summons. In about three minutes in marched Cunningham and
Mullins, followed by two police-officers. An irrepressible exclamation of
terror escaped Chilton, which was immediately echoed by Mr. Flint's
direction to the police, as he pointed towards the trembling caitiff:
"That is your man--secure him."
A storm of exclamations, questions, remonstrances, instantly broke forth,
and it was several minutes before attention could be obtained for the
statements of our two Irish witnesses and the reading of the
happily-found letter. The effect of the evidence adduced was decisive,
electrical. Lady Seyton, as its full significance flashed upon her,
screamed with convulsive joy, and I thought must have fainted from excess
of emotion. The Rev. John Hayley returned audible thanks to God in a
voice quivering with rapture, and Miss Hayley ran out of the apartment,
and presently returned with the children, who were immediately
half-smothered with their mother's ecstatic kisses. All was for a few
minutes bewilderment, joy, rapture! Flint persisted to his dying day,
that Lady Seyton threw her arms round his neck, and kissed his bald old
forehead. This, however, I cannot personally vouch for, as my attention
was engaged at the moment by the adverse claimant, the Honorable James
Kingston, who exhibited one of the most irresistibly comic, wo-begone,
lackadaisical aspects it is possible to conceive. He made a hurried and
most undignified exit, and was immediately followed by the discomfited
"family" solicitors. Chilton was conveyed to a station-house, and the
next day was fully committed for trial. He was convicted at the next
sessions, and sentenced to seven years' transportation; and the
"celebrated" firm of Flint and Sharp, derived considerable lustre, and
more profit, from this successful stroke of professional dexterity.