GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
A few weeks after the lucky termination of the Sandford affair I was
engaged in the investigation of a remarkable case of burglary,
accompanied by homicide, which had just occurred at the residence of Mr.
Bagshawe, a gentleman of competent fortune, situated within a few miles
of Kendal in Westmoreland. The particulars forwarded to the London
police authorities by the local magistracy were chiefly these:--
Mr. Bagshawe, who had been some time absent at Leamington,
Warkwickshire, with his entire establishment, wrote to Sarah King--a
young woman left in charge of the house and property--to announce his
own speedy return, and at the same time directing her to have a
particular bedroom aired, and other household matters arranged for the
reception of his nephew, Mr. Robert Bristowe, who, having just arrived
from abroad, would, he expected, leave London immediately for Five Oaks'
House. The positive arrival of this nephew had been declared to several
tradesmen of Kendal by King early in the day preceding the night of the
murder and robbery; and by her directions butcher-meat, poultry, fish,
and so on, had been sent by them to Five Oaks for his table. The lad who
carried the fish home stated that he had seen a strange young gentleman
in one of the sitting-rooms on the ground-floor through the half-opened
door of the apartment. On the following morning it was discovered that
Five Oaks' House had been, not indeed broken _into_, but broken _out
of_. This was evident from the state of the door fastenings and the
servant-woman barbarously murdered. The neighbors found her lying quite
dead and cold at the foot of the principal staircase, clothed only in
her nightgown and stockings, and with a flat chamber candlestick tightly
grasped in her right hand. It was conjectured that she had been roused
from sleep by some noise below, and having descended to ascertain the
cause, had been mercilessly slain by the disturbed burglars. Mr.
Bagshawe arrived on the following day, and it was then found that not
only a large amount of plate, but between three and four thousand pounds
in gold and notes--the produce of government stock sold out about two
months previously--had been carried off. The only person, except his
niece, who lived with him, that knew there was this sum in the house,
was his nephew Robert Bristowe, to whom he had written, directing his
letter to the Hummums Hotel, London, stating that the sum for the
long-contemplated purchase of Ryland's had been some time lying idle at
Five Oaks, as he had wished to consult him upon his bargain before
finally concluding it. This Mr. Robert Bristowe was now nowhere to be
seen or heard of; and what seemed to confirm beyond a doubt the--to Mr.
Bagshawe and his niece--torturing, horrifying suspicion that this nephew
was the burglar and assassin, a portion of the identical letter written
to him by his uncle was found in one of the offices! As he was nowhere
to be met with or heard of in the neighborhood of Kendal, it was
surmised that he must have returned to London with his booty; and a full
description of his person, and the dress he wore, as given by the
fishmonger's boy, was sent to London by the authorities. They also
forwarded for our use and assistance one Josiah Barnes, a sly, sharp,
vagabond-sort of fellow, who had been apprehended on suspicion, chiefly,
or rather wholly, because of his former intimacy with the unfortunate
Sarah King, who had discarded him, it seemed, on account of his
incorrigibly idle, and in other respects disreputable habits. The
_alibi_ he set up was, however, so clear and decisive, that he was but a
few hours in custody; and he now exhibited great zeal for the discovery
of the murderer of the woman to whom he had, to the extent of his
perverted instincts, been sincerely attached. He fiddled at the
festivals of the humbler Kendalese; sang, tumbled, ventriloquized at
their tavern orgies; and had he not been so very highly-gifted, might,
there was little doubt, have earned a decent living as a carpenter, to
which profession his father, by dint of much exertion, had about
half-bred him. His principal use to us was, that he was acquainted with
the features of Mr. Robert Bristowe; and accordingly, as soon as I had
received my commission and instructions, I started off with him to the
Hummums Hotel, Covent Garden. In answer to my inquiries, it was stated
that Mr. Robert Bristowe had left the hotel a week previously without
settling his bill--which was, however, of very small amount, as he
usually paid every evening--and had not since been heard of; neither had
he taken his luggage with him. This was odd, though the period stated
would have given him ample time to reach Westmoreland on the day it was
stated he _had_ arrived there.
"What dress did he wear when he left?"
"That which he usually wore: a foraging-cap with a gold band, a blue
military surtout coat, light trousers, and Wellington boots."
The precise dress described by the fishmonger's errand-boy! We next
proceeded to the Bank of England, to ascertain if any of the stolen
notes had been presented for payment. I handed in a list of the numbers
furnished by Mr. Bagshawe, and was politely informed that they had all
been cashed early the day before by a gentleman in a sort of undress
uniform, and wearing a foraging cap. Lieutenant James was the name
indorsed upon them; and the address Harley Street, Cavendish Square, was
of course a fictitious one. The cashier doubted if he should be able to
swear to the person of the gentleman who changed the notes, but he had
particularly noticed his dress. I returned to Scotland Yard to report
_no_ progress; and it was then determined to issue bills descriptive of
Bristowe's person, and offering a considerable reward for his
apprehension, or such information as might lead to it; but the order had
scarcely been issued, when who should we see walking deliberately down
the yard towards the police-office but Mr. Robert Bristowe himself,
dressed precisely as before described! I had just time to caution the
inspector not to betray any suspicion, but to hear his story, and let
him quietly depart, and to slip with Josiah Barnes out of sight, when he
entered, and made a formal but most confused complaint of having been
robbed something more than a week previously--where or by whom he knew
not--and afterwards deceived, bamboozled, and led astray in his pursuit
of the robbers, by a person whom he now suspected to be a confederate
with them. Even of this latter personage he could afford no tangible
information; and the inspector, having quietly listened to his
statement--intended, doubtless, as a mystification--told him the police
should make inquiries, and wished him good-morning. As soon as he had
turned out of Scotland Yard by the street leading to the Strand, I was
upon his track. He walked slowly on, but without pausing, till he
reached the Saracen's Head, Snow-Hill, where, to my great astonishment,
he booked himself for Westmoreland by the night-coach. He then walked
into the inn, and seating himself in the coffee-room, called for a pint
of sherry wine and some biscuits. He was now safe for a short period at
any rate; and I was about to take a turn in the street, just to meditate
upon the most advisable course of action, when I espied three
buckishly-attired, bold-faced looking fellows--one of whom I thought I
recognised, spite of his fine dress--enter the booking-office. Naturally
anxious in my vocation, I approached as closely to the door as I could
without being observed, and heard one of them--my acquaintance sure
enough; I could not be deceived in that voice--ask the clerk if there
were any vacant places in the night-coach to Westmoreland. To
Westmoreland! Why, what in the name of Mercury could a detachment of the
swell-mob be wanting in that country of furze and frieze-coats? The next
sentence uttered by my friend, as he placed the money for booking three
insides to Kendal on the counter was equally, or perhaps more puzzling:
"Is the gentleman who entered the office just now--him with a foraging
cap I mean--to be our fellow-passenger?"
"Yes, he has booked himself; and has, I think, since gone into the
house."
"Thank you: good-morning."
I had barely time to slip aside into one of the passages, when the three
gentlemen came out of the office, passed me, and swaggered out of the
yard. Vague, undefined suspicions at once beset me relative to the
connection of these worthies with the "foraging-cap" and the doings at
Kendal. There was evidently something in all this more than natural, if
police philosophy could but find it out. I resolved at all events to
try; and in order to have a chance of doing so, I determined to be of
the party, nothing doubting that I should be able, in some way or other,
to make one in whatever game they intended playing. I in my turn entered
the booking-office, and finding there were still two places vacant,
secured them both for James Jenkins and Josiah Barnes, countrymen and
friends of mine returning to the "north countrie."
I returned to the coffee-room, where Mr. Bristowe was still seated,
apparently in deep and anxious meditation, and wrote a note, with which
I despatched the inn porter. I had now ample leisure for observing the
suspected burglar and assassin. He was a pale, intellectual-looking, and
withal handsome young man, of about six-and-twenty years of age, of
slight but well-knit frame, and with the decided air--travel-stained and
jaded as he appeared--of a gentleman. His look was troubled and
careworn, but I sought in vain for any indication of the starting,
nervous tremor always in my experience exhibited by even old
practitioners in crime when suddenly accosted. Several persons had
entered the room hastily, without causing him even to look up. I
determined to try an experiment on his nerves, which I was quite
satisfied no man who had recently committed a murder, and but the day
before changed part of the produce of that crime into gold at the Bank
of England, could endure without wincing. My object was, not to procure
evidence producible in a court of law by such means, but to satisfy my
own mind. I felt a growing conviction that, spite of appearances, the
young man was guiltless of the deed imputed to him, and might be the
victim, I could not help thinking, either of some strange combination of
circumstances, or, more likely, of a diabolical plot for his
destruction, essential, possibly, to the safety of the real perpetrators
of the crime; very probably--so ran my suspicions--friends and
acquaintances of the three gentlemen who were to be our
fellow-travelers. My duty, I knew, was quite as much the vindication of
innocence as the detection of guilt; and if I could satisfy myself that
he was not the guilty party, no effort of mine should be wanting, I
determined, to extricate him from the perilous position in which he
stood. I went out of the room, and remained absent for some time; then
suddenly entered with a sort of bounce, walked swiftly, and with a
determined air, straight up to the box where he was seated, grasped him
tightly by the arm, and exclaimed roughly, "So I have found you at
last!" There was no start, no indication of fear whatever--not the
slightest; the expression of his countenance, as he peevishly replied,
"What the devil do you mean?" was simply one of surprise and annoyance.
"I beg your pardon," I replied; "the waiter told me a friend of mine,
one _Bagshawe_, who has given me the slip, was here, and I mistook you
for him."
He courteously accepted my apology, quietly remarking at the same time
that though his own name was Bristowe, he had, oddly enough, an uncle in
the country of the same name as the person I had mistaken him for.
Surely, thought I, this man is guiltless of the crime imputed to him;
and yet---- At this moment the porter entered to announce the arrival of
the gentleman I had sent for. I went out; and after giving the new-comer
instructions not to lose sight of Mr. Bristowe, hastened home to make
arrangements for the journey.
Transformed, by the aid of a flaxen wig, broad-brimmed hat, green
spectacles, and a multiplicity of waistcoats and shawls, into a heavy
and elderly, well-to-do personage, I took my way with Josiah
Barnes--whom I had previously thoroughly drilled as to speech and
behavior towards our companions--to the Saracen's Head a few minutes
previous to the time for starting. We found Mr. Bristowe already seated;
but the "three friends," I observed, were curiously looking on, desirous
no doubt of ascertaining _who_ were to be their fellow-travelers before
venturing to coop themselves up in a space so narrow, and, under
certain circumstances, so difficult of egress. My appearance and that of
Barnes--who, sooth to say, looked much more of a simpleton than he
really was--quite reassured them, and in they jumped with confident
alacrity. A few minutes afterwards the "all right" of the attending
ostlers gave the signal for departure, and away we started.
A more silent, less social party I never assisted at. Whatever amount of
"feast of reason" each or either of us might have silently enjoyed, not
a drop of "flow of soul" welled up from one of the six insides. Every
passenger seemed to have his own peculiar reasons for declining to
display himself in either mental or physical prominence. Only one or two
incidents--apparently unimportant, but which I carefully noted down in
the tablet of my memory--occurred during the long, wearisome journey,
till we stopped to dine at about thirty miles from Kendal; when I
ascertained, from an over-heard conversation of one of the three with
the coachman, that they intended to get down at a roadside tavern more
than six miles on this side of that place.
"Do you know this house they intend to stop at?" I inquired of my
assistant as soon as I got him out of sight and hearing at the back of
the premises.
"Quite well: it is within about two miles of Five Oaks' House."
"Indeed! Then you must stop there too. It is necessary I should go on to
Kendal with Mr. Bristowe; but you can remain and watch their
proceedings."
"With all my heart."
"But what excuse can you make for remaining there, when they know you
are booked for Kendal? Fellows of that stamp are keenly suspicious; and
in order to be useful, you must be entirely unsuspected."
"Oh, leave that to me. I'll throw dust enough in their eyes to blind a
hundred such as they, I warrant ye."
"Well, we shall see. And now to dinner."
Soon after, the coach had once more started. Mr. Josiah Barnes began
drinking from a stone bottle which he drew from his pocket; and so
potent must have been the spirit it contained, that he became rapidly
intoxicated. Not only speech, but eyes, body, arms, legs, the entire
animal, by the time we reached the inn where we had agreed he should
stop, was thoroughly, hopelessly drunk; and so savagely quarrelsome,
too, did he become, that I expected every instant to hear my real
vocation pointed out for the edification of the company. Strange to say,
utterly stupid and savage as he seemed, all dangerous topics were
carefully avoided. When the coach stopped, he got out--how, I know
not--and reeled and tumbled into the tap-room, from which he declared he
would not budge an inch till next day. Vainly did the coachman
remonstrate with him upon his foolish obstinacy; he might as well have
argued with a bear; and he at length determined to leave him to his
drunken humor. I was out of patience with the fellow; and snatching an
opportunity when the room was clear, began to upbraid him for his
vexatious folly. He looked sharply round, and then, his body as evenly
balanced, his eye as clear, his speech as free as my own, crowed out in
a low exulting voice, "Didn't I tell you I'd manage it nicely?" The door
opened, and, in a twinkling, extremity of drunkenness, of both brain and
limb, was again assumed with a perfection of acting I have never seen
equalled. He had studied from nature, that was perfectly clear. I was
quite satisfied, and with renewed confidence obeyed the coachman's call
to take my seat. Mr. Bristowe and I were now the only inside passengers;
and as farther disguise was useless, I began stripping myself of my
superabundant clothing, wig, spectacles, &c., and in a few minutes, with
the help of a bundle I had with me, presented to the astonished gaze of
my fellow-traveler the identical person that had so rudely accosted him
in the coffee-room of the Saracen's Head inn.
"Why, what, in the name of all that's comical, is the meaning of this?"
demanded Mr. Bristowe, laughing immoderately at my changed appearance.
I briefly and coolly informed him; and he was for some minutes
overwhelmed with consternation and astonishment. He had not, he said,
even heard of the catastrophe at his uncle's. Still, amazed and
bewildered as he was, no sign which I could interpret into an indication
of guilt escaped him.
"I do not wish to obtrude upon your confidence, Mr. Bristowe," I
remarked, after a long pause; "but you must perceive that unless the
circumstances I have related to you are in some way explained, you stand
in a perilous predicament."
"You are right," he replied, after some hesitation. "_It is_ a tangled
web; still, I doubt not that some mode of vindicating my perfect
innocence will present itself."
He then relapsed into silence; and neither of us spoke again till the
coach stopped, in accordance with a previous intimation I had given the
coachman, opposite the gate of the Kendal prison. Mr. Bristowe started,
and changed color, but instantly mastering his emotion, he calmly said,
"You of course but perform your duty; mine is not to distrust a just and
all-seeing Providence."
We entered the jail, and the necessary search of his clothes and luggage
was effected as forbearingly as possible. To my great dismay we found
amongst the money in his purse a Spanish gold piece of a peculiar
coinage, and in the lining of his portmanteau, very dexterously hidden,
a cross set with brilliants, both of which I knew, by the list forwarded
to the London police, formed part of the plunder carried off from Five
Oaks' House. The prisoner's vehement protestations that he could not
conceive how such articles came into his possession, excited a derisive
smile on the face of the veteran turnkey; whilst I was thoroughly
dumb-founded by the seemingly complete demolition of the theory of
innocence I had woven out of his candid open manner and unshakeable
hardihood of nerve.
"I dare say the articles came to you in your sleep!" sneered the turnkey
as we turned to leave the cell.
"Oh," I mechanically exclaimed, "in his sleep! I had not thought of
that!" The man stared; but I had passed out of the prison before he
could express his surprise or contempt in words.
The next morning the justice-room was densely crowded, to hear the
examination of the prisoner. There was also a very numerous attendance
of magistrates; the case, from the position in life of the prisoner, and
the strange and mysterious circumstances of the affair altogether,
having excited an extraordinary and extremely painful interest amongst
all classes in the town and neighborhood. The demeanor of the accused
gentleman was anxious certainly, but withal calm and collected; and
there was, I thought, a light of fortitude and conscious probity in his
clear, bold eyes, which guilt never yet successfully stimulated.
After the hearing of some minor evidence, the fishmonger's boy was
called, and asked if he could point out the person he had seen at Five
Oaks on the day preceding the burglary? The lad looked fixedly at the
prisoner for something more than a minute without speaking, and then
said, "The gentleman was standing before the fire when I saw him, with
his cap on; I should like to see this person with his cap on before I
say anything." Mr. Bristowe dashed on his foraging-cap, and the boy
immediately exclaimed, "That is the man!" Mr. Cowan, a solicitor,
retained by Mr. Bagshawe for his nephew, objected that this was, after
all, only swearing to a cap, or at best to the _ensemble_ of a dress,
and ought not to be received. The chairman, however, decided that it
must be taken _quantum valeat_, and in corroboration of other evidence.
It was next deposed by several persons that the deceased Sarah King had
told them that her master's nephew had positively arrived at Five Oaks.
An objection to the reception of this evidence, as partaking of the
nature of "heresay," was also made, and similarly overruled. Mr.
Bristowe begged to observe "that Sarah King was not one of his uncle's
old servants, and was entirely unknown to him: it was quite possible,
therefore, that he was personally unknown to her." The bench observed
that all these observations might be fitly urged before a jury, but, in
the present stage of the proceedings, were uselessly addressed to them,
whose sole duty it was to ascertain if a sufficiently strong case of
suspicion had been made out against the prisoner to justify his
committal for trial. A constable next proved finding a portion of a
letter, which he produced, in one of the offices of Five Oaks; and then
Mr. Bagshawe was directed to be called in. The prisoner, upon hearing
this order given, exhibited great emotion, and earnestly intreated that
his uncle and himself might be spared the necessity of meeting each
other for the first time after a separation of several years under such
circumstances.
"We can receive no evidence against you, Mr. Bristowe, in your
absence," replied the chairman in a compassionate tone of voice; "but
your uncle's deposition will occupy but a few minutes. It is, however,
indispensable."
"At least, then, Mr. Cowan," said the agitated young man, "prevent my
sister from accompanying her uncle: I could not bear _that_."
He was assured she would not be present; in fact she had become
seriously ill through anxiety and terror; and the crowded assemblage
awaited in painful silence the approach of the reluctant prosecutor. He
presently appeared--a venerable, white-haired man; seventy years old at
least he seemed, his form bowed by age and grief, his eyes fixed upon
the ground, and his whole manner indicative of sorrow and dejection.
"Uncle!" cried the prisoner, springing towards him. The aged man looked
up, seemed to read in the clear countenance of his nephew a full
refutation of the suspicions entertained against him, tottered forwards
with out-spread arms, and, in the words of the Sacred text, "fell upon
his neck, and wept," exclaiming in choking accents, "Forgive me--forgive
me, Robert, that I ever for a moment doubted you. Mary never did--never,
Robert; not for an instant."
A profound silence prevailed during this outburst of feeling, and a
considerable pause ensued before the usher of the court, at a gesture
from the chairman, touched Mr. Bagshawe's arm, and begged his attention
to the bench. "Certainly, certainly," said he, hastily wiping his eyes,
and turning towards the court. "My sister's child, gentlemen," he added
appealingly, "who has lived with me from childhood: you will excuse me,
I am sure."
"There needs no excuse, Mr. Bagshawe," said the chairman kindly; "but it
is necessary this unhappy business should be proceeded with. Hand the
witness the portion of the letter found at Five Oaks. Now, is that your
handwriting; and is it a portion of the letter you sent to your nephew,
informing him of the large sum of money kept for a particular purpose at
Five Oaks?"
"It is."
"Now," said the clerk to the magistrates, addressing me "please to
produce the articles in your possession."
I laid the Spanish coin and the cross upon the table.
"Please to look at those two articles, Mr. Bagshawe," said the chairman.
"Now, sir, on your oath, are they a portion of the property of which you
have been robbed?"
The aged gentleman stooped forward and examined them earnestly; then
turned and looked with quivering eyes, if I may be allowed the
expression, in his nephew's face; but returned no answer to the
question.
"It is necessary you should reply, Yes or No, Mr. Bagshawe," said the
clerk.
"Answer, uncle," said the prisoner soothingly: "fear not for me. God and
my innocence to aid, I shall yet break through the web of villany in
which I at present seem hopelessly involved."
"Bless you, Robert--bless you! I am sure you will. Yes, gentlemen, the
cross and coin on the table are part of the property carried off."
A smothered groan, indicative of the sorrowing sympathy felt for the
venerable gentleman, arose from the crowded court on hearing this
declaration. I then deposed to finding them as previously stated. As
soon as I concluded, the magistrates consulted together for a few
minutes; and then the chairman, addressing the prisoner, said, "I have
to inform you that the bench are agreed that sufficient evidence has
been adduced against you to warrant them in fully committing you for
trial. We are of course bound to hear anything you have to say; but such
being our intention, your professional adviser will perhaps recommend
you to reserve whatever defence you have to make for another tribunal:
here it could not avail you."
Mr. Cowan expressed his concurrence in the intimation of the magistrate;
but the prisoner vehemently protested against sanctioning by his silence
the accusation preferred against him.
"I have nothing to reserve," he exclaimed with passionate energy;
"nothing to conceal. I will not owe my acquittal of this foul charge to
any trick of lawyer-craft. If I may not come out of this investigation
with an untainted name, I desire not to escape at all. The defence, or
rather the suggestive facts I have to offer for the consideration of the
bench are these:--On the evening of the day I received my uncle's letter
I went to Drury Lane theatre, remaining out very late. On my return to
the hotel, I found I had been robbed of my pocket-book, which contained
not only that letter, and a considerable sum in bank-notes, but papers
of great professional importance to me. It was too late to adopt any
measures for its recovery that night; and the next morning, as I was
dressing myself to go out, in order to apprise the police authorities of
my loss, I was informed that a gentleman desired to see me instantly on
important business. He was shown up, and announced himself to be a
detective police-officer: the robbery I had sustained had been revealed
by an accomplice, and it was necessary I should immediately accompany
him. We left the hotel together; and after consuming the entire day in
perambulating all sorts of by-streets, and calling at several
suspicious-looking places, my officious friend all at once discovered
that the thieves had left town for the west of England, hoping,
doubtless, to reach a large town and get gold for the notes before the
news of their having been stopped should have reached it. He insisted
upon immediate pursuit. I wished to return to the hotel for a change of
clothes, as I was but lightly clad, and night-traveling required warmer
apparel. This he would not hear of, as the night-coach was on the point
of starting. He, however, contrived to supply me from his own resources
with a greatcoat--a sort of policeman's cape--and a rough traveling-cap,
which tied under the chin. In due time we arrived at Bristol, where I
was kept for several days loitering about; till, finally, my guide
decamped, and I returned to London. An hour after arriving there, I gave
information at Scotland Yard of what had happened, and afterwards booked
myself by the night-coach for Kendal. This is all I have to say."
This strange story did not produce the slightest effect upon the bench,
and very little upon the auditory, and yet I felt satisfied it was
strictly true. It was not half ingenious enough for a made-up story. Mr.
Bagshawe, I should have stated, had been led out of the justice-hall
immediately after he had finished his deposition.
"Then, Mr. Bristowe," said the magistrate's clerk, "assuming this
curious narrative to be correct, you will be easily able to prove an
_alibi_?"
"I have thought over that, Mr. Clerk," returned the prisoner mildly,
"and must confess that, remembering how I was dressed and wrapped
up--that I saw but few persons, and those casually and briefly, I have
strong misgivings of my power to do so."
"That is perhaps the less to be lamented," replied the county clerk in a
sneering tone, "inasmuch as the possession of those articles," pointing
to the cross and coin on the table, "would necessitate another equally
probable, though quite different story."
"That is a circumstance," replied the prisoner in the same calm tone as
before, "which I cannot in the slightest manner account for."
No more was said, and the order for his committal to the county jail at
Appleby on the charge of "wilful murder" was given to the clerk. At this
moment a hastily-scrawled note from Barnes was placed in my hands. I had
no sooner glanced over it, than I applied to the magistrates for an
adjournment till the morrow, on the ground that I could then produce an
important witness, whose evidence at the trial it was necessary to
assure. The application was, as a matter of course, complied with; the
prisoner was remanded till the next day, and the court adjourned.
As I accompanied Mr. Bristowe to the vehicle in waiting to convey him to
jail, I could not forbear whispering, "Be of good heart, sir, we shall
unravel this mystery yet, depend upon it." He looked keenly at me; and
then, without other reply than a warm pressure of the hand, jumped into
the carriage.
"Well, Barnes," I exclaimed as soon as we were in a room by ourselves,
and the door closed, "what is it you have discovered?"
"That the murderers of Sarah King are yonder at the Talbot where you
left me."
"Yes: so I gather from your note. But what evidence have you to support
your assertion?"
"This! Trusting to my apparent drunken imbecility, they occasionally
dropped words in my presence which convinced me not only that they were
the guilty parties, but that they had come down here to carry off the
plate, somewhere concealed in the neighborhood. This they mean to do
to-night."
"Anything more?"
"Yes. You know I am a ventriloquist in a small way, as well as a bit of
a mimic: well, I took occasion when that youngest of the rascals--the
one that sat beside Mr. Bristowe, and got out on the top of the coach
the second evening, because, freezing cold as it was, he said the inside
was too hot and close"----
"Oh, I remember. Dolt that I was, not to recall it before. But go on."
"Well, he and I were alone together in the parlor about three hours
ago--I dead tipsy as ever--when he suddenly heard the voice of Sarah
King at his elbow exclaiming, 'Who is that in the plate closet?' If you
had seen the start of horror which he gave, the terror which shook his
failing limbs as he glanced round the apartment, you would no longer
have entertained a doubt on the matter."
"This is scarcely judicial proof, Barnes; but I dare say we shall be
able to make something of it. You return immediately; about nightfall I
will rejoin you in my former disguise."
It was early in the evening when I entered the Talbot, and seated myself
in the parlor. Our three friends were present, and so was Barnes.
"Is not that fellow sober yet?" I demanded of one of them.
"No; he has been lying about drinking and snoring ever since. He went to
bed, I hear, this afternoon; but he appears to be little the better for
it."
I had an opportunity soon afterwards of speaking to Barnes privately,
and found that one of the fellows had brought a chaise-cart and horse
from Kendal, and that all three were to depart in about an hour, under
pretence of reaching a town about fourteen miles distant, where they
intended to sleep. My plan was immediately taken: I returned to the
parlor, and watching my opportunity, whispered into the ear of the young
gentleman whose nerves had been so shaken by Barnes' ventriloquism, and
who, by the way, was _my_ old acquaintance--"Dick Staples, I want a word
with you in the next room." I spoke in my natural voice, and lifted, for
his especial study and edification, the wig from my forehead. He was
thunder-struck; and his teeth chattered with terror. His two companions
were absorbed over a low game at cards, and did not observe us. "Come,"
I continued in the same whisper, "there is not a moment to lose; _if you
would save yourself_, follow me!" He did so, and I led him into an
adjoining apartment, closed the door, and drawing a pistol from my
coat-pocket, said--"You perceive, Staples, that the game is up: you
personated Mr. Bristowe at his uncle's house at Five Oaks, dressed in a
precisely similar suit of clothes to that which he wears. You murdered
the servant"----
"No--no--no, not I," gasped the wretch; "not I: I did not strike
her"----
"At all events you were present, and that, as far as the gallows is
concerned, is the same thing. You also picked that gentleman's pocket
during our journey from London, and placed one of the stolen Spanish
pieces in his purse; you then went on the roof of the coach, and by some
ingenious means or other contrived to secrete a cross set with
brilliants in his portmanteau."
"What shall I do--what shall I do?" screamed the fellow, half dead with
fear, and slipping down on a chair; "what shall I do to save my life--my
life?"
"First get up and listen. If you are not the actual murderer"----
"I am not--upon my soul I am not!"
"If you are not, you will probably be admitted king's evidence; though,
mind, I make no promises. Now, what is the plan of operations for
carrying off the booty?"
"They are going in the chaise-cart almost immediately to take it up: it
is hidden in the copse yonder. I am to remain here, in order to give an
alarm should any suspicion be excited, by showing two candles at our
bedroom window; and if all keeps right, I am to join them at the
cross-roads, about a quarter of a mile from hence."
"All right. Now return to the parlor: I will follow you; and remember
that on the slightest hint of treachery I will shoot you as I would a
dog."
About a quarter of an hour afterwards his two confederates set off in
the chaise-cart: I, Barnes, and Staples, cautiously followed, the latter
handcuffed, and superintended by the ostler of the inn, whom I for the
nonce pressed into the king's service. The night was pitch dark,
fortunately, and the noise of the cart-wheels effectually drowned the
sound of our footsteps. At length the cart stopped; the men got out, and
were soon busily engaged in transferring the buried plate to the cart.
We cautiously approached, and were soon within a yard or two of them,
still unperceived.
"Get into the cart," said one of them to the other, "and I will hand the
things up to you." His companion obeyed.
"Hollo!" cried the fellow, "I thought I told you"----
"That you are nabbed at last!" I exclaimed, tripping him suddenly up.
"Barnes, hold the horse's head. Now, sir, attempt to budge an inch out
of that cart, and I'll send a bullet through your brains." The surprise
was complete; and so terror-stricken were they, that neither resistance
nor escape was attempted. They were soon handcuffed and otherwise
secured; the remainder of the plate was placed in the cart; and we made
the best of our way to Kendal jail, where I had the honor of lodging
them at about nine o'clock in the evening. The news, late as it was,
spread like wild-fire, and innumerable were the congratulations which
awaited me when I reached the inn where I lodged. But that which
recompensed me a thousandfold for what I had done, was the fervent
embrace in which the white-haired uncle, risen from his bed to assure
himself of the truth of the news, locked me, as he called down blessings
from Heaven upon my head! There are blessed moments even in the life of
a police-officer.
Mr. Bristowe was of course liberated on the following morning; Staples
was admitted king's evidence; and one of his accomplices--the actual
murderer--was hanged, the other transported. A considerable portion of
the property was also recovered. The gentleman who--to give time and
opportunity for the perpetration of the burglary, suggested by the
perusal of Mr. Bagshawe's letter--induced Mr. Bristowe to accompany him
to Bristol, was soon afterwards transported for another offence.