THE WIDOW.
In the winter of 1833 I was hurriedly, and, as I at the time could not
help thinking, precipitately despatched to Guernsey, one of the largest
of the islands which dot the British Channel, in quest of a gentleman
of, till then, high character on the Stock Exchange, who, it was
alleged, had absconded with a very large sum of money intrusted to him
for investment by a baronet of considerable influence in official
quarters. From certain circumstances, it was surmised that Guernsey
would be his first hiding-place, and I was obliged to post all the way
to Weymouth in order to save the mail packet, which left that place on
the Saturday evening, or night rather, with the Channel-Island mails.
Mr. ---- had gone, it was conjectured, by way of Southampton. My search,
promptly and zealously as I was aided by the Guernsey authorities,
proving vain, I determined on going on to Jersey, when a letter arrived
by post informing me that the person of whom I was in pursuit had either
not intended to defraud his client, or that his heart had failed him at
the threshold of crime. A few hours after I had left London he had
reappeared, it seems, in his counting-house, after having a few minutes
previously effected the investment of the money in accordance with his
client's instructions, and was now, through his attorney, threatening
the accuser and all his aiders and abettors with the agreeable processes
that in England usually follow sharply at the heels of such rash and
hasty proceedings.
My mission over, I proposed to retrace my steps immediately, but
unfortunately found myself detained in the island for nearly a week by
the hurricane-weather which suddenly set in, rendering it impossible for
the mail or other steam-packets to cross the Channel during its
continuance. Time limped slowly and heavily away; and frequently, in my
impatience to be gone, I walked down to the bleak pier, and strained my
eyes in the direction in which the steamer from Jersey _should_ appear.
Almost every time I did so I encountered two persons, who, I could see,
were even more impatient to be gone than myself, and probably, I
thought, with much more reason. They were a widow lady, not certainly
more than thirty years of age, and her son, a fine curly-haired boy,
about eight or nine years old, whose natural light-heartedness appeared
to be checked, subdued, by the deep grief and sadness which trembled in
his mother's fine expressive eyes, and shrouded her pale but handsome
face. He held her by the hand; often clasping it with both his tiny
ones, and looking up to her as she turned despondingly away from the
vacant roadstead and raging waters, with a half-frightened,
half-wondering expression of anxious love, which would frequently cause
his mother to bend down, and hurriedly strive to kiss away the sorrowful
alarm depicted in the child's face. These two beings strangely
interested me; chiefly perhaps because, in my compelled idleness, I had
little else except the obstinate and angry weather to engage my
attention or occupy my thoughts. There was an unmistakable air of
'better days' about the widow--a grace of manner which her somewhat
faded and unseasonable raiment rendered but the more striking and
apparent. Her countenance, one perceived at the first glance, was of
remarkable comeliness; and upon one occasion that I had an opportunity
of observing it, I was satisfied that, under happier influences than
now appeared to overshadow her, those pale interesting features would
light up into beauty as brilliant as it was refined and intellectual.
This introduces another walking mystery, which, for want of something
better to do, I was conjuring out of my fellow-watchers on the pier. He
was a stoutish, strongly-set man of forty years of age, perhaps scarcely
so much, showily dressed in new glossy clothes; French-varnished boots,
thin-soled enough, winter as it was, for a drawing-room; hat of the
latest _gent_ fashion; a variegated satin cravat, fastened by two
enormous-headed gold pins, connected with a chain; and a heavy gold
chain fastened from his watch waistcoat-pocket over his neck. The
complexion of his face was a cadaverous white, liberally sprinkled and
relieved with gin and brandy blossoms, whilst the coarseness of his not
overly-clean hands was with singular taste set off and displayed by some
half-dozen glittering rings. I felt a growing conviction, especially on
noticing a sudden change in the usual cunning, impudent, leering
expression of his eyes, as he caught me looking at him with some
earnestness, that I had somewhere had the honor of a previous
introduction to him. That he had not been, lately at all events, used to
such resplendent habiliments as he now sported, was abundantly evident
from his numerous smirking self-surveys as he strutted jauntily along,
and frequently stopping before shops that, having mirrors in their
windows, afforded a more complete view of his charming person. This
creature I was convinced was in some way or other connected, or at any
rate acquainted, with the young and graceful widow. He was constantly
dogging her steps; and I noticed with surprise, and some little
irritation, that his vulgar bow was faintly returned by the lady as they
passed each other; and that her recognition of him, slight and distant
as it was, was not unfrequently accompanied by a blush, whether arising
from a pleasurable emotion or the reverse, I could not for some time
determine. There is a mystery about blushes, I was, and am quite aware,
not easily penetrable, more especially about those of widows. I was soon
enlightened upon that point. One day, when she happened to be standing
alone on the pier--her little boy was gazing through a telescope I had
borrowed of the landlord of the hotel where I lodged--he approached, and
before she was well aware of his intention, took her hand, uttering at
the same time, it seemed, some words of compliment. It was then I
observed her features literally flash with a vividness of expression
which revealed a beauty I had not before imagined she possessed. The
fellow absolutely recoiled before the concentrated scorn which flushed
her pale features, and the indignant gesture with which she withdrew her
hand from the contamination of his touch. As he turned confusedly and
hastily away, his eyes encountered mine, and he muttered some
unintelligible sentences, during which the widow and her son left the
spot.
"The lady," said I, as soon as she was out of hearing, "seems in a cold,
bitter humor this morning; not unlike the weather."
"Yes, Mr. "Wat---- I beg pardon, Mr. What's-your name, I would say?"
"Waters, as I perceive you know quite well. My recollection of you is
not so distinct. I have no remembrance of the fashionable clothes and
brilliant jewellery, none whatever; but the remarkable countenance I
_have_ seen."
"I dare say you have, Waters," he replied, reassuming his insolent,
swaggering air. "I practice at the Old Bailey; and I have several times
seen you there, not, as now, in the masquerade of a gentleman, but with
a number on your collar."
I was silly enough to feel annoyed for a moment at the fellow's stupid
sarcasm, and turned angrily away.
"There, don't fly into a passion," continued he with an exulting
chuckle. "I have no wish to be ill friends with so smart a hand as you
are. What do you say to a glass or two of wine, if only to keep this
confounded wind out of our stomachs? It's cheap enough here."
I hesitated a few seconds, and then said, "I have no great objection;
but first, whom have I the honor of addressing?"
"Mr. Gates. William Gates, _Esquire_, attorney-at-law."
"Gates! Not the Gates, I hope, in the late Bryant affair?"
"Well--yes; but allow me to say, Waters, that the observations of the
judge on that matter, and the consequent proceedings, were quite
unjustifiable; and I was strongly advised to petition the House on the
subject; but I forbore, perhaps unwisely."
"From consideration chiefly, I dare say, for the age and infirmities of
his lordship, and his numerous family?"
"Come, come," rejoined Gates with a laugh; "don't poke fun in that way.
The truth is, I get on quite as well without as with the certificate. I
transact business now for Mr. Everard Preston: you understand?"
"Perfectly. I now remember where I have seen you. But how is it your
dress has become so suddenly changed? A few weeks ago, it was nothing
like so magnificent?"
"True, my dear boy, true: quite right. I saw you observed that.
First-rate, isn't it? Every article genuine. Bond and Regent Street, I
assure you," he added, scanning himself complacently over. I nodded
approval, and he went on--"You see I have had a windfall; a piece of
remarkable luck; and so I thought I would escape out of the dingy,
smoky village, and air myself for a few days in the Channel."
"A delightful time of the year for such a purpose truly. Rather say you
came to improve your acquaintance with the lady yonder, who, I dare say,
will not prove ultimately inflexible?"
"Perhaps you are right--a little at least you may be, about the edges.
But here we are; what do you take--port?"
"That as soon as anything else."
Mr. Gates was, as he said, constitutionally thirsty, and although it was
still early in the day, drank with great relish and industry. As he grew
flushed and rosy, and I therefore imagined communicative, I said, "Well,
now, tell me who and what is that lady?"
The reply was a significant compound gesture, comprising a wink of his
left eye and the tap of a fore-finger upon the right side of his nose. I
waited, but the pantomimic action remained uninterpreted by words.
"Not rich apparently?"
"Poor as Job."
"An imprudent marriage probably?"
"Guess again, and I'll take odds you'll guess wrong; but suppose, as
variety is charming, we change the subject. What is your opinion now of
the prospects of the ministry?"
I saw it was useless attempting to extract any information from so
cunning a rascal; and hastily excusing myself, I rose, and abruptly took
my leave, more and more puzzled to account for the evident connection,
in some way or other, of so fair and elegant a woman with a low
attorney, struck off the rolls for fraudulent misconduct, and now acting
in the name of a person scarcely less disreputable than himself. On
emerging from the tavern, I found that the wind had not only sensibly
abated, but had become more favorable to the packet's leaving Jersey,
and that early the next morning we might reasonably hope to embark for
Weymouth. It turned out as we anticipated. The same boat which took me
off to the roads conveyed also the widow--Mrs. Grey, I saw by the cards
on her modest luggage--and her son. Gates followed a few minutes
afterwards, and we were soon on our stormy voyage homewards.
The passage was a very rough, unpleasant one, and I saw little of the
passengers in whom, in spite of myself, as it were, I continued to feel
so strong an interest, till the steamer was moored alongside the
Weymouth quay, and we stood together for a brief space, awaiting the
scrutiny and questionings of the officers of the customs. I bowed adieu
as I stepped from the paddle-box to the shore, and thought, with
something of a feeling of regret, that in all probability I should never
see either of them again. I was mistaken, for on arriving early the next
morning to take possession of the outside place booked for me by the
coach to London through Southampton, I found Mrs. Grey and her son
already seated on the roof. Gates came hurriedly a few minutes
afterwards, and ensconced himself snugly inside. The day was bitterly
cold, and the widow and her somewhat delicate-looking boy were but
poorly clad for such inclement weather. The coachman and myself,
however, contrived to force some rough, stout cloaks upon their
acceptance, which sufficed pretty well during the day; but as night came
on rainy and tempestuous, as well as dark and bleak, I felt that they
must be in some way or other got inside, where Gates was the only
passenger. Yet so distant, so frigidly courteous was Mrs. Grey, that I
was at a loss how to manage it. Gates, I saw, was enjoying himself
hugely to his own satisfaction. At every stage he swallowed a large
glass of brandy and water, and I observed that he cast more and more
audaciously-triumphant glances towards Mrs. Grey. Once her eye, though
studiously I thought averted from him, caught his, and a deep blush, in
which fear, timidity, and aversion seemed strangely mingled, swept over
her face. What _could_ it mean? It was, however, useless to worry myself
further with profitless conjectures, and I descended from the roof to
hold a private parley with the coachman. A reasonable bargain was soon
struck: he went to Mrs. Grey and proposed to her, as there was plenty of
room to spare, that she and her son should ride inside.
"It will make no difference in the fare," he added, "and it's bitter
cold out here for a lady."
"Thank you," replied the widow after a few moments' hesitation; "we
shall do very well here."
I guessed the cause of her refusal, and hastened to add, "You had
better, I think, accept the coachman's proposal: the night-weather will
be dreadful, and even I, a man, must take refuge inside." She looked at
me with a sort of grateful curiosity, and then accepted, with many
thanks, the coachman's offer.
When we alighted at the Regent Circus, London, I looked anxiously but
vainly round for some one in attendance to receive and greet the widow
and her son. She did not seem to expect any one, but stood gazing
vacantly, yet sadly, at the noisy, glaring, hurrying scene around her,
her child's hand clasped in hers with an unconsciously tightening grasp,
whilst her luggage was removed from the roof of the coach. Gates stood
near, as if in expectation that his services must now, however
unwillingly, be accepted by Mrs. Grey. I approached her, and said
somewhat hurriedly, "If, as I apprehend, madam, you are a stranger in
London, and consequently in need of temporary lodgings, you will, I
think, do well to apply to the person whose address I have written on
this card. It is close by. He knows me, and on your mentioning my name,
will treat you with every consideration. I am a police-officer; here is
my address; and any assistance in my power, shall, in any case," and I
glanced at Gates, "be freely rendered to you." I then hastened off, and
my wife an hour afterwards was even more anxious and interested for the
mysterious widow and her son than myself.
About six weeks had glided away, and the remembrance of my
fellow-passengers from Guernsey was rapidly fading into indistinctness,
when a visit from Roberts, to whose lodgings I had recommended Mrs.
Grey, brought them once more painfully before me. That the widow was
poor I was not surprised to hear; but that a person so utterly destitute
of resources and friends, as she appeared from Roberts' account to be,
should have sought the huge wilderness of London, seemed marvellous. Her
few trinkets, and nearly all her scanty wardrobe, Roberts more than
suspected were at the pawnbroker's. The rent of the lodgings had not
been paid for the last month, and he believed that for some time past
they had not had a sufficiency of food, and were _now_ in a state of
literal starvation! Still, she was cold and distant as ever, complained
not, though daily becoming paler, thinner, weaker.
"Does Gates the attorney visit her?" I asked.
"No--she would not see him, but letters from him are almost daily
received."
Roberts, who was a widower, wished my wife to see her: he was seriously
apprehensive of some tragical result; and this, apart from
considerations of humanity, could not be permitted for his own sake to
occur in his house. I acquiesced; and Emily hurriedly equipped herself,
and set off with Roberts to Sherrard Street, Haymarket.
On arriving at home, Roberts, to his own and my wife's astonishment,
found Gates there in a state of exuberant satisfaction. He was waiting
to pay any claim Roberts had upon Mrs. Grey, to whom, the ex-attorney
exultingly announced, he was to be married on the following Thursday!
Roberts, scarcely believing his ears, hastened up to the first floor, to
ascertain if Mrs. Grey had really given authority to Gates to act for
her. He tapped at the door, and a faint voice bidding him enter, he saw
at once what had happened. Mrs. Grey, pale as marble, her eyes flashing
with almost insane excitement, was standing by a table, upon which a
large tray had been placed covered with soups, jellies, and other
delicacies, evidently just brought in from a tavern, eagerly watching
her son partake of the first food he had tasted for two whole days!
Roberts saw clearly how it was, and stammering a foolish excuse of
having tapped at the wrong door, hastened away. She had at last
determined to sacrifice herself to save her child's life! Emily, as she
related what she had seen and heard, wept with passionate grief, and I
was scarcely less excited: the union of Mrs. Grey with such a man seemed
like the profanation of a pure and holy shrine. Then Gates was, spite of
his windfall, as he called it, essentially a needy man! Besides--and
this was the impenetrable mystery of the affair--what inducement, what
motive could induce a mercenary wretch like Gates to unite himself in
marriage with poverty--with destitution? The notion of his being
influenced by sentiment of any kind was, I felt, absurd. The more I
reflected on the matter, the more convinced I became that there was some
villainous scheme in process of accomplishment by Gates, and I
determined to make at least one resolute effort to arrive at a solution
of the perplexing riddle. The next day, having a few hours to spare, the
thought struck me that I would call on Mrs. Grey myself. I accordingly
proceeded towards her residence, and in Coventry Street happened to meet
Jackson, a brother officer, who, I was aware, from a few inquiries I had
previously made, knew something of Gates's past history and present
position. After circumstantially relating the whole matter, I asked him
if he could possibly guess what the fellow's object could be in
contracting such a marriage?
"Object!" replied Jackson; "why, money of course: what else? He has by
some means become aware that the lady is entitled to property, and he is
scheming to get possession of it as her husband."
"My own conviction! Yet the difficulty of getting at any proof seems
insurmountable."
"Just so. And, by the way, Gates is certainly in high feather just now,
however acquired. Not only himself, but Rivers his cad, clerk he calls
himself, has cast his old greasy skin, and appears quite spruce and
shining. And--now I remember--what did you say was the lady's name?"
"Grey."
"Grey! Ah, then I suppose it can have nothing to do with it! It was a
person of the name of Welton or Skelton that called on us a month or two
ago about Gates."
"What was the nature of the communication?"
"I can hardly tell you: the charge was so loosely made, and hurriedly
withdrawn. Skelton--yes, it _was_ Skelton--he resides in pretty good
style at Knightsbridge--called and said that Gates had stolen a cheque
or draft for five hundred pounds, and other articles sent through him to
some house in the city, of which I think he said the principal was dead.
He was advised to apply through a solicitor to a magistrate, and went
away, we supposed, for that purpose; but about three hours afterwards
he returned, and in a hurried, flurried sort of way said he had been
mistaken, and that he withdrew every charge he had made against Mr.
Gates."
"Very odd."
"Yes; but I don't see how it can be in any way connected with this Mrs.
Grey's affairs. Still, do you think it would be of any use to sound
Rivers? I know the fellow well, and where I should be pretty sure to
find him this evening."
It was arranged he should do so, and I proceeded on to Sherrard Street.
Mrs. Grey was alone in the front apartment of the ground-floor, and
received me with much politeness. She had, I saw, been weeping; her eyes
were swollen and bloodshot; and she was deadly pale; but I looked in
vain for any indication of that utter desolation which a woman like her,
condemned to such a sacrifice, might naturally be supposed to feel. I
felt greatly embarrassed as to how to begin; but at length I plunged
boldly into the matter; assured her she was cruelly deceived by Gates,
who was in no condition to provide for her and her son in even tolerable
comfort; and that I was convinced he had no other than a mercenary and
detestable motive in seeking marriage with her. Mrs. Grey heard me in so
totally unmoved a manner, and the feeling that I was really meddling
with things that did not at all concern me, grew upon me so rapidly, as
I spoke to that unanswering countenance, that by the time I had finished
my eloquent harangue, I was in a perfect fever of embarrassment and
confusion, and very heartily wished myself out of the place. To my
further bewilderment, Mrs. Grey, when I had quite concluded, informed
me--in consideration, she said, of the courtesies I had shewn her when
we were fellow-travelers--that she was perfectly aware Mr. Gates' motive
in marrying her was purely a mercenary one; and her own in consenting
to the union, except as regarded her son, was, she admitted, scarcely
better. She added--riddle upon riddles!--that she knew also that Mr.
Gates was very poor--insolvent, she understood. I rose mechanically to
my feet, with a confused notion swimming in my head that both of us at
all events could not be in our right senses. This feeling must have been
visible upon my face; for Mrs. Grey added with a half-smile, "You cannot
reconcile these apparent contradictions; be patient; you will perfectly
comprehend them before long. But as I wish not to stand too low in your
estimation, I must tell you that Mr. Gates is to subscribe a written
agreement that we separate the instant the ceremony has been performed.
But for that undertaking, I would have suffered any extremity, death
itself, rather than have consented to marry him!"
Still confused, stunned, as it were, by what I had heard, my hand was on
the handle of the door to let myself out, when a thought arose in my
mind. "Is it possible, Mrs. Grey," I said, "that you can have been
deceived into a belief that such a promise, however formally set down,
is of the slightest legal value?--that the law recognises, or would
enforce, an instrument to render nugatory the solemn obligation you
will, after signing it, make, 'to love, honor, obey, and cherish your
husband?'" I had found the right chord at last. Mrs. Grey, as I spoke,
became deadly pale; and had she not caught at one of the heavy chairs,
she would have been unable to support herself.
"Do I understand you to say," she faintly and brokenly gasped, "that
such an agreement as I have indicated, duly sealed and witnessed, could
not be summarily enforced by a magistrate?"
"Certainly it could not, my dear madam, and well Gates knows it to be
so; and I am greatly mistaken in the man, if, once the irrevocable
ceremony over, he would not be the first to deride your credulity."
"If that be so," exclaimed the unfortunate lady with passionate despair,
"I am indeed ruined--lost! Oh my darling boy, would that you and I were
sleeping in your father's quiet grave!"
"Say not so," I exclaimed with emotion, for I was afflicted by her
distress. "Honor me with your confidence, and all may yet be well."
After much entreaty, she despairingly complied. The substance of her
story, which was broken by frequent outbursts of grief and lamentation,
was as follows:--She was the only child of a London merchant--Mr. Walton
we will call him--who had lived beyond his means, and failed ruinously
to an immense amount. His spirits and health were broken by this event,
which he survived only a few months. It happened that about the time of
the bankruptcy she had become acquainted with Mr. John Grey, the only
son of an eminent East India merchant, but a man of penurious
disposition and habits.
"Mr. Ezekiel Grey?"
The same. They became attached to each other, deeply so; and knowing
that to solicit the elder Grey's consent to their union would be
tantamount to a sentence of immediate separation and estrangement, they
unwisely, thoughtlessly, married, about ten months after Mr. Walton's
death, without the elder Grey's knowledge. Gates, an attorney, then in
apparently fair circumstances, with whom young Mr. Grey had become
acquainted, and Anne Crawford, Maria Walton's servant, were the
witnesses of the ceremony, which, after due publication of banns, was
celebrated in St. Giles's Church. The young couple, after the marriage,
lived in the strictest privacy, the wife meagrely supported by the
pocket-money allowance of Mr. Ezekiel Grey to his son. Thus painfully
elapsed nine years of life, when, about twelve months previous to the
present time, Mr. Grey determined to send his son to Bombay, in order to
the arrangement of some complicated claims on a house of agency there.
It was decided that, during her husband's absence, Mrs. John Grey should
reside in Guernsey, partly with a view to economy, and partly for the
change of air, which it was said their son required--Mr. Gates to be the
medium through which money and letters were to reach the wife. Mr.
Ezekiel Grey died somewhat suddenly about four months after his son's
departure from England, and Mrs. Grey had been in momentary expectation
of the arrival of her husband, when Gates came to Guernsey, and
announced his death at Bombay, just as he was preparing for the voyage
to England! The manner of Gates was strange and insolent; and he plainly
intimated that without his assistance both herself and child would be
beggars; and that assistance he audaciously declared he would only
afford at the price of marriage! Mrs. Grey, overwhelmed with grief for
the loss of a husband by whom she had been as constantly as tenderly
beloved, and dizzy with ill-defined apprehension, started at once for
London. A copy of the will of Mr. Ezekiel Grey had been procured, by
which in effect he devised all his estate, real and personal, to his
son; but in the event of Mr. John Grey dying unmarried, or without
lawful issue, it went to his wife's nephew Mr. Skelton----
"Skelton of Knightsbridge?"
Yes: in case of Mr. John Grey marrying, Skelton was to be paid an
immediate legacy of five thousand pounds. So far, then, us fortune went,
the widow and her son seemed amply provided for. So Mrs. Grey thought
till she had another interview with Gates, who unblushingly told her
that unless she consented to marry him, he would not prove, though he
had abundant means of doing so, that the person she had married at St.
Giles's Church was the son of Ezekiel Grey, the eminent merchant! "The
name," said the scoundrel, "will not help you; there are plenty of John
Greys on that register; and as for Anne Crawford, she has been long
since dead." Mrs. Grey next called on Mr. Skelton, and was turned out of
the house as an impostor; and finally, having parted with everything
upon which she could raise money, and Gates reiterating his offer, or
demand rather, accompanied by the proposal of an immediate separation,
she had consented.
"Courage, madam!" I exclaimed at the end of her narrative, of which the
above is the substance, and I spoke in a tone of joyous confidence,
which, more than my words, reassured her: "I already see glimpses of
daylight through this maze of villainy. Gates has played a desperate
game certainly, but one which we shall, you may rely on it, easily
baffle." A knock at the door interrupted me. I peered through the blind,
and saw that it was Gates: "Silence--secrecy!" I emphatically urged in a
low voice, and with my finger on my lip, and left the room before the
street-door could be answered; and by my friend Roberts' contrivance, I
was in a few minutes afterwards in the street, all the time unobserved
by the intruder.
The next day early Jackson called on me. He had seen Rivers, but he
seemed to know nothing, except, indeed, that it was quite true Gates had
received a five-hundred pound draft from a house in India, which he,
Rivers, had got notes for at the Bank of England. There were also in the
same parcel a gold watch, he knew, and some jewelry, but from whom it
all came, he, Rivers, was ignorant. Nothing but that had Jackson been
able to discover.
"Call you that nothing?" said I, starting up, and hastily swallowing my
last cup of coffee. "It is enough, at all events, to transport William
Gates, Esquire!"
I had to wait that morning on especial business on the commissioner; and
after the business upon which I had been summoned had been despatched, I
related the case of Grey _versus_ Gates as clearly and succinctly as I
could. He listened with great attention, and in about a quarter of an
hour I left him with as clear and unmistakable a path before me as it
was possible to desire. I was passing down the stairs when I was
resummoned.
"You quite understand, Waters, that Skelton is not for a moment to be
lost sight of till his deposition has been taken?"
"Certainly, sir."
"That will do then."
Arrived at home, I despatched my wife in a cab for Mrs. Grey. She soon
arrived, and as much as was necessary of our plan I confided to her. Mr.
Gates had pressed her earnestly that the ceremony should take place on
the following morning. By my directions she now wrote, although her
trembling fingers made an almost unintelligible scrawl of it, that as it
_was_ to be, she agreed to his proposition, and should expect him at
nine o'clock.
Two hours afterwards, Jackson and I, having previously watched the
gentleman home, knocked at Mr. Skelton's house, Knightsbridge, and
requested to see him. At the very moment, he came out of a side-room,
and was proceeding up stairs.
"Mr. Skelton," said I, stepping forward, "I must have a private
interview with you!" He was in an instant as pale as a corpse, and
shaking like an aspen--such miserable cowards does an evil conscience
make men--and totteringly led the way, without speaking, to a small
library.
"You know me, Mr. Skelton, and doubtless guess the meaning of my
errand?"
He stammered out a denial, which his trembling accents and ashy
countenance emphatically denied.
"You and Gates of the Minories are engaged in a felonious conspiracy to
deprive Mrs. Grey and her infant son of their property and inheritance!"
Had he been struck by a cannon-shot, he could not have fallen more
suddenly and helplessly upon the couch close to which he was standing.
"My God!" he exclaimed, "what is this?"
Perceiving he was quite sufficiently frightened, I said, "There is no
wish on Mrs. Grey's part to treat you harshly, so that you aid us in
convicting Gates. For this purpose, you must at once give the numbers of
the notes Gates obtained for the cheque, and also the letter in which
the agent at Bombay announced its transmission through Gates."
"Yes--yes!" he stammered, rising, and going to a secrétaire. "There is
the letter."
I glanced over it. "I am glad to find," I said, "that you did not know
by this letter that the money and other articles here enumerated had
been sent by the dying husband to his wife through Gates."
"I most solemnly assure you I did not!" he eagerly replied,
'until--until"----
"Mr. Gates informed you of it, and seduced you to conspire with him. He
has been playing a double game. Whilst amusing you, he purposes marrying
Mrs. Grey to-morrow morning!"
"Is it possible? But I suspected"----
"No doubt. In the meantime, you will, if you please, accompany us. There
is every desire to spare you," I added, perceiving him hesitate; "but
our orders are peremptory." With a very ill grace Mr. Skelton complied,
and we were rapidly driven off.
The next morning Jackson, Skelton, and myself, were in Sherrard Street
before daybreak. Mrs. Grey was already up and at eight o'clock we sat
down with her and her son to an excellent breakfast. She was charmingly
dressed in the wedding garments which Gates had purchased with her
stolen money, and I almost felt it in my heart to pity the unfortunate
bridegroom, rascal as he was, about to be suddenly disappointed of such
a bride and such a fortune! It was very necessary that she should be so
arrayed, for, as we had thought quite probable, Rivers called a few
minutes past eight with a present of jewelry, and the bride's appearance
must have completely disarmed any suspicion which his master might have
entertained.
Breakfast was over: Mrs. Grey, with her son, was seated on a couch in
the front room, and we were lying _perdu_ in the next apartment,
separated only by folding-doors, when a coach drew up before the house;
a bridegroom's impatient summons thundered at the door; and presently
forth stepped Mr. Gates, resplendently attired, followed by his man
Rivers, who was, it appeared, to give the bride away. Mr. Gates entered
the presence of beautiful Mrs. Grey in immense triumph. He approached
her with the profoundest gallantry; and was about to speak, when Jackson
and I, who had been sedulously watching through the chink of the
slightly-opened doors, advanced into the room, followed by Mr. Skelton.
His attitude of terror and surprise was one of the most natural
performances I ever witnessed. He turned instinctively as if to flee.
My grasp was in an instant on his collar.
"The game is up, my good Mr. Gates: I arrest you for felony!"
"Felony!"
"Ay, truly. For stealing a gold watch, diamond pin, and a cheque for
five hundred pounds, sent through you to this lady."
All his insolent swagger vanished in an instant, and the abject
scoundrel threw himself at Mrs. Grey's feet, and absolutely howled for
mercy.
"I will do anything," he gaspingly protested; "anything you require, so
that you will save me from these men!"
"Where is Crawford?" I asked, desirous of taking immediate, but not, I
hope, unfair advantage of the rascal's terror; "she who witnessed this
lady's marriage?"
"At Leamington, Warwickshire," he replied.
"Very good. Now, Mrs. Grey, if you will leave us, I shall be obliged. We
must search this gentleman, and perhaps"----. She vanished in an
instant: her gentleness of disposition was, I saw, rapidly mastering all
resentment. I carried the watch we took out of Gates's pocket to her,
and she instantly recognised it to be her husband's. A fifty and a
twenty-pound bank-note, corresponding to the numbers on our list, we
extricated from the disappointed bridegroom's pocket-book. "And now,
sir, if you please," said I, "we will adjourn to your lodgings." A
savage scowl was his only reply, not at all discomposing to me, and we
were soon busy ransacking his hidden hoards. We found several other
articles sent by Mr. John Grey to his wife, and three letters to her,
which, as corroborative evidence, would leave no doubt as to _who_ her
husband was. Our next visit was to a police court, where Mr. William
Gates was fully committed for trial. He was in due time convicted of
stealing the watch, and sentenced to transportation for seven years.
Mrs. Grey's marriage, and her son's consequent succession to the
deceased merchant's wealth, were not disputed. She has never remarried,
and lives now in beneficent affluence in one of the new squares beyond
the Edgeware Road with her son, who though now six-and-twenty years of
age, or thereabouts, is still unappropriated; but "the good time is
coming," so at least hinted a few days ago the fashionable "Morning
Post."