A BENEVOLENT STRANGER.
Having written to Mr. Vanderseld of Hamburg, there was nothing, pending
the reception of his reply, for even Mr. Townshend to do beyond his
favourite occupation of keeping his eyes open. We advertised, however,
in the "Morning Chronicle" (a print that at that time was far from
looking forward, to death from want of circulation, and the having its
eyes closed by a penny piece), in the "Times," and in the "Sun," and
offered a reward of one hundred guineas for tidings of the missing
baronet; nor, in spite of the Bow Street Runner's depreciating remarks
upon this point, were our efforts in that direction wholly thrown away.
A full description of Sir Massingberd had appeared in the above
newspapers for ten successive days, and on the eleventh, the following
information came of it. We were all breakfasting in Harley Street, Mr.
Long having come up from Fairburn the previous day, when the butler
informed us that there was a man waiting in the hall, who wished to see
"H.G.," who had put a certain advertisement into the "Sun" newspaper.
"Show him in here at once, George," quoth Mr. Gerard, rubbing his hands.
"How pleased I shall be if we learn what we wish to know, after all,
without any help from Bow Street. I beg you will take a chair, sir."
These last words were addressed to a very respectable-looking person,
whom the servant had ushered in, and who bowed to us in a very decorous
and unassuming fashion. He was attired in half-mourning, and carried a
little black leather bag and an umbrella--the latter a less common
companion in these days than a cane is now--as though he had just come
off a journey.
"I have called, gentlemen," said he, "simply in consequence of seeing a
notice respecting the disappearance of a certain individual of whose
whereabouts I am in a position to inform you."
"Is Sir Massingberd Heath alive, sir?" gasped Marmaduke.
"Heaven be praised, he _is_, sir," responded the stranger, fervently.
"Umph," ejaculated Mr. Gerard, with less piety.
Mr. Long coughed behind his fingers, but otherwise kept a discreet
silence.
"You know him, do you, sir?" inquired our host.
"I know him well enough by sight, if, at least, your advertised
description of his personal appearance is accurate," resumed our
visitor. "His height, his beard, the curious indentation upon his
forehead, are all characteristic of the man whom I saw last night, and
whom I have seen every day for weeks. He is living under the name of
Daneton, at Nutgall, a village in Cambridgeshire, near which I reside. I
have not the slightest doubt whatever of his identity. As for knowing
him, except by sight, however, I cannot say that I do. Without meaning
offence, or wishing to hurt the feelings of relations, I may observe
that his mode of life is scarcely one to make acquaintance with him
advantageous. If I may speak without reserve upon the matter, I should
state that he drank considerably, to the extent, indeed, the landlord of
the inn has informed me, of, at least, a bottle and a half of French
brandy _per diem_."
"That _must_ be my uncle," observed Marmaduke, naïvely.
"He is so, sir, without a doubt," continued the stranger. "I do not seek
for any pecuniary reward; but having seen your advertisement, I thought
it my duty to come up hither, and relieve the feelings of anxious
relatives."
Here the door opened, and Mr. Townshend walked in unannounced, as it was
his custom to do. Merely nodding to us all, as though he was an inmate
of the house, he sat down at the table with his back to the visitor, and
helped himself to a roll and butter.
Mr. Gerard explained briefly the stranger's errand to the officer of
justice, and then observed, "Are we to understand, then, that you have
been so good as to come all the way from Nutgall hither, expressly to
give us this information?"
"No, sir," responded the man with frankness; "I should deceive you if I
were to say that much. I have business in the City to-day, and arrived
so far by coach; I came on hither, merely a few miles beyond my mark;
that is all for which you are indebted to me."
"That is a great deal," observed Mr. Long, warmly. "We take it very
kindly that you should have done so much."
"I thought it only my duty, sir," replied the visitor, modestly. "The
trouble I do not take into account."
"What a pity the gentleman did not think of writing by the post,"
observed Mr. Townshend, still proceeding with his breakfast; "that would
have saved him this long expedition, and us many days of anxiety."
"That is very true," returned the stranger; "but the fact is, one does
not always like to answer advertisements in that way. How did I know who
'H.G.' was? I thought also that a personal interview would be more
satisfactory. I am a poor man, but I did not grudge the chance of losing
an hour or two on an errand of charity."
"You are very good," answered Marmaduke, gloomily.
"And you must, please, permit us," added Mr. Long, taking out his purse,
"to at least reimburse you for that loss of time."
"It seems to me," observed Mr. Townshend, speaking with his mouth full,
"that this gentleman is about to be rather hardly dealt by. It is true
that a guinea, or even half a one, may repay him for his lost time; but
if his intelligence respecting Sir Massingberd Heath turns out to be
such as he represents it, he will be entitled to the hundred guineas
reward."
"I never thought of that," observed Mr. Long, returning his purse to his
pocket not without a blush. "I hope, sir, that you will acquit me of any
sordid design in what I proposed to do."
"Most certainly, sir," returned the stranger, with animation; "and
indeed your views, as you just expressed them, are quite in accordance
with my own. I have no wish whatever for the reward in question; to have
done my duty is, I hope, a sufficient recompense for me. On the other
hand, I cannot well afford to lose these two or three hours which have
been expended in your service. A couple of guineas would quite repay me
for this, and even leave the obligation upon my side."
There was a silence for a little, during which Mr. Long gazed
inquiringly at Mr. Gerard, and he, in his turn, looked towards Mr.
Townshend; then, as though the back of that gentleman's head had been
cognizant that counsel was demanded of it, the Bow Street runner spoke
as follows:
"It would be nothing less than a fraud, in my opinion, if this good
gentleman's generosity is taken advantage of in the way he suggests. If
the management of this business is to be in my hands, I should say let
us behave with rectitude at least, if not with liberality. The hundred
guineas are fairly his, if he is correct in what he has told us;
whereas, if he is _not_ correct--since no mistake can have occurred in
the matter, by his own showing--why, this is merely an attempt to extort
money under false pretences."
"Really, Mr. Townshend," cried my tutor, starting to his feet, "I think
your profession of thief-catching makes you very unscrupulous in your
imputations."
For my own part, I felt excessively indignant too; and so, I think,
would Marmaduke have done, had he not been preoccupied with his own
thoughts. Lucy blushed, and cast down her eyes. Her father quietly
observed, "Mr. Townshend may have been somewhat plain-spoken, but what
he has said is common sense. If you will be good enough to leave your
address at Nutgall with us, sir, we shall communicate with you as soon
as we have convinced ourselves of the truth of your suspicions; and then
we shall not only have compensation but apologies to offer you."
"Very good, sir," rejoined the visitor coolly. "My address is upon that
card. If I had known the sort of reception that awaited me here, I
should not perhaps have been so anxious to do my duty. Gentlemen, I
wish you good-day. I am sorry to have interrupted your repast."
"Don't mention it, my good sir," observed the Bow Street runner, as he
disposed of his third slice of ham. "I have treated you as no stranger,
I assure you."
To this sarcasm the visitor made no reply, but bowing to the rest of the
company, was about to withdraw with polite severity, when Mr. Long
stepped forward, and took him by the hand. "I believe you are a
kindly-hearted man," cried he, "who has been grievously wronged by those
whom you have attempted to benefit; but in any case, it cannot do you
any harm to have shaken hands with an honest man, and one who is a
humble minister of the gospel."
I could have jumped up and shaken hands with the stranger also, but a
false shame prevented me. I thought that Townshend was only waiting for
the poor fellow to go to become contemptuously cynical upon those who
had shown any belief in him. The Bow Street runner, however, said never
a word, but proceeded with his interminable breakfast.
Mr. Long was speechless with indignation. I saw Lucy Gerard cast an
approving glance at my excellent tutor, and then an imploring one
towards her father, who was biting his lips, as if to restrain his
laughter.
At last, the rector broke silence. "I gather from what you have stated,
Mr. Townshend, that you will scarcely consider it worth while to go down
to Nutgall, or make any further inquiry into the circumstances of which
you have just heard."
"It will certainly not be worth _my_ while," returned the Bow Street
runner curtly.
"Then I shall go down into Cambridgeshire myself," observed my tutor.
"Very good, sir. If time were less valuable to me, it would give me a
great deal of pleasure to accompany you."
"My dear Peter," remarked my tutor, taking no notice of this wicked
banter, "what do you say to coming with me?"
Even if I had been less disposed to do this than I was, I should still
have readily consented to be the rector's travelling companion, for to
refuse would have been to declare myself upon the enemy's side.
Accordingly, we set off upon this amateur detective expedition that very
day; and on the following evening returned to Harley Street, having
possessed ourselves of this important information: That benevolence is
sometimes assumed for the base purpose of making a few shillings, and
that advertisements are occasionally taken advantage of to the confusion
of those who insert them. There was really a village called Nutgall;
that was the one fact that the respectable person in half-mourning had
brought along with his black leather bag and silk umbrella. There was
not a public-house in the place where Sir Massingberd could have
procured that bottle and a half of French brandy, had he been ever so
disposed to dissipation, or even where we ourselves could get bread and
cheese.
I verily believe, at the time of his disenchantment, my revered tutor
would rather that the baronet had been really at Nutgall, and in the
humour and condition to wage implacable war against poor Marmaduke, than
have given such an opportunity of triumph to the man of Bow Street.