FOR FELONY
Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
convenient resting place on the curb.
"Do 'ee but look at un," said one ancient dame. "He! he! Hath a parcel
of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!"
"Fine clothes, eh?" cried another, a portly dame of certain years. "Much
fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone."
"Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un."
"Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much--"
"Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you," cried Mary Cullen herself,
appearing at the door. "'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
Mary Cullen hath."
"Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?" said a voice. "'Twas said that
these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it."
"What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
but turn un free? Tell me that, now!"
"Let's see the fine clothes," said the first old lady to the apprentice
boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
his burden, and so raised the lid.
"Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are," cried the inquisitive
one. "Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
for little while."
"And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
'tis!"
"Well," said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. "I
dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
I go too." Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
main causes for the assemblage at the curb.
The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
jailer mightily.
"Send him along," he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
faithful to his trust.
"Please, sir," said the youth, "I would know if ye have John Law,
Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
clothes are of the finest."
The jailer smiled grimly. "Mr. Law gets presents passing soon," said he.
"Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like."
"Some clothes," said the apprentice. "Some very fine clothes. They are
of our best."
"Ha! ha!" roared the jailer. "Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
boy--or stay, let's have a look in't."
The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
with a long purse, and a long purse might do wonders to help the comfort
of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
"Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad," said he, "and wait till I see
where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
said prisoner did kill--hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see."
"Sir," said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
both remained in the detention room, "a lad hath arrived bearing a
parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them."
"By my faith!" cried Law, "I had entirely forgot my haberdasher."
The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.
"There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list," said the jailer.
"Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly," replied Law. "Will, give
me thy purse, man!"
Will Law obeyed automatically.
"There," said John Law to the jailer. "I am sure the garments will be
very proper. Is it not all very proper?"
The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
replied: "It is, sir, as you say, very proper."
"It would be much relief," said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
bearing the box in his own hands, "if I might don my new garments. I
would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
this garb."
"Sirrah," said the jailer, "there be rules of this place, as you very
well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much--that is to
say--rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says."
"Very well, then," said Law, "I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold."
Enter then, a few moments later, "Beau" Law, "Jessamy" Law, late of
Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, "Jessamy" Law, late of
Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.
He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.
"Kindly have it filled with maccaboy," he said. "See, 'tis quite empty,
and as such, 'tis useless."
"Certainly, Captain Law," said the turnkey. "I am a man as knows what a
gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
you have what you like."
"Will," said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
"come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
and not another."
Will Law burst into tears.
"God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack," he said.
"Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
you well, and see that you sleep sound."
Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.