JENNY'S ADVICE
After this plain warning: after knowing the nature of the design against
me: after the savage threats of the man Probus: I ought to have
hesitated no longer: I should have taken Alice and the child to her
brother Tom, and should then have retired somewhere until the inevitable
bankruptcy relieved me from fear of conspiracy. Once before, I had
suffered from delay: yet had I not learned the perils of
procrastination. I had formed in my mind an idea that they would try in
some way to fix upon me the crime of forgery, and I thought that this
would take time: so that I was not hurried: I confess that I was
disquieted: but I was not hurried.
On Monday morning I repaired to Soho Square and laid the whole business
before Jenny.
'Will,' she said, after hearing all and asking a few questions, 'this
seems a very serious affair. You have to deal with a man driven frantic
by the loss of all his money: the money that he has spent his life in
scraping together. He throws out hints about your possible death in the
counting-house, and makes a bargain in case you die: he threatens you
with some mysterious revenge.'
'I believe he will trump up some charge of forgery.'
'He is quite unscrupulous. Now, I will tell you something. The man
Merridew's perjury about your alleged debt put me on the scent. Probus
works through Merridew. First of all Merridew owes him money--more than
he can pay. This debt goes on rolling up. This puts Merridew in his
power. What Probus orders Merridew must do.'
'Is there always behind every villain a greater villain?'
'I suppose so. The greater the rogue the safer he is. Merridew goes to
the shopkeepers and offers to return them stolen goods--at a price. It
is one of his ways of making money. Then he finds out their necessities.
Most shopkeepers are always in want of money. Then Merridew takes them
to Probus who lends them money. Oh! at first there was never such a kind
friend--on the easiest terms: they can pay when they please: then they
want a little more: and so they go on. When their debt has risen to half
the value of their stock, Probus wants to be paid. Then he sells them
up. The father of the family becomes bankrupt and goes into a prison for
the rest of his days: what becomes of the children I know not--no one
knows. I dare say some of them go to St. Giles's.'
This is what Jenny told me. I know not if it is true, but I think it
must be.
'Well, you see, that Probus pulls the strings and sets Merridew's arms
and legs at work, and Merridew has all the rogues under his thumb. Now
you understand why the position is serious.'
She considered for a few minutes. 'Will,' she said, 'for sure they will
talk it over at the Black Jack. When anything is arranged it is
generally done in the kitchen and in the morning.' She looked at the
clock. 'It is now nearly one. If I were to go round!' She considered
again. 'Doll will be there. They may be there too. But this time they
must not recognise me. Wait a bit, Will.'
She left me and presently came back dressed, not as an Orange Girl, but
as a common person, such as one may see anywhere in St. Giles's. She had
on a linsey woolsey frock: a dirty white apron all in holes: a kerchief
round her neck: another over her head tied under her chin: a straw hat
also tied under her chin: and woollen mittens on her hands. One cheek
was smudged as by a coal, and her left eye was blackened: no one would
have recognised her. On her arm she carried a basket carefully covered
up.
'Now,' she said, 'I'm a woman with a basket full of stolen goods for
Mother Wilmot.'
I let her out by the garden-door which opened on to Hog's Lane.
Presently she returned: from what she told me, this was what passed.
She found her mother nodding over knitting, and her sister Doll busy
with the slate. The kitchen was well-nigh empty because most of the
frequenters were abroad picking up their living. Like the sparrows they
pick it up as they can from pockets and doorways and from shop bulks.
'Doll,' she whispered. 'Pretend not to know me. Turn over the things in
the basket.'
'What is it, Jenny?'
She looked round the room. There were only two or three sitting by the
fire. 'No one who knows me,' she said. 'Tell me, Doll. Has Mr. Merridew
been here--and when?'
'Why, he's only just gone. Him and the Bishop--and the Captain--and
another one--a gentleman he looked like. All in black.'
'All in black? Was he tall and thin and stooping? So?'
'Yes. They've been talking over it all the morning.'
'What is it, Doll? You've got ears like gimlets. I sometimes think it
must be pleasant to be able to hear so much that goes on.'
'I can hear a thing if I like. The Bishop don't like it, Jenny.' She
dropped her voice. 'It's business for getting a man out of the way.
They'll have to give evidence at the Old Bailey, and he's afraid.'
'How is the man to be put out of the way?'
'I don't know. There's money on it. But they're afraid.'
'Why are they afraid?'
'Because they're going to make a man swing. If he doesn't swing, they
will.'
'I suppose it's an innocent man, Doll.'
'How should I know? It isn't one of themselves. If the case breaks down
they'll have to swing. Mr. Merridew promised them so much, for I heard
him. He means it, too--and they know it. I heard him. "If you do break
down," he says, "after all, you will be no worse off than you are at
present. For your time's up and you know it, both of you. So, if you
break down, you will be arrested for conspiracy and detained on my
information on a capital charge." After which--he made so----' with her
finger on her neck.
'Well, what did they say, Doll?'
'The Bishop said it would be easier and quicker to knock him on the head
at once. Mr. Merridew wouldn't hear of it. He said if they obeyed him
they should have two years' more rope. If not, they knew what to expect.
So they went away with him, looking mighty uneasy.'
'When is it to be, Doll?'
'Lord, sister, you are mighty curious. 'Tis no affair of yours. Best
know nothing, I say. Only a body must hear things. And it makes the time
pass knowing what to expect.'
'Can you find out when it is to be?'
'If I learn, I will tell you. It's all settled, I know that. We shall
have the pair of them giving evidence in the Old Bailey.' Doll laughed
at the thought. 'All St. Giles's will go to the Court to hear--all them
that dare.'
'So they went away with Mr. Merridew,' Jenny repeated, thoughtfully.
'Yes, after a mug of purl, but the Bishop went away shaking. Not on
account of the crime, I suppose, but with the thought of being
cross-examined in the Old Bailey, and the terror that he might be
recognised. But the only London Prison that knew him was the King's
Bench.'
Jenny took up her basket and went away. Just outside the door she met a
young country fellow: he had come up from some village in consequence of
trouble concerned with a girl: Jenny had had speech with him already, as
you have heard, at the Black Jack.
'Jack,' she said, 'you don't remember me: I was at the Black Jack some
time ago in the evening. They called me Madam. Now you remember.'
'Ay----' he said, looking at her curiously. 'But I shouldn't know you
again. You are dressed different.'
'Jack, why don't you go home?'
'A man must live,' he replied.
'You'll be hanged. For sure and certain, one of these days, you'll be
hanged. Now, Jack, I'll give you a chance. Let us sit here by the rails,
and talk--then people won't suspect. You've seen Mr. Merridew to-day. I
thought so. He told you that he might want you on some serious job. I
thought so. Your looks are still innocent, Jack. Now tell me all about
it--and I'll give you money to take you home again out of the way and
safe.'
Jack had very little to tell. He had been in the kitchen that morning.
Mr. Merridew called him--bade him not to go away: said that he should
want him perhaps for a good job: so he waited. Then a gentleman came in:
he was in black--a long, and lean figure. Jack would know him again; and
they all four--but not Jack--talked very earnestly together. Then the
gentleman went away and presently Mr. Merridew also went away, with the
Bishop and the Captain.
'Very good, Jack. I will see you to-morrow morning again--just in the
same place. Don't forget. If anything else occurs you will tell me. Poor
Jack! I should be sorry to see so proper a fellow hanged,' so she nodded
and laughed and pressed his hand and left him.
She came home: she joined me again. There was something hatching; that
was certain.
'Perhaps,' she said, 'the plot is not directed against you. Merridew is
always finding out where a house can be broken or a bale of stuff
stolen.'
'Then what did Probus want there?'
'The long, lean man in black was not Probus, perhaps.'
She considered again.
'After all, Will, I think the best thing is for you to disappear. They
are desperate villains. Get out of their way. Your friend Ramage gave
you the best advice possible. If all he says is true, Matthew cannot
hold out much longer. Once he is bankrupt, your death will no longer
help Probus. Where could you go?'
I told her that I thought of Dublin, where I might get into the
orchestra of the theatre. So after a little discussion, it was settled.
Jenny, always generous, undertook to provide for Alice in my absence,
and gave me a sum of money for present necessities.
I stayed there all day. In the evening I played at a concert in the
Assembly Room. After the concert I took supper with Jenny.
During supper Jenny entertained me with a fuller description of the
wretches from whose hands she was trying to rescue me. There was no turn
or trick of villainy that Jenny did not know. She made no excuses for
knowing so much--it was part of her education to hear continually talk
of these things. They make up disguises in which it is impossible to
recognise them: they arrange that respectable people shall swear to
their having been miles away at the time of the crime: they practise on
the ignorance of some: on the cunning of others. They prey upon mankind.
And all the time, behind every villain stands a greater villain. Behind
the humble footpad stands the Captain: behind the Captain stands the
thief-taker: behind the thief-taker stands the money-lender himself
unseen. It would surely be to the advantage of the Law could it tackle
the greater villains first. A cart-load of gentlemen like Mr. Probus on
its way to Tyburn would perhaps be more useful than many cartloads of
poor pickpockets and hedge-lifters. Sometimes, however, as this history
will relate, Justice with tardy step overtakes a Probus, and that with
punishment so dreadful that he is left incapable of any further
wickedness.
'Now,' she said, 'when Probus wants money, he squeezes Merridew. Then he
lays information against some poor wretch who expected a longer rope. In
order to get at these wretches he has to encourage them to break the
law. So you see, if he has to make a payment to Probus, he must
manufacture criminals. As I said, there cannot be many things worse than
the making of criminals for the satisfaction of the money-lender.'
I hardly understood, at the time, the full villainy of this system. In
fact, I was wholly absorbed in my own particular case. What was going to
be done?
About midnight I bade this kindest of women farewell.
'Remember, Will,' she said, 'trust nothing to chance. Take boat down the
river before daybreak. There is sure to be a Holyhead coach somewhere
in the morning. In a month or two you can come back again in safety.'
Yes--I was to come back in safety in that time, but not as Jenny meant.
I shouldered my trusty club and marched off.