engagements mentioned with my man were unable to sell their votes and
consciences to Mr. Twitch, if he had been inclined to buy them; because,
if he had bought up the tainted electors, he would thereby have insured
a petition against his return, with the certainty that his rival would,
by a scrutiny, unseat him. The returning officer received a similar
letter and a similar list.
The poll being kept open under these circumstances, the general result
may be pretty well ascertained by the reader's imagination; but, for
his particular information, I may state that the numbers announced by
the returning officer were:
Jollefat 209
Twitch 64
Fipps 1
The consequence was, that the first-named gentleman was duly returned,
and took his seat, and was for a period of several years the
unchallenged representative of the borough of N----. It is fair to say
that he was returned, at a comparatively small cost, by a large majority
of the honest suffrages of the decent men of the borough. My man, I
believe, had succeeded in disqualifying for once all the corruption of
that notorious place.
The landlord of the Green Swan was of course very glum over his
misfortunes. He managed to get his broken glass and other damage
repaired at the expense of the Hundred; but he had given up all chance
of recovering his debt from Mr. Fipps, when he received a letter from a
well-known political solicitor of Westminster, stating it was not the
desire of Mr. Fipps that any person's honest claim should go
unsatisfied; and that if mine host would make out his account and
forward it to him, it should be examined, and if found correct be
settled. The account was duly rendered, and on being scrutinised or
audited was deemed excessive. Two-thirds of the total amount--that is to
say, 100_l._--was remitted him; and, although 50_l._ was thus knocked
off, I have solid reason for believing he did not fare ill by the
candidature of Horatio Mount-Stephen Fipps.
One little circumstance none of us had anticipated now arose, to our
embarrassment. The payment of that bill of the landlord of the Green
Swan told the story of Fipps's purse with approximate accuracy. Mr.
Jollefat, the successful candidate, was now suspected by many people of
being near the bottom of my Great Trick. To get at him, however, it was
necessary to track and attack Fipps, which, I am sorry to say, the
disappointed free and independent electors who could not vote at the
late election succeeded in doing. How they discovered him is to me a
secret at this day; but they certainly did somehow find him out, and
they assaulted him by a battery of writs issued out of her Majesty's
Court of Common Pleas, at Westminster. A counsel learned in the law
advised that we had a good defence to these actions, on the ground that
the agreements for service were contracts to pay money either to induce
men to vote--which was bribery--or not to vote, which rendered the
engagements null and void. About the first point I believe there could
be no doubt; around the second I believe there did exist much room for
speculation and legal ingenuity. Mr. Jollefat, however, wished to avoid
discredit with his constituents; so it was thought expedient to get rid
of the difficulty by another mode. Fipps was a man of cosmopolitan
tastes, and he had not the phrenological organs of locality and
adhesiveness largely developed. It mattered not much to him on which
side of the Atlantic or of the Pacific he dwelt. Somebody on his
behalf, an attorney, intimated to the solicitor for Mr. Jollefat that it
would be cheaper to "square" Fipps than to submit to the game process
all the voters and their actions. One hundred pounds was the sum named
as one that would take the eloquent and popular candidate beyond the
jurisdiction of her Majesty's judges and officers. The amount was
provided, and he quietly set sail, or rather took steam, for the United
States of America, where, I am told, an ample scope and opportunity for
the exercise of the peculiar abilities of that popular candidate has
always been found in the service of the various parties who divide the
spoils of the Model Republic.
MISTAKEN IDENTITY
An eminently respectable tradesman was seated in his cosy little
parlour, or counting-house, at the back of his shop, within a mile of
the Mansion House in the City of London, one summer afternoon in the
year 1861. His wife was the only other person present on this occasion.
It was an unusual circumstance for this lady to be there, as Mr. Delmar
also occupied, for purposes of residence, a neat little house in an
eastern suburb of the metropolis. He was, moreover, the father of a
family. He had four sons and three daughters, whose ages varied between
seven and twenty-two. He was churchwarden of the parish in which he
carried on business. He was regarded as the very pattern of domestic
virtue, and a model of rectitude in business. Few men, indeed, in the
whole world enjoyed a better reputation than Mr. Delmar. Nobody had ever
breathed a word against his character, and nobody had a right to do so.
His fireside was as cheerful as moderate prosperity, a good wife, and
dutiful children could render it.
These particulars about Mr. Delmar, his family, his connexions, his
circumstances, and his reputation, are necessary to enable the reader to
appreciate the incidents I have to describe.
Mrs. Delmar had come to town, on the present occasion, for the
legitimate purpose of shopping. She was giving her prudent spouse an
estimate of the call she needed--or considered that she needed--to make
upon his purse for a variety of domestic necessities, from little
child's-shoes to her own and her eldest daughter's bonnets. Mr. Delmar
was checking off the anticipated outlay, or, as I may put it, revising
the domestic estimates, with a prudence quite commendable and, I also
think, consistent with a good husband and father's affection for those
dependent on him.
An assistant of Mr. Delmar's entered the parlour, or counting-house, and
observed, "A gentleman wishes to see you, sir, in the shop."
"Show him in, Williams."
"He says he wishes to see you privately, sir."
"Privately!" exclaimed Mr. Delmar, in tones of surprise; "show him in;"
and the speaker glanced at his better half as he finished the sentence.
Williams left the room and informed the gentleman, who was standing in
the shop, that his master wished him to walk in.
"You told me," observed the unknown visitor to the shopman, "that Mrs.
Delmar was with her husband?"
"Yes, sir," was the reply.
"I would rather Mr. Delmar should step out to me."
"He will not do it, sir. He says you are to go in to him."
"Well, I will see him."
The unknown visitor advanced to the apartment in which the worthy and
happy couple were closeted; he cautiously, not to say nervously, opened
the door, and seemed to halt in the execution of his purpose.
"I would very much rather see you alone, sir, for a moment."
"You cannot see me alone, sir; this lady is my wife."
"My business is private."
"I have no private business or secrets unknown to my wife, sir,"
exclaimed Mr. Delmar, growing a little irritated.
"Well, sir, you will oblige me if you will step out a moment."
"I tell you, sir, I have no secrets from my wife. What is your
business?"
"You really, sir----"
"What do you mean, sir? I insist upon your telling me immediately what
brings you here. And if you do not, I will kick you into the street."
Mr. Delmar uttered these words in a tone which alarmed his visitor, who,
perhaps, apprehended the fulfilment of the threat which his delicacy had
elicited; but, summoning his courage, he advanced towards the desk and
took from his pocket a paper, which he handed in silence to the
astonished and indignant husband.
It was a summons to show cause why he should not maintain a female child
which one Selina Wilkins, chambermaid at the Griffin's Head Hotel (an
excellent hostelry, well known to commercial travellers on the midland
road who call at the town of ----), was the mother of.
Mr. Delmar was a man who had seen much of the world, although he had,
happily for himself, not known many of its vicissitudes, or its
wickednesses and perils. His knowledge and experience were, however, at
fault on the present occasion. During two or three minutes of perfect
silence, in which the three persons glanced at one another alternately,
Mr. Delmar was a prey to conflicting emotions and cross purposes. At
first he was disposed, without warning, to enforce the threat he had not
long ago made, and punish the agent of the infamous practical joke now
being practised at his expense, as he conceived it, by inflicting upon
him an ignominious and severe chastisement. Next, he trembled before a
vague apprehension that some foul conspiracy might have been devised for
the ruin of his own and his family's domestic peace. The inquiry passed
through his mind. Had he acted prudently in compelling the disguised
officer to serve the process in the presence of Mrs. Delmar? Should he
treat the messenger who brought this scandalous official libel with
civility? Should he take him into confidence? What, indeed, should he
do?
Within the brief space of three minutes he had many times doubted
whether, after all, it was a prudent thing for a man of business, and a
man of the world, to let his wife know all his secrets. At last he
resolved to pursue in this emergency that frankness and uprightness
towards his wife, which had been the source of so much comfort to them
both in those various emergencies which even the serene life of a
prosperous London tradesman occasionally encounters.
The wife had looked on the previous scene in amazement and fear. The
changing hues of her husband's countenance, the twitching of the muscles
in his face, the spasmodic movement of his limbs, under suppressed rage,
disgust, and dread, told her that the document she had seen handed to
him was the premonitory note of something very dreadful. If she had not
so well and thoroughly known the rectitude and honourableness of the
father of her children, she might have jumped to the conclusion, in her
bewilderment, that he had committed forgery, or murdered some one, and
that the summons was a warrant for his apprehension on a charge that
might have consigned him to Portland or led him to the gallows.
The officer was the first to break silence.
"It is a painful duty, sir."
"Never mind. But what does this mean?" Mr. Delmar replied, rapidly
passing from affected indifference to painful curiosity.
"You see, sir, what it is," said the officer.
Had Mr. Delmar's leg and boot been slighter than they were, a smile
might have passed from the inner to the outer man of the speaker.
"I know, sir, what it is," retorted Mr. Delmar; and summoning all his
moral resolution, and lifting himself to a height of moral dignity,
which perhaps he had never occupied in any one moment of his wedded
life, from the day when in his young and pure manhood he had taken that
woman, every way worthy, to be his partner and help-meet to the altar,
he added:
"I am very glad indeed, sir, for one thing only,--that I did not
consent to see you, or accept at your hand this infamous paper, unknown
to my wife."
Still Mrs. Delmar was silent, bewildered, and intensely anxious.
"I have done my duty," said the officer, in an apologetic tone, glancing
at the door, as if desirous of withdrawing.
"You may leave," said Mr. Delmar.
I draw a veil over the scene which followed. It is enough, at all
events, the reader should know that Mr. Delmar read the document to his
wife, explained its exact purport, and craved her assistance in
penetrating the mystery. He had no occasion to ask her whether she
believed him guilty of the offence attributed to him. She volunteered an
assurance of her belief in its untruthfulness. She felt and declared
that it was the result of some awful mistake of personal identity, or
some most foul conspiracy.
It would be incorrect to say that the interchange of confidence did not
leave a painful sense of the possible consequences of this mysterious
incident; yet it may be affirmed that the event did not estrange a
particle of that woman's love, nor for a moment excite in her breast one
flimsy or evanescent doubt of the fidelity of her husband.
The unfortunate man who was thus called upon to defend himself against a
charge of which he was no more guilty than my reader is, went to his
lawyer, who said he could not make it out. This gentleman, Mr. Drawly,
was at a loss to determine whether his client was fool enough to be
deceiving him, or whether he was the victim of what Mrs. Delmar had
called a foul conspiracy, or whether an artfully planned scheme of
extortion had been practised against him.
I was now consulted. I should have liked to have been intrusted with
full personal discretion, so that I might have investigated the mystery
in my own way. I think I might have more easily cleared it up, if I had
not been embarrassed by the definiteness of my instructions. I was,
however, told to inquire, in the first place, whether Selina Wilkins had
employed any solicitor, and if so, to put myself in communication with
him. I was told to use my best skill in tracing what I could; at the
same time, if the professional man on the other side were a man of
reputation, to deal frankly with him. I was to explain the position in
life and the character of the defendant, and urge the improbability of
his having committed any such offence against domestic propriety as that
he was charged with; and I was told to endeavour to get the affair
cleared up or settled without scandal or notoriety.
I did as I was requested. My habit, when my instructions from solicitors
were definite, was to follow them implicitly. This commonly saved me
much trouble, and when the result was not unsatisfactory I liked that
course all the better; but sometimes the plan a little tantalised and
vexed me, because I conceived that through it I missed my aim, and did
not obtain the credit by success I might otherwise have done.
In this case I ascertained that the young woman had, on the
recommendation of her former master and mistress, employed a solicitor,
who stood very high among the lawyers in that part of the country where
he dwelt. He received me courteously, and expressed his willingness to
tell me all about the case. He, however, insisted that the defendant
must be a wily rascal, a consummate hypocrite, a mean-spirited fellow,
&c. &c. He told me there could not be the shadow or shade of a doubt
about the case; and he entered into the matter in the spirit of a
partisan imbued with the righteousness of the side he was engaged to
fight on.
As to the identity of the person, he thought any defence on that head
must break down; for he had obtained, through his agents in London, a
description of Mr. Delmar, which corresponded exactly to the description
given him by his "unfortunate client." It is true that the poor girl had
not, he said, seen the fellow since her misfortune, because she had not
the money to pay visits to London; nor, indeed, was her strength
sufficient to enable her to make that journey and back without peril to
her life. Grief and shame and bitter mortification had held her tongue
until the last possible moment; and it was only when material evidence
of her wrong-doing became palpable to her mistress, that she admitted
the injury which had been done her. "Why, sir," observed the provincial
lawyer, "even after the poor girl's condition had been ascertained, she
refused to tell who was the author of her misery, and clung to the
foolish belief that, as he was a perfect gentleman, he would one day
redeem his promise by making her his wife. The way it was found out,
sir, was this. She went home to be confined. Her mother one night
searched her little portmonnaie, and there found the blackguard's card.
So her friends ascertained his name and address."
When I had obtained these particulars from Selina Wilkins's attorney, it
was almost post-time; so I wrote an account of my interview with the
lawyer as rapidly as I could, and sent it to London to the solicitor
from whom I had received my instructions.
I had an answer by electric telegraph, desiring me to pursue my
inquiries, as there could be no doubt the case was one of conspiracy or
fraud.
Some of the further particulars of this mysterious case had perhaps
better be stated in the brief narrative I can furnish of the inquiry
before the magistrates.
On the day appointed for the hearing Mr. Delmar came down from London,
attended by his confidential and most respectable solicitor, and by a
gentleman of the long robe whose name had figured in a thousand
Old-Bailey narratives. The young woman was examined. Amid tears and sobs
and threatened hysterics, she related her story. It was to the effect
that a gentleman, or "commercial," she styled him, who had visited the
town of ----, and stayed five or six times at the hotel where she had
been in service, had paid his addresses to her with great ardour, and,
under cover of a promise of marriage, effected her ruin. She had no
hesitation in declaring that the defendant was the man. The card on
which was printed his name and address was produced in Court. A severe
cross-examination by the defendant's counsel did nothing to shake these
allegations. Although the gentleman had not been many times to the hotel
in question, he appeared quite familiar with the town, and she had seen
him enter a rival hostelry before she knew him as one of her master's
guests or customers. The defendant was sworn. He denied that he had ever
seen the young woman before, or that he had been in the town for several
years, or that he had ever in his life stayed at the hotel where she had
been employed.
The complainant's attorney argued that the case against the defendant
was conclusive. It did not, he said, admit of a shadow of doubt. He
heaped vituperative aspersions upon the head of the defendant, for
adding insult to injury by his disreputable defence. The defendant's
counsel, on the other hand, contended that the evidence of the
complainant was incomplete; that it was in several respects highly
improbable; and that it should not counterbalance the testimony of the
most respectable defendant in his own behalf. The learned gentleman
called upon the magistrates to dismiss the case, and intimated that, if
the decision were against his client, he should appeal. The magistrates
agreed with the complainant's attorney; expressed an opinion that she
was a much ill-used young woman; and said a few things uncomplimentary
of the defendant, upon whom they expressed their willingness to do what,
by the way, they could not help doing, I believe--that is, give him an
opportunity of appealing against their decision.
It will occur to the reader that there were several means of rebutting
some of the special facts upon which the complainant's case must have
rested, as it did rest, although I omit them for the sake of brevity, as
they are not necessary to the explanation I have to give of one leading
fact.
The reader will wonder how that card of the defendant's fell into the
hands of the complainant. I will say at once, in order to clear away
some mystery, that the young woman herself was no doubt honestly
mistaken, although somewhat rash in the evidence she gave as to the
identity of her undoer.
But, unless some confederate had given her that card, how could she have
obtained it? It must have been palmed off upon her by some unmitigated
villain, who was content to divert inquiry from his own track into that
of an innocent and right-minded man's household, to the peril of the
destruction of his own and his family's happiness.
To track this miscreant was my special mission. I had not much time to
effect a discovery before the appeal must be heard and decided.
Mr. Delmar could not help me. He had given his card, at various times,
to various people; and within a few years a few hundred persons might
have been the conscious or unconscious media, direct or remote, of
conveying the fatal pasteboard from his hand to that of the complainant.
After I had been a week engaged in the effort to track the double
culprit--having, let me frankly say, no clue by which I hoped to
discover him--I was getting weary of the task, when a ray of light
dawned through the imperfect memory of Mr. Delmar. He recollected that,
about ten months before the complaint was laid against him at ----, he
had been obliged to visit Norwich on urgent business. A man who owed him
a considerable sum of money was then in embarrassment, and had called a
meeting of his creditors, at which Mr. Delmar was invited to attend.
After this business had been completed, he intended returning to town by
a late train, but allowed himself to be detained in conversation with
his fellow-sufferers until it became necessary to abandon that
intention. He accordingly put up for the night at the Saracen's Head
Hotel, and sought to while away the hours which intervened before
bed-time by a social pipe and glass in the commercial room. Here he met,
as a stranger of unpretentious manner always does, with a cordial
greeting and good-fellowship. One man, however, Mr. Delmar became very
chatty and familiar with. This man, who told him his business--that is
to say, what "line" he was in--in the course of conversation took out
his card-case and was about to hand Mr. Delmar his card, when
unfortunately, as he said, he found that he was out of cards, but he
told him his address. Mr. Delmar also took out his card-case, and, very
unfortunately indeed, as the sequel shows, he gave the commercial his
printed name and address.
I was not long in drawing the inference--nor would any person, I
apprehend, be--that this commercial was the villain of my story.
With a photograph of Mr. Delmar in my pocket, I speedily took my ticket
for Norwich, and had not much doubt about overtaking the rascal.
Would the reader like to know how I got hold of the fellow? It will
appear a very simple and easy process when explained, and I don't take
much credit for it. Give a shrewd man a clue, and I warrant you, if he
have time and opportunity, he will follow it to the end.
Well, then, the way I pursued the clue to its extremity was this. I
concluded at once in my own mind that this man's "proclivities" had been
manifested wherever he went, and that at more than one of the hotels and
commercial inns on his road he would have left a clear recollection of
his name and line on the retina of a pretty chambermaid.