BOW STREET.
The moment Mr. Dykes had lodged his prisoner in one of the cells
attached to the court, he hurried off to Piccadilly Hill, and knocked
loudly at the door of Lady Hatfield's residence.
Upon explaining the nature of his business to the domestic who answered
the summons, he was admitted into an apartment where Lady Hatfield and
Miss Mordaunt almost immediately joined him.
Lady Hatfield was the orphan daughter of the Earl and Countess of
Mauleverer. She was an only child: the proud title of Mauleverer had
become extinct with the demise of her father; but the family property
had devolved to her. She was in her twenty-fifth year, and surpassingly
beautiful:—the style of her loveliness was fascinating and
intellectual—rendered the more interesting, too, by the tinge of
melancholy which characterised her countenance. Her eyes were large and
of a deep blue: the soul sate enthroned on her pale and lofty
forehead;—her smile, though always plaintively mournful, denoted
amiability and kindness. In stature she was of the middle height; and,
though in the least degree inclining to _embonpoint_, yet the fulness of
her form marred not its lightness nor its grace. The bust was rounded in
voluptuous luxuriance—and the hips were expanded;—but the waist was
naturally small—the limbs tapered gradually downwards—and her step was
so elastic, while her gait was easy though dignified, that even the most
critical judge of female attractions could not have found it in his
heart to cavil at her symmetry.
Miss Mordaunt was a lady who had seen thirty-five summers, although she
would have gone into hysterics had any one suggested that such was
really the fact. She was short, thin, and not particularly good-looking;
for her hair was of so decided a red that it would have been a mockery
instead of a compliment to term it auburn: her eyes were grey, and her
nose suspiciously inclining to the species called "pug:"—but her
complexion was good, her teeth well preserved and white, and her hand
very beautifully formed. Thus, when she looked in her glass—which was as
often as she passed near it—she mentally summed up the good and the bad
points of her personal appearance, invariably striking a balance in
favour of the first, and thence arriving at the very logical conclusion
that she should yet succeed in escaping from a condition of single
blessedness.
It was a little after eleven o'clock when Lady Hatfield and Miss
Mordaunt were informed that Mr. Dykes requested an immediate interview
with them. Some event of that morning's occurrence had already produced
a strange—an almost alarming effect upon Georgiana—such was Lady
Hatfield's Christian name: and in order to regain her spirits—to recover
indeed from a sudden shock which she had received—her ladyship had
proposed an early airing in the carriage. To this Julia, who had some
"shopping to do," readily assented. They had accordingly just completed
their toilette for the purpose, and were now waiting in the drawing-room
for the arrival of the chariot, when the announcement of Mr. Dykes's
name called such an ejaculation of anguish from Lady Hatfield's lips,
that Miss Mordaunt was seriously alarmed.
But Georgiana,—the expression of whose countenance indicated for an
instant the agony of a heart wounded to its very core,—subdued her
emotions by a violent effort; and then, in answer to her friend's
solicitous inquiries, attributed the temporary agitation she had
experienced to a sudden pain passing through her head.
It was nevertheless with feelings of mingled terror and repugnance that
Georgiana accompanied Julia to the room where the Bow Street officer
awaited them.
Her very eye-lids quivered with suspense, when she found herself in the
presence of the celebrated thief-taker.
"Well, ladies," exclaimed Mr. Dykes, rising from a chair, and making an
awkward bow as they entered, "I've good news for you: the highwayman
is——"
"Is——" repeated Georgiana, with nervous impatience.
"Is in custody, my lady; and all I now want——"
"Who is in custody?" demanded Georgiana, hope for a moment wildly
animating her.
"The man that robbed you last night, my lady," answered the officer; "or
else I'm dam——beg pardon—very much mistaken."
"But how do you know he is the same?" exclaimed Lady Hatfield. "Perhaps
you may have erred—your suspicions may have misled you——"
"Ah! my lady," interrupted Dykes, totally mistaking the cause of
Georgiana's warmth; "you surely ain't going to plead in favour of a chap
that stopped you on the King's highway, and did then and there steal
from your person and from the person of your friend——"
"Describe the individual whom you have arrested," said Lady Hatfield
abruptly.
"To a nicety I will," answered the officer, who was now completely in
his element. "About thirty years of age—good complexion—light curly
hair—red whiskers—dark blue eyes—splendid teeth—thick lips——But here's
your carriage come round to the door, my lady; and nothing could
possibly be more convenient. Please not to waste time—as I think we can
get him committed to-day."
The moment Dykes had begun his description, Lady Georgiana's eyes
expressed the agonising nature of the suspense which she endured; but as
he continued, and his portraiture became the more definite, an ashy
paleness overspread her countenance.
This agitation on her part was not however perceived by either the Bow
Street officer or Miss Mordaunt; for the former had a habit of fixing
his eyes on the knob of his ash stick when he was engrossed in a
professional topic; and the latter was drinking in with greedy ears the
description of the supposed highwayman, whom she was quite astonished to
hear represented as so very discrepant from her idea of what a midnight
desperado must be.
The arrival of the carriage was, under the circumstances, quite a relief
to Georgiana; and, without uttering another objection, she allowed Mr.
Dykes to have his own way in the matter.
That experienced officer rang the bell as coolly as if the house was his
own, and desired that the man-servant and lady's-maid, who were in
attendance on their mistress the preceding night, would prepare to
accompany him to Bow Street.
Mason and Charlotte speedily obeyed this request, and the chariot,
instead of taking the ladies up Bond Street, conveyed them, the two
servants, and Mr. Dykes, to the police-office.
On their arrival, Mr. Dykes conducted his witnesses into a private room,
and, after an absence of about five minutes, returned with the
intelligence that the night charges were just disposed of, and that the
prisoner was about to be placed in the dock.
A shudder passed through Georgiana's frame; but, with a desperate effort
to compose herself, she followed Mr. Dykes into the court, Miss Mordaunt
and the two servants remaining in the private room until they should be
summoned individually to give their testimony.
As Georgiana was a lady of rank and fortune she was not treated as a
humble witness would have been, but was accommodated with a chair, Mr.
Dykes assuring her, in a confidential whisper, that she need not stand
up to give her evidence.
The body of the court was crowded with a motley assembly of spectators,
the news that a highwayman was about to be examined having spread like
wildfire throughout the neighbourhood.
Scarcely was Georgiana seated, when a sensation on the part of the crowd
enabled her to judge that the accused was being brought in; and as Tom
Rain leapt nimbly into the dock, she cast a rapid glance towards him—a
glance in which terror was combined with indescribable disgust and
aversion.
The accused affected not to notice her, but lounged in a very easy and
familiar fashion over the front of the dock; surveying, first Sir Walter
Ferguson, and then the clerk, with a complacency which would have almost
induced an uninitiated stranger to imagine that _they_ were the
prisoners and _he_ was the magistrate.
Mr. Dykes, being called upon by Sir Walter to explain the nature of the
charge against the prisoner, declared that, "in consequence of
information which he had received," (the invariable phraseology of old
police-officers,) "he had arrested the accused on suspicion of having
stopped Lady Hatfield's carriage on the preceding evening, and robbed
her ladyship and her ladyship's friend of certain monies specified in an
advertisement which he had caused to be inserted in that morning's
paper." Mr. Dykes further stated that, having searched the prisoner, he
had found upon him a considerable sum in gold; but none of the
Bank-notes stolen.
Lady Hatfield was then sworn, and she corroborated the officer's
statement relative to the robbery.
"Has your ladyship any reason to suppose that the prisoner in the dock
is the person by whom your carriage was stopped?" inquired the
magistrate.
"I feel well convinced, sir," was the reply, delivered, however, in a
tremulous tone, "that the prisoner at the bar is _not_ the man by whom I
was robbed."
A smile of triumph curled the lips of Tom Rain; but Mr. Dykes surveyed
Georgiana with stupid astonishment.
"Not the man, my lady!" he ejaculated, at length: "why, last night, your
ladyship could give no description of what the robber was or what he was
not!"
"Dykes, hold your tongue!" cried the magistrate: "her ladyship is upon
her oath."
"Your worship," said Georgiana, in a firmer voice than before, "I was so
bewildered last evening—so overcome with terror——"
"Naturally so, Lady Hatfield," observed the magistrate, with a very
courteous smile, which seemed to say that he would rather believe the
bare word of a member of the aristocracy—especially a lady—than the
oaths of all his officers and runners out together. "In fact," continued
Sir Walter blandly, "you were too much flurried, to use a common
expression, to reply calmly and deliberately to any questions which
Dykes may have put to you last evening."
"Such was indeed the case, your worship," answered Georgiana. "This
morning, however, I have been enabled to collect my ideas, and to recall
to mind the smallest details of the robbery. The highwayman had a black
mask upon his face; but, by a sudden movement of his horse, as he stood
by the carriage window, the mask slipped aside, and I caught a glimpse
of his countenance by the moonlight."
"And that countenance?" said the magistrate.
"Was quite different from the prisoner's," replied Lady Hatfield firmly.
"Your ladyship did not make that statement when I gave you the
description of the prisoner just now," said Dykes, evidently bewildered
by the nature of Georgiana's testimony.
"Because you hurried me away, together with my friend and two of my
servants, in a manner so precipitate that I had no time to utter a
word," returned Lady Hatfield. "Moreover, as you had taken the prisoner
into custody, I believed it to be necessary that his case should be
brought beneath the cognizance of his worship."
Georgiana spoke in a tone apparently so decided and calm, that the
officer knew not how to reply; although in his heart he suspected her
sincerity.
The magistrate consulted the clerk; and, after the interchange of a few
whispers, Sir Walter said, "I see no reason for detaining the prisoner:
there is evidently some mistake on your part, Dykes."
"Your worship," exclaimed the officer, "I know not what to think. Can
the prisoner give a good account of himself? He rides into London from
Richmond at six o'clock this morning; puts his horse up at an inn in the
Borough; goes to a coffee-house in another street to have his breakfast,
and leaves a pair of pistols for the waiter to take care of for him;
then walks over to a suspicious public not a hundred miles from this
court; meets there a man that me and my partners have long had our eyes
on; and, when he is searched, has a large sum in gold about his person."
"Do you hear what the officer says, prisoner?" inquired the magistrate.
"I do, your worship," answered Tom Rain, coolly; "and I can explain it
all. I come up to London on business, which requires the sum of money
found upon me. I put up my horse where I think fit; and I go elsewhere
to get my breakfast, because I can have it cheaper than at the inn. I
was armed with pistols because I had to travel a lonely road in the
dark; and I left them at the coffee-house because I did not choose to
drag them about with me all day long."
Mr. Dykes was about to reply, when two decently-dressed men, who had
entered the court a few minutes previously, stepped forward.
"Please, your worship," said the first, "I have known Mr. Rainford the
last four years; and a more respectable man does not exist. He came up
to London to buy a couple of horses of me; and he was to pay ready
money. My name's Watkins, your worship; and I've kept livery and bait
stables in Great Queen Street, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, for the last
seventeen years."
"And I, your worship," said the other person, in his turn, "can answer
for Mr. Rainford. If you doubt my respectability, your worship, send one
of your officers round to Compton Street, and see if the name of
Bertinshaw isn't painted up in precious large letters over the best
jeweller's shop——"
"_And_ pawnbroker's," interrupted Mr. Dykes significantly.
"Well—and pawnbroker's, too," added Bertinshaw: "I'm not ashamed of the
calling."
"Then you are both prepared to guarantee the prisoner's appearance at
any future time?" said the magistrate.
"Certainly, your worship," was the joint reply.
"To answer any charge that may be brought against him?" continued Sir
Walter.
The response was again in the affirmative on the part of Watkins and
Bertinshaw.
The magistrate stated the amount of the recognizances which were to be
entered into, and Tom Rain was desired to stand down from the dock.
This intimation he obeyed with the same air of calm indifference which
had characterized him throughout the proceedings, and which had only
been for a moment disturbed by the profound astonishment he had
experienced when two men, whom he had never before seen nor even heard
of in his life, stepped forward to give him so excellent a character and
become his bail. But a moment's reflection convinced him that Old Death
was the unseen friend who worked the machinery of this manœuvre.
While the clerk was filling up the bail-bond, Lady Georgiana retired
from the office, her bosom a prey to feelings of a strangely conflicting
nature,—joy at having passed through an ordeal which she had
dreaded—grief at having stained her soul with the fell crime of
deliberate perjury—and agony at the sad reminiscences which the presence
of Rainford had recalled so forcibly to her mind.
Miss Mordaunt and the two servants were astonished to hear the
unexpected turn which the proceedings had taken; but their attention was
almost immediately absorbed in the condition of Lady Hatfield, who
scarcely had time to communicate to them the result of her examination
in the court, when a sudden faintness came over her. She had exhausted
all her energies in the endeavour to maintain an air of calmness, and to
reply in a tone of sincerity when in the presence of the magistrate; and
now a reaction took place—her courage gave way—the weight of fearful
reminiscences overpowered her—the glow of excitement which had mantled
her cheeks changed to a death-like pallor—and she fainted in the arms of
her friend.
Fortunately, Miss Mordaunt had a bottle of volatile salts with her; and
by these means Georgiana was speedily recovered. She was then led to her
carriage; but she did not appear to breathe freely until the vehicle was
some distance from the police-court.
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