"A clever fellow that," says I, putting the letter into my private drawer.
"Clever!" cries Mr. Frank, "he ought to be horsewhipped within an inch of
his life. I would have done it myself; but she made me promise, before she
told me a word of the matter, to come straight to you."
"That was one of the wisest promises you ever made," says I. "We can't
afford to bully this fellow, whatever else we may do with him. Do you
think I am saying anything libelous against your excellent father's
character when I assert that if he saw the letter he would certainly
insist on your marriage being put off, at the very least?"
"Feeling as my father does about my marriage, he would insist on its being
dropped altogether, if he saw this letter," says Mr. Frank with a groan.
"But even that is not the worst of it. The generous, noble girl herself
says that if the letter appears in the paper, with all the unanswerable
comments this scoundrel would be sure to add to it, she would rather die
than hold me to my engagement, even if my father would let me keep it."
As he said this his eyes began to water. He was a weak young fellow, and
ridiculously fond of her. I brought him back to business with another rap
of the paper-knife.
"Hold up, Mr. Frank," says I. "I have a question or two more. Did you
think of asking the young lady whether, to the best of her knowledge, this
infernal letter was the only written evidence of the forgery now in
existence?"
"Yes, I did think directly of asking her that," says he; "and she told me
she was quite certain that there was no written evidence of the forgery
except that one letter."
"Will you give Mr. Davager his price for it?" says I.
"Yes," says Mr. Frank, quite peevish with me for asking him such a
question. He was an easy young chap in money matters, and talked of
hundreds as most men talk of sixpences.
"Mr. Frank," says I, "you came here to get my help and advice in this
extremely ticklish business, and you are ready, as I know without asking,
to remunerate me for all and any of my services at the usual professional
rate. Now, I've made up my mind to act boldly--desperately, if you
like--on the hit or miss, win all or lose all principle--in dealing with
this matter.
"Here is my proposal. I'm going to try if I can't do Mr. Davager out of
his letter. If I don't succeed before to-morrow afternoon, you hand him
the money, and I charge you nothing for professional services. If I do
succeed, I hand you the letter instead of Mr. Davager, and you give me
the money instead of giving it to him. It's a precious risk for me, but
I'm ready to run it. You must pay your five hundred anyway. What do you
say to my plan? Is it Yes, Mr. Frank, or No?"
"Hang your questions!" cries Mr. Frank, jumping up; "you know it's Yes ten
thousand times over. Only you earn the money and----"
"And you will be too glad to give it to me. Very good. Now go home.
Comfort the young lady--don't let Mr. Davager so much as set eyes on
you--keep quiet--leave everything to me--and feel as certain as you please
that all the letters in the world can't stop your being married on
Wednesday."
With these words I hustled him off out of the office, for I wanted to be
left alone to make my mind up about what I should do.
The first thing, of course, was to have a look at the enemy. I wrote to
Mr. Davager, telling him that I was privately appointed to arrange the
little business matter between himself and "another party" (no names!) on
friendly terms; and begging him to call on me at his earliest convenience.
At the very beginning of the case, Mr. Davager bothered me. His answer
was, that it would not be convenient to him to call till between six and
seven in the evening. In this way, you see, he contrived to make me lose
several precious hours, at a time when minutes almost were of importance.
I had nothing for it but to be patient, and to give certain instructions,
before Mr. Davager came, to my boy Tom.
There never was such a sharp boy of fourteen before, and there never will
be again, as my boy Tom. A spy to look after Mr. Davager was, of course,
the first requisite in a case of this kind; and Tom was the smallest,
quickest, quietest, sharpest, stealthiest little snake of a chap that ever
dogged a gentleman's steps and kept cleverly out of range of a gentleman's
eyes.
I settled it with the boy that he was not to show at all when Mr. Davager
came; and that he was to wait to hear me ring the bell when Mr. Davager
left. If I rang twice, he was to show the gentleman out. If I rang once,
he was to keep out of the way, and follow the gentleman wherever he went
till he got back to the inn. Those were the only preparations I could make
to begin with; being obliged to wait, and let myself be guided by what
turned up.
About a quarter to seven my gentleman came.
In the profession of the law we get somehow quite remarkably mixed up with
ugly people, blackguard people, and dirty people. But far away the ugliest
and dirtiest blackguard I ever saw in my life was Mr. Alfred Davager. He
had greasy, white hair and a mottled face. He was low in the forehead, fat
in the stomach, hoarse in the voice, and weak in the legs. Both his eyes
were bloodshot, and one was fixed in his head. He smelled of spirits, and
carried a toothpick in his mouth.
"How are you? I've just done dinner," says he; and he lights a cigar, sits
down with his legs crossed, and winks at me.
I tried at first to take the measure of him in a wheedling, confidential
way; but it was no good. I asked him, in a facetious, smiling manner, how
he had got hold of the letter. He only told me in answer that he had been
in the confidential employment of the writer of it, and that he had always
been famous since infancy for a sharp eye to his own interests.
I paid him some compliments; but he was not to be flattered. I tried to
make him lose his temper; but he kept it in spite of me. It ended in his
driving me to my last resource--I made an attempt to frighten him.
"Before we say a word about the money," I began, "let me put a case, Mr.
Davager. The pull you have on Mr. Francis Gatliffe is, that you can hinder
his marriage on Wednesday. Now, suppose I have got a magistrate's warrant
to apprehend you in my pocket? Suppose I have a constable to execute it in
the next room? Suppose I bring you up to-morrow--the day before the
marriage--charge you only generally with an attempt to extort money, and
apply for a day's remand to complete the case? Suppose, as a suspicious
stranger, you can't get bail in this town? Suppose----"
"Stop a bit," says Mr. Davager. "Suppose I should not be the greenest fool
that ever stood in shoes? Suppose I should not carry the letter about me?
Suppose I should have given a certain envelope to a certain friend of mine
in a certain place in this town? Suppose the letter should be inside that
envelope, directed to old Gatliffe, side by side with a copy of the letter
directed to the editor of the local paper? Suppose my friend should be
instructed to open the envelope, and take the letters to their right
addresses, if I don't appear to claim them from him this evening? In
short, my dear sir, suppose you were born yesterday, and suppose I
wasn't?" says Mr. Davager, and winks at me again.
He didn't take me by surprise, for I never expected that he had the letter
about him. I made a pretense of being very much taken aback, and of being
quite ready to give in. We settled our business about delivering the
letter, and handing over the money, in no time.
I was to draw out a document, which he was to sign. He knew the document
was stuff and nonsense, just as well as I did, and told me I was only
proposing it to swell my client's bill. Sharp as he was, he was wrong
there. The document was not to be drawn out to gain money from Mr. Frank,
but to gain time from Mr. Davager. It served me as an excuse to put off
the payment of the five hundred pounds till three o'clock on the Tuesday
afternoon. The Tuesday morning Mr. Davager said he should devote to his
amusement, and asked me what sights were to be seen in the neighborhood of
the town. When I had told him, he pitched his toothpick into my grate,
yawned, and went out.
I rang the bell once--waited till he had passed the window--and then
looked after Tom. There was my jewel of a boy on the opposite side of the
street, just setting his top going in the most playful manner possible.
Mr. Davager walked away up the street toward the market-place. Tom whipped
his top up the street toward the market-place, too.
In a quarter of an hour he came back, with all his evidence collected in a
beautifully clear and compact state. Mr. Davager had walked to a
public-house just outside the town, in a lane leading to the highroad.
On a bench outside the public-house there sat a man smoking. He said, "All
right?" and gave a letter to Mr. Davager, who answered "All right!" and
walked back to the inn. In the hall he ordered hot rum-and-water, cigars,
slippers, and a fire to be lit in his room. After that he went up-stairs,
and Tom came away.
I now saw my road clear before me--not very far on, but still clear. I had
housed the letter, in all probability for that night, at the Gatliffe
Arms. After tipping Tom, I gave him directions to play about the door of
the inn, and refresh himself when he was tired at the tart-shop opposite,
eating as much as he pleased on the understanding that he crammed all the
time with his eye on the window. If Mr. Davager went out, or Mr. Davager's
friend called on him, Tom was to let me know. He was also to take a little
note from me to the head chambermaid--an old friend of mine--asking her to
step over to my office, on a private matter of business, as soon as her
work was done for that night.
After settling these little matters, having half an hour to spare, I
turned to and did myself a bloater at the office fire, and had a drop of
gin-and-water hot, and felt comparatively happy.
When the head chambermaid came, it turned out, as good luck would have it,
that Mr. Davager had drawn her attention rather too closely to his
ugliness, by offering her testimony of his regard in the shape of a kiss.
I no sooner mentioned him than she flew into a passion; and when I added,
by way of clinching the matter, that I was retained to defend the
interests of a very beautiful and deserving young lady (name not referred
to, of course) against the most cruel underhand treachery on the part of
Mr. Davager, the head chambermaid was ready to go any lengths that she
could safely to serve my cause.
In a few words I discovered that Boots was to call Mr. Davager at eight
the next morning, and was to take his clothes down-stairs to brush as
usual. If Mr. D---- had not emptied his own pockets overnight, we
arranged that Boots was to forget to empty them for him, and was to bring
the clothes down-stairs just as he found them. If Mr. D----'s pockets were
emptied, then of course, it would be necessary to transfer the searching
process to Mr. D----'s room. Under any circumstances, I was certain of the
head chambermaid; and under any circumstances, also, the head chambermaid
was certain of Boots.
I waited till Tom came home, looking very puffy and bilious about the
face; but as to his intellect, if anything, rather sharper than ever. His
report was uncommonly short and pleasant. The inn was shutting up; Mr.
Davager was going to bed in rather a drunken condition; Mr. Davager's
friend had never appeared.
I sent Tom (properly instructed about keeping our man in view all the next
morning) to his shake-down behind the office-desk, where I heard him
hiccoughing half the night, as even the best boys will, when overexcited
and too full of tarts.
At half-past seven next morning I slipped quietly into Boots's pantry.
Down came the clothes. No pockets in trousers. Waistcoat pockets empty.
Coat pockets with something in them. First, handkerchief; secondly, bunch
of keys; thirdly, cigar-case; fourthly, pocketbook. Of course I wasn't
such a fool as to expect to find the letter there, but I opened the
pocketbook with a certain curiosity, notwithstanding.
Nothing in the two pockets of the book but some old advertisements cut out
of newspapers, a lock of hair tied round with a dirty bit of ribbon, a
circular letter about a loan society, and some copies of verses not likely
to suit any company that was not of an extremely free-and-easy
description. On the leaves of the pocketbook, people's addresses scrawled
in pencil, and bets jotted down in red ink. On one leaf, by itself, this
queer inscription:
"MEM. 5 ALONG. 4 ACROSS."
I understood everything but those words and figures, so of course I copied
them out into my own book.
Then I waited in the pantry till Boots had brushed the clothes, and had
taken them up-stairs. His report when he came down was, that Mr. D----had
asked if it was a fine morning. Being told that it was, he had ordered
breakfast at nine and a saddle-horse to be at the door at ten, to take him
to Grimwith Abbey--one of the sights in our neighborhood which I had told
him of the evening before.
"I'll be here, coming in by the back way, at half-past ten," says I to the
head chambermaid.
"What for?" says she.
"To take the responsibility of making Mr. Davager's bed off your hands for
this morning only," says I.
"Any more orders?" says she.
"One more," says I. "I want to hire Sam for the morning. Put it down in
the order-book that he's to be brought round to my office at ten."
In case you should think Sam was a man, I'd better perhaps tell you he was
a pony. I'd made up my mind that it would be beneficial to Tom's health,
after the tarts, if he took a constitutional airing on a nice hard saddle
in the direction of Grimwith Abbey.
"Anything else?" said the head chambermaid.
"Only one more favor," says I. "Would my boy Tom be very much in the way
if he came, from now till ten, to help with the boots and shoes, and stood
at his work close by this window which looks out on the staircase?"
"Not a bit," says the head chambermaid.
"Thank you," says I; and stepped back to my office directly.
When I had sent Tom off to help with the boots and shoes, I reviewed the
whole case exactly as it stood.
There were three things Mr. Davager might do with the letter. He might
give it to his friend again before ten--in which case Tom would most
likely see the said friend on the stairs. He might take it to his friend,
or to some other friend, after ten--in which case Tom was ready to follow
him on Sam the pony. And, lastly, he might leave it hidden somewhere in
his room at the inn--in which case I was all ready for him with a
search-warrant of my own granting, under favor always of my friend the
head chambermaid.
So far as I had my business arrangements all gathered up nice and compact
in my own hands. Only two things bothered me--the terrible shortness of
the time at my disposal, in case I failed in my first experiments for
getting hold of the letter, and that queer inscription which I had copied
out of the pocketbook:
"MEM. 5 ALONG. 4 ACROSS."
It was the measurement most likely of something, and he was afraid of
forgetting it; therefore it was something important. Query--something
about himself? Say "5" (inches) "along"--he doesn't wear a wig. Say "5"
(feet) "along"--it can't be coat, waistcoat, trousers, or underclothing.
Say "5" (yards) "along"--it can't be anything about himself, unless he
wears round his body the rope that he's sure to be hanged with one of
these days. Then it is _not_ something about himself.
What do I know of that is important to him besides? I know of nothing but
the Letter. Can the memorandum be connected with that? Say, yes. What do
"5 along" and "4 across" mean, then? The measurement of something he
carries about with him? or the measurement of something in his room? I
could get pretty satisfactorily to myself as far as that; but I could get
no further.
Tom came back to the office, and reported him mounted for his ride. His
friend had never appeared. I sent the boy off, with his proper
instructions, on Sam's back--wrote an encouraging letter to Mr. Frank to
keep him quiet--then slipped into the inn by the back way a little before
half-past ten. The head chambermaid gave me a signal when the landing was
clear. I got into his room without a soul but her seeing me, and locked
the door immediately.
The case was, to a certain extent, simplified now. Either Mr. Davager had
ridden out with the letter about him, or he had left it in some safe
hiding-place in his room. I suspected it to be in his room, for a reason
that will a little astonish you--his trunk, his dressing-case, and all the
drawers and cupboards, were left open. I knew my customer, and I thought
this extraordinary carelessness on his part rather suspicious.
Mr. Davager had taken one of the best bedrooms at the Gatliffe Arms. Floor
carpeted all over, walls beautifully papered, four-poster, and general
furniture first-rate. I searched, to begin with, on the usual plan,
examining everything in every possible way, and taking more than an hour
about it. No discovery.
Then I pulled out a carpenter's rule which I had brought with me. Was
there anything in the room which--either in inches, feet, or
yards--answered to "5 along" and "4 across"? Nothing. I put the rule back
in my pocket--measurement was no good, evidently. Was there anything in
the room that would count up to 5 one way and 4 another, seeing that
nothing would measure up to it?
I had got obstinately persuaded by this time that the letter must be in
the room--principally because of the trouble I had had in looking after
it. And persuading myself of that, I took it into my head next, just as
obstinately, that "5 along" and "4 across" must be the right clue to find
the letter by--principally because I hadn't left myself, after all my
searching and thinking, even so much as the ghost of another guide to go
by.
"Five along"--where could I count five along the room, in any part of it?
Not on the paper. The pattern there was pillars of trellis-work and
flowers, enclosing a plain green ground--only four pillars along the wall
and only two across. The furniture? There were not five chairs or five
separate pieces of any furniture in the room altogether. The fringes that
hung from the cornice of the bed? Plenty of them, at any rate.
Up I jumped on the counterpane, with my pen-knife in my hand. Every way
that "5 along" and "4 across" could be reckoned on those unlucky fringes I
reckoned on them--probed with my pen-knife--scratched with my
nails--crunched with my fingers. No use; not a sign of a letter; and the
time was getting on--oh, Lord! how the time did get on in Mr. Davager's
room that morning.
I jumped down from the bed, so desperate at my ill luck that I hardly
cared whether anybody heard me or not. Quite a little cloud of dust rose
at my feet as they thumped on the carpet.
"Hullo!" thought I, "my friend the head chambermaid takes it easy here.
Nice state for a carpet to be in, in one of the best bedrooms at the
Gatliffe Arms." Carpet! I had been jumping up on the bed, and staring up
at the walls, but I had never so much as given a glance down at the
carpet. Think of me pretending to be a lawyer, and not knowing how to look
low enough!
The carpet! It had been a stout article in its time; had evidently began
in a drawing-room; then descended to a coffee-room; then gone up-stairs
altogether to a bedroom. The ground was brown, and the pattern was bunches
of leaves and roses speckled over the ground at regular distances. I
reckoned up the bunches. Ten along the room--eight across it. When I had
stepped out five one way and four the other, and was down on my knees on
the center bunch, as true as I sit on this chair I could hear my own heart
beating so loud that it quite frightened me.
I looked narrowly all over the bunch, and felt all over it with the ends
of my fingers, and nothing came of that. Then I scraped it over slowly and
gently with my nails. My second finger-nail stuck a little at one place. I
parted the pile of the carpet over that place, and saw a thin slit which
had been hidden by the pile being smoothed over it--a slit about half an
inch long, with a little end of brown thread, exactly the color of the
carpet ground, sticking out about a quarter of an inch from the middle of
it.
Just as I laid hold of the thread gently, I heard a footstep outside of
the door.
It was only the head chambermaid. "Haven't you done yet?" she whispers.
"Give me two minutes," says I, "and don't let anybody come near the
door--whatever you do, don't let anybody startle me again by coming near
the door."
I took a little pull at the thread, and heard something rustle. I took a
longer pull, and out came a piece of paper, rolled up tight like those
candle-lighters that the ladies make. I unrolled it--and, by George there
was the letter!
The original letter! I knew it by the color of the ink. The letter that
was worth five hundred pounds to me! It was all that I could do to keep
myself at first from throwing my hat into the air and hurrahing like mad.
I had to take a chair and sit quiet in it for a minute or two, before I
could cool myself down to my proper business level. I knew I was safely
down again when I found myself pondering how to let Mr. Davager know that
he had been done by the innocent country attorney, after all.
It was not long before a nice little irritating plan occurred to me. I
tore a blank leaf out of my pocketbook, wrote on it with my pencil,
"Change for a five-hundred-pound note," folded up the paper, tied the
thread to it, poked it back into the hiding-place, smoothed over the pile
of the carpet, and then bolted off to Mr. Frank.
He in his turn bolted off to show the letter to the young lady, who first
certified to its genuineness, then dropped it into the fire, and then took
the initiative for the first time since her marriage engagement, by
flinging her arms round his neck, kissing him with all her might, and
going into hysterics in his arms.
So at least Mr. Frank told me.
It is evidence, however, that I saw them married with my own eyes on the
Wednesday; and that while they went off in a carriage-and-four to spend
the honeymoon, I went off on my own legs to open a credit at the Town and
County Bank with a five-hundred-pound note in my pocket.
As to Mr. Davager, I can tell you nothing more about him, except what is
derived from hearsay evidence, which is always unsatisfactory evidence.
My inestimable boy, Tom, although twice kicked off by Sam the pony, never
lost hold of the bridle, and kept his man in sight from first to last. He
had nothing particular to report except that on the way out to the Abbey
Mr. Davager had stopped at a public-house, had spoken a word or two to his
friend of the night before, and had handed him what looked like a bit of
paper. This was no doubt a clue to the thread that held the letter, to be
used in case of accidents.
In every other respect Mr. D. had ridden out and ridden in like an
ordinary sightseer. Tom reported him to me as having dismounted at the
hotel about two. At half-past I locked my office-door, nailed a card under
the knocker with "not at home till to-morrow" written on it, and retired
to a friend's house a mile or so out of the town for the rest of the day.
Mr. Davager, I have been since given to understand, left the Gatliffe Arms
that same night with his best clothes on his back, and with all the
valuable contents of his dressing-case in his pockets. I am not in a
condition to state whether he ever went through the form of asking for his
bill or not; but I can positively testify that he never paid it, and that
the effects left in his bedroom did not pay it either.
When I add to these fragments of evidence that he and I have never met
(luckily for me, you will say) since I jockeyed him out of his bank-note,
I have about fulfilled my implied contract as maker of a statement with
you, sir, as hearer of a statement. Observe the expression, will you? I
said it was a Statement before I began; and I say it's a Statement now
I've done. I defy you to prove it's a Story! How are you getting on with
my portrait? I like you very well, Mr. Artist; but if you have been taking
advantage of my talking to shirk your work, as sure as you're alive I'll
split upon you to the Town Council!
Books.
They are delightful when prosperity happily smiles; when
adversity threatens they are inseparable comforters. Arts
and sciences, the benefits of which no mind can calculate,
depend upon books.
--Richard Aungerville (Richard de Bury, tutor of Edward III,
1281-1345).