The reader may possibly bear in mind that Mr. Titmouse had established his right to succeed to the Yatton property, then enjoyed by Mr. Aubrey, by making out to the satisfaction of the jury, on the trial at York, that he, the aforesaid Mr. Titmouse, was descended from an elder branch of the Aubrey family; that there had existed an unsuspected female descendant of Stephen Dreddlington, the elder brother of Geoffrey Dreddlington, through whom Mr. Aubrey derived his claim to the succession; and that this obscure female descendant had left issue equally obscure and unsuspected—viz. Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse—to whom our friend Titmouse was shown to be heir-at-law. In fact, it had been made out in open court, by clear and satisfactory evidence, First, that the aforesaid Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse was the direct descendant, through the female line, of Stephen Dreddlington; Secondly, had been shown the marriage of Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse; Thirdly, the birth of Tittlebat Titmouse, the first, and indeed the only issue of that marriage. All these were not only proved, but unquestionable facts; and from them, as far as descent went, the preferable right of Titmouse to that of Aubrey, resulted as an inevitable inference, and the verdict went accordingly. But as soon as, owing to the happy and invaluable suggestion of the Attorney-General, a rigid inquiry had been instituted, on the spot, whence the oral and documentary evidence had been obtained by Mr. Gammon—an inquiry conducted by persons infinitely more familiar with such matters than common lawyers, those acute and indefatigable inquisitors succeeded in making the following remarkable discovery. It was found that the two old witnesses who had been called to prove that part of the case, on the trial, had since died—one of them very recently. But in pushing their inquiries, one or two other old witnesses were met with who had not been called by Mr. Gammon, even if he had been aware of their existence; and one of these, an old man, while being closely interrogated upon another matter, happened to let fall some expressions which startled the person making minutes of the evidence; for he spoke of Mr. Titmouse's mother under three different names, Gubbins, Oakley, and Johnson. Now, the proof of the trial had been simply the marriage of Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse, by bans, to Janet Johnson, spinster. Either, then, both the witnesses must be mistaken as to her having had other names, or there must be some strange mystery at the bottom of it—and so it at length turned out. This woman's maiden name had been Gubbins; then she had married a rope-maker, of the name of Oakley, in Staffordshire, but had separated from him, after two or three years' quarrelsome cohabitation, and gone into Yorkshire, where she had resided for some time with an aunt—in fact, no other person than old Blind Bess! She had subsequently become acquainted with Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse; and to conceal the fact of her previous marriage—her husband being alive at the time—she was married to Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse under the name of "Johnson." Two years afterwards, this exemplary female died, leaving an only child, Tittlebat Titmouse. Shortly afterwards his father came up to London, bringing with him his little son—and some five years subsequently died, leaving one or two hundred pounds behind him for the bringing up of Tittlebat decently—a duty undertaken by a distant relative of his father, and who had been dead some years. Of course, Titmouse, at the time when he was first presented to the reader, knew no more than did the dead of his being in any way connected with the distinguished family of the Aubreys in Yorkshire; nor of the very unpleasant circumstances attending his mother's marriage, with which the reader has just been made acquainted. Nothing can be easier than to conceive how Mr. Gammon might have been able, even if acquainted with the true state of the facts, to produce an impregnable case in court, by calling, with judgment, only that evidence which was requisite to show the marriage of Titmouse's father with Janet Johnson—viz. an examined copy of an entry in the parish register of Grilston; of the fact of the marriage under the names specified; and some other slight evidence of the identity of the parties. How was the Attorney-General, or any one advising him, to have got at the mystery attending the name of "Johnson," in the absence of suspicion pointed precisely at that circumstance? The defendant in an action of ejectment is necessarily in a great measure in the dark as to the evidence which will be adduced against him, and must fight it as it is presented to him in court; and the plaintiff's attorney is generally better advised than to bring into court witnesses who may be able, if pressed, to disclose more than is necessary or desirable!
The way in which Mr. Gammon became acquainted with the true state of the matter, was singular. While engaged in obtaining and arranging the evidence in support of the plaintiff's case, under the guidance of Mr. Lynx's opinion, Mr. Gammon stumbled upon a witness who dropped one or two expressions, which suddenly reminded him of two little documents which had been some time before put into his possession without his having then attached the least importance to them. He was so disturbed at the coincidence, that he returned to town that very night to inspect the papers in question. They had been obtained by Snap from old Blind Bess: in fact, (inter nos,) he had purloined them from her on one of the occasions of his being with her in the manner long ago described, having found them in an old Bible which was in a still older canvas bag; and they consisted of, first, a letter from one James Oakley to his wife, informing her that he was dying, and that, having heard she was living with another man, he exhorted her to leave her wicked courses before she died; secondly, a letter from one Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse to his wife, reproaching her with drunkenness and loose conduct, and saying that she knew as well as he did, that he could transport her any day he liked;[17] therefore she had better mind what she was about. This letter was written in the county jail, whither he had been sent for some offence against the game-laws. Old Blind Bess had been very feeble when her niece came to live with her; and, though aware of her profligate conduct, had never dreamed of the connection between the great family at the Hall and her niece's child. These were the two documents which Mr. Titmouse had destroyed, on Gammon's having intrusted them for a moment into his hands!—Though I do not attach so much importance to them as Mr. Gammon did—since I cannot see how they could have been made available evidence for any purpose contemplated by Gammon—I am not surprised at his having done so. They were infinitely too dangerous documents to admit of his taking the opinion of counsel upon; he therefore kept them entirely to himself, as also the discovery to which they led, not trusting his secret, even to either of his partners. Before the case had come into court, Mr. Gammon had been in possession of the facts now laid for the first time before the reader—contemplating, even then, the use to be thereafter made of the prodigious power he should have become possessed of, in aid of his own personal advancement. Thus was Titmouse base-born indeed—in fact, doubly illegitimate; for, first, his mother had been guilty of bigamy in marrying his father; and, secondly, even had that not been so, her marrying under a false name[18] had been sufficient to make the marriage utterly void, and equally of course to bastardize her issue.
Such, then, was the damning discovery effected by the ecclesiastical commission, and which would by-and-by blazon to the whole world the astounding fact, that this doubly base-born little wretch had been enabled, by the profound machinations of Mr. Gammon, not only to deprive Mr. Aubrey of the Yatton estates, but also to intermarry with the Lady Cecilia, the last of the direct line of the noble Dreddlingtons and Drelincourts—to defile the blood, and blight the honor, of perhaps the oldest and the proudest of the nobility of England. Upon Mr. Gammon, it lit like a thunderbolt. For many hours he seemed to have been utterly crushed and blasted by it. His faculties appeared paralyzed. He was totally incapable of realizing his position—of contemplating the prodigious and appalling consequences which must inevitably and almost immediately ensue upon this discovery of his secret. He lay upon the sofa the whole night without closing his eyes, or having moved a muscle since he had thrown himself down upon it. His laundress came in with his bed-candle, trimmed the lamp, stirred the fire, and withdrew, supposing him asleep. The fire went out—then the lamp—and when, about eight o'clock the next morning, his laundress reappeared, he still lay on the sofa; and a glimpse of his pale and haggard face alarmed her greatly, and she went for a medical man before he was aware of her having done so. On her returning, and informing him of what she had done, it roused him from his lethargy, and, starting from the sofa, he desired her to go back and request the medical man not to come, as it was unnecessary. Heaving profound sighs, he proceeded to his dressing-room, got through his toilet, and then sat down to the breakfast-table, and for the first time made a very powerful effort to address his thoughts steadily to the awful nature of the emergency into which he was driven. Mr. Quod soon after made his appearance.
"This is a very—very—ugly business, Mr. Gammon!" quoth he, with a gloomy countenance. "I look upon it there's an end to the suit—eh?"
"It is not likely that we shall stir further, certainly," replied Mr. Gammon, with a desperate effort to speak calmly: then there was a pause.
"And I should think the matter can't end here," presently added Mr. Quod. "With such evidence as this, of course they'll attack Yatton!"
"Then I am prepared to resist them," said Gammon; convinced in his own mind that the sole object of Mr. Quod's visit was to see after the payment of his bill—a reasonable anxiety, surely, considering the untoward issue of the proceedings.
"How could all this have escaped me, in getting up the case for the trial?" said Gammon, after a while, darting an anxious and furtive glance at his companion.
"Ay—I hope this will teach you common-law fellows that there's a trick or two worth knowing at Doctor's Commons!" replied Mr. Quod. "D'ye remember what I told you at starting?—How was it, d'ye say, you couldn't find it out? No one could, till we did!—But, by the way, do we fight anymore in the cause? Because we must decide at once—it's no use, I should say, going to the expense of a hearing"——
"I will give you an answer in the course of the day, Mr. Quod," replied Gammon, with an air of repressed fury; and succeeded in getting rid of his matter-of-fact but anxious visitor for the present; and then reperused the whole of the evidence, and considered within himself, as well as he was able, what course he ought to pursue. He had need, truly, to do so; for he very shortly found that he had to deal with an enemy in Mr. Runnington—uncompromising and unrelenting—whose movements were equally prompt, vigorous, and skilful. That gentleman, following up his blow, and acting under the advice of Sir Charles Wolstenholme, who had just returned to town for the commencement of the legal year—viz. Michaelmas Term—first of all gave notice, through Mr. Pounce, of his intention to proceed with the suit for administration; but found that the enemy in that quarter had struck; Mr. Quod formally notified his abandonment of opposition on the part of Mr. Titmouse. So far so good. Mr. Runnington's next step was to go down into Staffordshire and Yorkshire, accompanied by Mr. Pounce, and by his own experienced confidential clerk, in order to ascertain still more distinctly and conclusively the nature of the evidence which was in existence impeaching the legitimacy of Mr. Titmouse. His inquiries were so satisfactory, that, within a week of his return to town, he had caused an action of ejectment to be brought for the recovery of the whole of the Yatton property; and copies of the "Declaration" to be served on Mr. Titmouse, and on every tenant in possession upon the estate. Then he served notices on them, calling upon each and every one of them not to pay rent in future to any one except Charles Aubrey, Esquire, or his agents by him lawfully appointed; and caused a formal demand of the title-deeds of the estate to be forthwith made upon Mr. Titmouse, Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son, and Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap; and also advertisements to be inserted in the newspapers, to caution all persons against advancing money on mortgage or on other security of the Yatton property, "formerly in possession of, and now claimed by, Charles Aubrey, Esq., but at present wrongfully held by Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., M.P., and for the recovery of which an action of ejectment has been commenced, and is now pending;" and also from advancing money "on the faith or security of a certain bond conditioned in the penalty of £20,000 for the payment to Tittlebat Titmouse of £10,000, with interest, on or before the 24th day of January next, and dated the 26th July, 18—, and signed by Lord De la Zouch and Charles Aubrey, Esq., the same having been obtained by undue means, and on a false and fraudulent pretence of money being due from the said Charles Aubrey, Esq., to the aforesaid Tittlebat Titmouse." These advertisements, and certain paragraphs relating to the same matter, which found their way into the newspapers, to the consternation of Gammon, came under the eye of the Duke of Tantallan, and struck him dumb with dismay and horror at so decisive and public a corroboration of his worst fears. A similar effect they produced upon Miss Macspleuchan, who, however, succeeded in keeping them for some time from the observation of the unfortunate Earl of Dreddlington. But there were certain other persons in whom these announcements produced an amazing degree of consternation; viz. three Jewish gentlemen, Mordecai Gripe, Mephibosheth Mahar-shalal-hash-baz, and Israel Fang, who were at present the depositaries of Mr. Titmouse's title-deeds, with a lien upon them, as they had fondly imagined, to the extent of nearly seventy thousand pounds—that being the amount of money they had advanced, in hard cash, to Mr. Titmouse, upon mortgage of his Yatton estates. The last of these unfortunate gentlemen—old Mr. Fang—had advanced no less a sum than twenty thousand pounds. He had been the first applied to, and had most fortunately taken a collateral security for the whole sum advanced; viz. a bond—the bond of our old friend, "Thomas Tag-rag, draper and mercer, of No. 375 Oxford Street, and Satin Lodge, Clapham, in the county of Surrey." As soon as ever the dismayed Israelite, by his attorney, had ascertained, by inquiry at the office of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap—where all was confusion—that there really was a claim set up to the whole of the estates, on behalf of him who had been so recently and suddenly dispossessed of them, he exclaimed in an ecstasy, "Oh, ma Got! oh, ma dear Got! Shoo Tag-rag! Shoo on the bond! Looshe no time"——and he was obeyed. Terrible to tell, two big bum-bailiffs the next day walked straight into the shop of Mr. Tag-rag, who was sitting in his little closet at the farther end, with his pen in his hand, busily checking some bills just made out, and without the least ceremony or hesitation hauled him off, hardly giving him time to put his hat on, but gruffly uttering in his ear some such astounding words as "Thirty thousand pounds!" He resisted desperately, shouting out for help; on which all the young men jumped over the counters, and seemed to be coming to the rescue! while one or two female customers rushed affrighted into the street. In short, there was a perfect panic in the shop; though the young men merely crowded round, and clamored loudly, without venturing upon a conflict with the two burly myrmidons of the law, who clapped their prize into a coach standing opposite—Mr. Tag-rag frothing at the mouth, and with impassioned gesticulation, protesting that he would have them both transported to Botany Bay on the morrow. They laughed at him good-humoredly, and in due time deposited him safely in the lock-up of Mr. Vice, who, on seeing that he was disposed to be troublesome, thrust him unceremoniously into the large room in which, it may be recollected, Mr. Aubrey had been for a few minutes incarcerated, and left him, telling him he might write to his attorney. There he continued for a long while in a state bordering on frenzy. Indeed, he must have fancied that the devil had made it, just then, his particular business to worry and ruin him; for what do you think had happened to him only two days before? an event which had convulsed Clapham to its centre—so much, at least, of Clapham as knew of the existence of the Tag-rags and the Reverend Dismal Horror, his chapel and congregation. That young shepherd of faithful souls having long cherished feelings of ardent fondness towards one gentle lamb in his flock in particular—viz. Tabitha Tag-rag—who was the only child of the wealthiest member of his little church—took upon himself to lead her, nothing loath, a very long and pleasant ramble—in plain English, Mr. Dismal Horror had eloped with the daughter of his head deacon—to the infinite scandal and disgust of his congregation, who forthwith met and deposed him from his pulpit; after which his father-in-law solemnly made his will, bequeathing everything he had to a newly-established Dissenters' college; and the next day—being just about the time that the grim priest of Gretna was forging the bonds of Hymen for the happy and lovely couple before him, Mr. Tag-rag was hauled off in the way which I have mentioned—which two occurrences would have the effect of enabling Mr. Dismal Horror to prove the disinterestedness of his attachment—an opportunity for which he vowed that he panted—inasmuch as he and she had become, indeed, all the world to each other. He must now go into some other line of business, in order to support his fond and lovely wife; and, as for Tag-rag, his pious purposes were frustrated altogether. There was no impeaching the validity of the bond held by the infuriate and inexorable Jew who had arrested him, and who clearly had been no party to any fraud by which—if any—the signature of Mr. Tag-rag had been procured. Mr. Tag-rag's attorney, Mr. Snout, instantly called upon Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, to inquire into the particulars of the astounding transaction by which his client had been drawn into so ruinous a liability—but was very cavalierly treated; for he was informed that Mr. Tag-rag must, in their opinion, have lost his senses—at all events his memory; for that he had most deliberately executed the bond, after its nature had been fully explained to him by Mr. Gammon—and his signature was witnessed and attested in the usual way by a clerk in the office, and also in the presence of all the three partners. On hearing all this—and examining Mr. Amminadab, who stated without any hesitation, as the fact in truth was, that he had been called in specially to witness Mr. Tag-rag's execution of the bond, and had seen and heard him sign,[19] and say he delivered it as his act and deed—Mr. Snout hurried back to his frenzied client, and endeavored, for a long while, with praiseworthy patience, to reason with him; explaining to him the glaring improbability of his version of the affair. This led to very high words indeed between them, and at length Mr. Tag-rag actually spit in his face. Mr. Snout, being a very little man, and unable to resent the vile insult effectually, instantly quitted the room, expressing his firm belief that Mr. Tag-rag was a swindler, and he would no more be concerned for a person of that description. Mr. Tag-rag could not procure bail for so fearful an amount; so he committed an act of bankruptcy, by remaining in prison for three weeks. Down, then, came all his creditors upon him in a heap, especially the Jew; a rattling bankruptcy ensued—the upshot of the whole being—to anticipate, however, a little—that a first and final dividend was declared of three farthings in the pound—for it turned out that friend Tag-rag had been, like many of his betters, speculating a great deal more than any one had had the least idea of. I ought, however, to have mentioned that, as soon as he had become bankrupt, and his assignees had been appointed, they caused an indictment to be preferred against Mr. Titmouse, and Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, for fraud and conspiracy in obtaining the bond from Mr. Tag-rag; and on the same grounds, made an application, fortified by strong affidavits, to the Lord Chancellor, to strike the last three gentlemen off the rolls. In addition to all this, the two other unfortunate mortgagees, Mordecai Gripe, and Mephibosheth Mahar-shalal-hash-baz—who had no security at all for their advances except the title-deeds of the estate, and the personal covenant of Mr. Titmouse—beset the office in Saffron Hill from morning to night, like frantic fiends, and nearly drove poor old Mr. Quirk out of his senses. Mr. Snap was peremptory and insolent; while Gammon seldom made his appearance—and would see no one at his private residence, pleading serious indisposition.
After anxious reflection, Mr. Gammon did not absolutely despair of extricating himself from the perils with which he was personally environed. As for certain fond hopes of political advancement, after which, indeed, his soul had so long pined, he did not even yet abandon the hope of being able to prevail on his friend at headquarters—to whom he had undoubtedly rendered considerable political services at no little personal risk—to overlook the accident which had befallen him, in the adverse verdict for the bribery penalties, even should he fail in his motion to defeat that verdict in the ensuing term. He had had indeed, a distinct intimation, that—that one obstacle removed—a very important and influential situation under government was within his reach. But, alas! this last overwhelming misfortune—how could he possibly evade or surmount it? What human ingenuity or intrepidity could avail to extricate him from the consequences of his insane avowal to Miss Aubrey—and his counter-statements to the Duke of Tantallan and Miss Macspleuchan—to say nothing of the Earl of Dreddlington? He resolved to risk it—to rely on his own resources, and the chapter of accidents. The mere presence of difficulty strung his nerves to encounter it. He resolved to rely on the impossibility of fixing him directly with a knowledge of the rottenness of Titmouse's pretensions—at all events, till a period considerably subsequent to the trial, and Titmouse's marriage with the Lady Cecilia. It occurred to him, as calculated, moreover, to aid his contemplated movements, if he could find a fair pretext for throwing overboard his partners, especially Mr. Quirk—satisfied that his own uniform caution had prevented him from committing himself to them—or at least had deprived them of means of proving it. He very soon met with an opportunity, of which he promptly availed himself.
Some week or ten days after the commencement of the term, Mr. Quirk was walking down Parliament Street, on his way to the Court of King's Bench, hoping, among other things, to hear the court say whether they would grant or refuse a rule nisi for a new trial, in a certain cause of Wigley v. Gammon, which had been moved for on the first day of term by Sir Charles Wolstenholme, and which Lord Widdrington had said the court would take a day or two's time to consider. Mr. Quirk's eye caught the figure of a person, a few steps in advance of him, whom he fancied he had seen before. In a few minutes' time, the old gentleman was covered with a cold perspiration; for in a young man, about thirty years old, decently dressed—thin, sallow, and wearing a very depressed air—Mr. Quirk recognized Mr. Steggars—a gentleman whom he had imagined to be at that moment comfortably settled, and for some ten years yet to come and unexpired, at Botany Bay! This was the individual, it may be recollected, whose execrable breach of trust, when a clerk of Mr. Parkinson's at Grilston, had led to Mr. Quirk's discovery of the infirmity in Mr. Aubrey's title. The fact was, that Mr. Steggars had quitted England, as the reader may recollect, horribly disgusted with Mr. Quirk's conduct towards him; and had also subsequently experienced some little remorse on account of his own mean and cruel conduct towards a distinguished gentleman and his family, none of whom had ever given him the slightest pretext for hostility or revenge. He had contrived to make his feelings upon the subject known to an official individual at Botany Bay, who had given him an opportunity of explaining matters fully to the authorities at home—the principal of whom, the Home Secretary—had been, and indeed continued to be, a warm personal friend of Mr. Aubrey's. This minister caused inquiries to be made concerning Steggars' behavior while abroad, which were so satisfactorily answered as to procure a remission of the remainder of his sentence, just as he was entering upon his fourth year's service at Botany Bay. Immediately on his return—which had taken place only a few days before the commencement of Michaelmas Term—he sought out Mr. Aubrey's attorneys, Messrs. Runnington, and put them fully in possession of all the facts of the case, relating to Mr. Quirk's grossly dishonorable conduct in obtaining and acting upon a knowledge of the supposed defect in Mr. Aubrey's title. Upon Mr. Quirk's coming alongside of this gentleman, and looking at him with a most anxious inquisitiveness, he encountered a fearfully significant glance—and then Mr. Steggars, in a very pointed and abrupt manner, crossed over the street for the purpose of avoiding him. Mr. Quirk was so dreadfully disconcerted by this occurrence, that instead of going on to court, where he would have heard Mr. Gammon's rule for a new trial refused, he retraced his steps homeward, and arrived at the office just as a clerk was inquiring for him; and who, on seeing him, put into his hands the following startling document, being a "Rule" which had been granted the day before, by the Court of King's Bench:—
"On reading the Affidavit of Jonathan Steggars, the affidavits of James Parkinson and Charles Runnington, and the paper-writing marked A, all thereunto annexed, It is ORDERED that Caleb Quirk, Gentleman, an attorney of this Honorable Court, do, on Wednesday next, in this present term, show cause why he should not forthwith deliver up to Charles Aubrey, Esquire, the deeds and documents specified in the paper-writing thereto annexed, marked A, and also, why he should not answer the matters contained in the said Affidavits.[20] Upon the motion of Sir Charles Wolstenholme.
"By the Court."
"Oh Lord!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, faintly, and, sinking into his chair, inquired for Mr. Gammon; but, as usual, he had not been at Saffron Hill that day. Giving orders to Mr. Amminadab to have copies taken immediately of the affidavits mentioned in the rule, Mr. Quirk set off for Mr. Gammon's chambers, but missed that gentleman, who he learned, had gone to Westminster. The next day Mr. Gammon called at the office, but Mr. Quirk was absent; on going, however, into the old gentleman's room, Mr. Gammon's eye lit on the above-mentioned "rule," and also on the affidavits upon which it had been granted. Having hurriedly glanced over them, he hastily replaced them on the desk, as he had found them, and repaired to his own room, greatly flustered—resolved to wait for Mr. Quirk's arrival, and appear to be informed by him, for the first time, of the existence of the aforesaid formidable documents. While he was really buried in a revery, with his head resting on one hand and a pen in the other, his countenance miserably pale and harassed, Mr. Quirk burst hastily into his room with the rule and affidavits in his hand.
"Oh Lord, Gammon! How are you, Gammon?" he stuttered. "Haven't seen you this age!—Where have you been? How are you, eh?" and he grasped very cordially the cold hand of Mr. Gammon, which did not return the pressure.
"I am not very well, Mr. Quirk; but—you seem agitated!—Has anything fresh hap"——
"Fresh?—Ecod, my dear Gammon! Fresh, indeed! Here's a new enemy come into the field!—D——d if I don't feel going mad!—Look, Gammon, look!"—and he placed the rule and affidavits in Mr. Gammon's hands, and sat down beside him.
"What!—Answer the matters in the affidavit?" quoth Gammon, amazedly.—"Why, what have you been doing, Mr. Quirk? And—who upon earth is—Jonathan Steggars?"
"Who's Steggars!" echoed Mr. Quirk, stupidly.
"Yes, Mr. Quirk—Steggars. Who is he?" repeated Gammon, intrepidly.
"Steggars, you know—Gammon! You recollect Steggars, of course—eh?" inquired Mr. Quirk, with an apprehensive stare—"Steggars; Steggars—you know! eh? You don't recollect! Oh, botheration! Come, come, Gammon!"
"Who is he?" again inquired Gammon, somewhat sternly.
"Oh Lud! oh Lud! oh Lud!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, despairingly—"What are you after, Gammon? You don't intend—it can't be—that you're going to—eh?—It's Steggars, you know—we defended him, you know—and he got transported for embezzling that mortgage money of Mr. Parkinson's. You recollect how we got hold of Mr. Aubrey's story from him?" While Mr. Quirk was saying all this with feverish impetuosity, Mr. Gammon appeared to be, for the first time, glancing eagerly over the affidavits.
"Why—good heavens, Mr. Quirk!" said he, presently, with a start—"is it possible that these statements can have the slightest foundation in fact?"
"Ay, drat it—that you know as well as I do, Gammon," replied Mr. Quirk, with not a little eagerness and trepidation—"Come, come, it's rather late in the day to sham Abraham just now, friend Gammon!"
"Do you venture, Mr. Quirk, to stand there, and deliberately charge me with being a party to the grossly dishonorable conduct of which you are here accused upon oath—which, indeed, you admit yourself to have been guilty of?"
"D——d if I don't, Master Gammon!" replied Mr. Quirk, slapping his hand on the table after a long pause, in which he looked completely confounded and aghast. "Why, you'll want, by-and-by, to persuade me that my name isn't Caleb Quirk—why, zounds! you'll drive me mad! You're gone mad yourself—you must be!"
"How dare you insult me, sir, by charging me with conniving at your infamous and most unprofessional conduct?"
"Why—come!" cried Quirk, with a horrible laugh—"You don't know how we first got scent of the whole thing?—Ah, ha! It dropped down from the clouds, I suppose, into our office—oh Lud, Lud, Gammon! it isn't kind to leave an old friend in the lurch at such a pinch as this!"
"I tell you, Mr. Quirk, that I never had the least idea in the world that this wretch Steggars—Faugh! I should have scouted the whole thing! I would rather have retired from the firm!"
"That's it, Gammon! Go on, Gammon! This is uncommonly funny! It is, indeed, aha!" quoth Quirk, trembling violently.
"This is no time for trifling, sir, believe me. Let me tell you thus much, in all candor—that I certainly had, from the first, misgivings as to the means by which you became possessed of this information; but considering our relative situations, I did not feel myself at liberty to press you on the point—Oh, Mr. Quirk, I am really shocked beyond all bounds! What will the profession say of"—
"D—— the profession! What d'ye suppose I must be just now thinking of you? Why, you'd make a dog strike its father!"
"I may have been unfortunate, Mr. Quirk—I may have been imprudent; but I have never been dishonorable—and I would not for the whole creation have my name associated with this infernal transac"——
"Come, come—who wanted me to forge a tombstone, Gammon?" inquired Mr. Quirk, glancing very keenly at his friend.
"Wanted you to forge a tombstone, sir!" echoed Gammon, with an astounded air.
"Ay! ay! Forge a tombstone!" repeated Mr. Quirk, dropping his voice, and slapping one hand upon the other.
"Upon my word and honor, Mr. Quirk, I pity you! You've lost your senses!"
"You wanted me to forge a tombstone! D——d if you didn't!"
"You had better go home, Mr. Quirk, and take some physic to clear your head, for I am sure you're going wrong altogether!" said Gammon.
"Oh, Gammon, Gammon! Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Come—honor among thieves! Be honest for once"——
"Your conduct is so extraordinary, Mr. Quirk, that I must request you to leave my room, sir"——
"I sha'n't—it's mine too"—quoth Quirk, snapping his fingers with a desperate air.
"Then I will, sir," replied Gammon, with a low bow; and, taking up his hat, moved towards the door.
"You sha'n't, Gammon—you mustn't!" cried Quirk, but in vain—Mr. Gammon had taken his final departure, leaving Mr. Quirk on the very verge of madness. By-and-by he went into Snap's room, who sat there the picture of misery and terror; for whereas it had always seemed to him that he had never been fairly admitted into the confidence of his senior partners in the very important matters which had been going on for the last two years—now that all things were going wrong, he was candidly given credit by Mr. Quirk and Mr. Gammon for having lent a helping hand to everything from the very beginning! In fact, he was frightened out of his wits at the terrible turn which matters were taking. 'T was he who had to stand the brunt of the horrid badgering of the three frenzied Jews; he was included in half-a-dozen indictments for fraud and conspiracy, at the instance of the aforesaid Israelites, and of the assignees of Mr. Tag-rag; and Heaven only could form a notion of what other good things were in store for him! He wondered vastly that they had not contrived to stick his name into the affidavits which had that day come in, and which seemed to have turned Mr. Quirk's head upside down! Conscious, however, of his own innocence, he resolved to hold on to the last, with a view, in the event of the partnership blowing up, of scraping together a nice little practice out of the remnants.
Half recklessly, and half in furtherance of some designs which he was forming, Gammon followed up, on the ensuing morning, his move with Mr. Quirk, by sending to him and to Mr. Snap a formal written notice of his intention to retire from the partnership, in conformity with the provisions of their articles, at the end of a calendar month from the date; and he resolved to take no part at all in the matter to which Mr. Quirk's attention had been so sternly challenged by the Court of King's Bench—leaving Mr. Quirk to struggle through it as best he might.
But what was Mr. Gammon to do?
He could not stir a step in any direction for want of money—getting every hour more and more involved and harassed on this score. The ecclesiastical suit he had given up, and Mr. Quod had instantly sent in his heavy bill, requiring immediate payment—reminding Mr. Gammon that he had pledged himself to see him paid, whatever might be the issue. Here, again, was an action of ejectment, on a tremendous scale, actually commenced, and being vigorously carried on—with evidently unlimited funds at command—for the recovery of every acre of the Yatton property. Was it to be resisted? Where were the funds? Here he was, again, already a defendant in four indictments, charging fraud and conspiracy—proceedings entailing a most destructive expense; and his motion for a new trial, in the action for the bribery penalty having failed, he was now liable to pay, almost instantly, a sum exceeding £3,000 to the plaintiff, for debt and costs. As for the balance of their bill against Mr. Aubrey, that was melting away hourly in the taxing-office; and the probable result would be an action against them, at the suit of Mr. Aubrey, for maliciously holding him to bail. Was it possible, thought Gammon, to make the two promissory notes of Mr. Aubrey available, by discontinuing the actions commenced upon them, and indorsing them over at a heavy discount? He took an opinion upon the point—which was to the effect, that such a step could not then be taken, so as to give any third party a better right against Mr. Aubrey than Mr. Titmouse had. Even had this, however, been otherwise, an unexpected obstacle arose in Mr. Spitfire, who now held Mr. Gammon at arm's length, and insisted on going forward with the actions; but he, in his turn, was, as it were, checkmated by a move of Mr. Runnington's in the Court of Chancery; where he obtained an injunction against proceeding with the actions on the notes, till the result of the pending action of ejectment should have been ascertained; and, in the event of the lessor of the plaintiff recovering, an account taken of the mesne profits which had been received by Mr. Titmouse. No one, of course, would now advance a farthing on mortgage of Mr. Titmouse's interest in the Yatton property; and Mr. Gammon's dearly earned rent-charge of £2,000 a-year had become mere waste parchment, and as such he destroyed it. The advertisements concerning Lord De la Zouch's bond had effectually restrained Mr. Gammon from raising anything upon it; since any one advancing money upon the security of its assignment, must have put it in suit against his Lordship, when due, in the name of Mr. Titmouse, and any answer to an action by him, would of course operate against the party using his name. Mr. Gammon then bethought himself of felling the timber at Yatton; but, as if that step on his part had been anticipated, before they had got down more than a couple of trees at the extremity of the estate, down came an injunction from the Lord Chancellor, and so there was an end of all resources from that quarter. Should he try the experiment of offering to surrender Yatton without the delay and expense of defending the ejectment? He knew he should be laughed at; they must quickly see that he had no funds to fight with, even had he the slightest case to support. Mr. Gammon saw that Mr. Aubrey's position was already impregnable, and the notion of a compromise utterly ridiculous. As for resources of his own, he had none, for he had been exceedingly unfortunate in his dealings in the British and foreign funds, and had suffered severely and unexpectedly through his connection with one or two of the bubble companies of the day. In fact, he was liable to be called upon at any moment for no less a sum than £3,000, and interest, which had been advanced to him on security of a joint and several bond given by himself and Mr. Titmouse; and he lived in daily dread lest the increasing frequency of the rumors to his discredit, should get to the ears of this particular creditor, and precipitate his demand of repayment. To the vexation occasioned by this direct pecuniary embarrassment, and by the impossibility of retrieving himself by a move in any direction—being, in short, in a complete dead-lock—were to be added other sources of exquisite anxiety and mortification. To say nothing of the perilous legal and criminal liabilities which he had incurred, the consciousness of his appearing an atrocious liar, and indeed an impostor, in the eyes of the Duke of Tantallan, of the Earl of Dreddlington, of Miss Macspleuchan, of the Aubreys, of Miss Aubrey—in fact, of every one who saw or heard of what he had done—stung him almost to madness; considerations of this kind were infinitely more insupportable than all the others by which he was oppressed, put together. And when he reflected that the Lord Chancellor, to whose favorable notice he had ever fondly aspired—and to a considerable extent, successfully—had been put in possession of all the heavy charges made against him, on the score of fraud and conspiracy, by means of the various motions made before his Lordship, and the affidavits by which they were supported, he felt his soul withered within him. In short, it must surely appear, by this time, that the devil had, in his dismal sport, got his friend Mr. Gammon up into a corner.
In like manner Mr. Titmouse had his lesser troubles—for he was all of a sudden reduced very nearly to the verge of literal starvation. His creditors of every kind and degree seemed actuated by the spirit of the law of the Twelve Tables—which, when a debtor was insolvent, permitted his creditors to cut him, bodily, physically, into pieces, in proportion to the respective magnitudes of their claims against him. Actions were commenced against him by the three Jews, on his covenants to repay the principal and interest due on the mortgages; half-a-dozen more were pending against him on bills of exchange and promissory notes, which he had given for various sums of money which had been lent him, though he had no means of proving the fact, on terms of the most monstrous usury. Scarcely was there a single tradesman in town or country with whom he had ever dealt, who had not sued, or was not about to sue him. Every article of furniture both at Yatton and at his lodgings—great or small, cabs, harness, horses—all had disappeared: and, but for the protection afforded to his person by privilege of Parliament, he would have been pounced upon by at least a hundred ravenous and infuriate creditors in an instant, and never been seen or heard of any more, except on the occasion of some feeble and vain cry for relief under the Insolvent Debtors' Act. He had been obliged, on coming up from Yatton, to borrow five pounds from poor Dr. Tatham!—who, though infinitely surprised at the application, and greatly inconvenienced by compliance with it, lent him cheerfully the sum he asked for; Titmouse, the little scamp, pledging himself to enclose the doctor a five-pound note by the first post after his reaching town. That, however, even had he ever intended giving the matter a thought, he could no more have done than he could have sent Dr. Tatham the mitre of the Archbishop of Canterbury; in consequence of which the worthy little doctor was obliged to postpone his long-meditated purchase of a black coat and breeches indefinitely. The morning after Titmouse's return, he betook himself to Saffron Hill, which he reached just as Mr. Quirk and Mr. Snap, deserted by Mr. Gammon, were endeavoring, in great tribulation and terror, to concoct affidavits in answer to those on which the rule in the Court of King's Bench had been obtained. Mr. Amminadab, with a little hesitation, yielded to his importunities, and allowed him to go into Mr. Quirk's room.
"Oh, Lud! Oh, Lud—you—you—you—infernal little villain!" cried out Mr. Quirk, hastily approaching him, pale and stuttering with fury—and, taking him by the collar, turned him out by main force.
"I say!—I say!—Come, sir! I'm a member of"——
"I'll member you, you impostor! Get out with you!—get out!"
"So help me——! I'll go to some other attor"——gasped Titmouse, ineffectually struggling against Mr. Quirk.
"Eugh!—Beast!" exclaimed Snap, who kept by the side of Mr. Quirk, ready to give any assistance which might be requisite.
"What have I——eh?—What have I done—demme!—Come, come—hollo! hands off"——
"If ever—if ever—if ever you dare show your cursed little face here—again"—sputtered Mr. Quirk, trembling with rage.
"This is a breach of privilege!—On my life I'll—I really will—I'll complain to the House to-night." By this time he had been forced through the outer passage into the street, and the door closed furiously behind him. A little crowd was instantly collected around him, and he might possibly have thought of addressing it in terms of indignant eloquence, but he was deterred by the approach of a policeman, with a very threatening countenance, and slunk down Saffron Hill in a truly shocking state of mind. Then he hurried to Thavies' Inn, pale as death—and with a tremulous voice inquired for Mr. Gammon; but that gentleman had given special orders to be invariably denied to him. Again and again he called—and was again and again repulsed; and though he lingered on one or two occasions for an hour at least, in order to waylay Mr. Gammon, it was in vain. Letter after letter he sent, but with no better effect; and at length the laundress refused to take them in.
Gammon dared not see Titmouse; not because he feared Titmouse, but himself.
The House of Commons was sitting, unusual as was such an occurrence at that time of the year; but Parliament had been called together on a special urgency, and a very fierce and desperate contest was carrying on between the Opposition and the Ministers, whose very existence was at stake, and almost nightly divisions were melting down their majority, till they were within an ace of being in a positive minority. Under these circumstances, although Mr. Titmouse's position had become a matter of notoriety, and he could no longer exhibit in public even the outside show and trappings of a man of fashion, beyond his mere personal finery, (which had become very precious, because he saw no means of replacing it,) and though he was cut, as a matter of course, by every one out of doors, yet he found he had one friend, at least, in his extremity, who scorned to imitate the fickle and perfidious conduct of all around him. That frank and manly individual was no less a person, to his honor be it spoken, than the Secretary of the Treasury—and whipper-in—Mr. Flummery; who always spoke to him in the most cordial and confiding manner, and once or twice even asked him to join his dinner-table at Bellamy's. On one of these occasions, Mr. Titmouse resolved to put Mr. Flummery's friendship to the test, and boldly asked for a "place." His distinguished friend appeared certainly startled for a moment, and then evidently felt inwardly tickled, as was evinced by a faint twitching at the corners of his mouth. He proceeded, however, in a very confidential manner, to ask Mr. Titmouse as to his familiarity with financial matters; for (in the most sacred confidence) it did so happen that, although no one knew it but himself and one other person, there was sure to be a vacancy in a certain office within a fortnight at farthest; and without saying anything further, Mr. Flummery laid his finger on his lip, and looked steadfastly at Titmouse, who did similarly; and within half an hour's time made one of a glorious majority of four, obtained by the triumphant Ministry. Titmouse was now in excellent spirits concerning his future prospects, and felt that, if he could but contrive to hold on during the fortnight intervening between him and his accession to office, all would be well. He therefore conceived he had nothing to do but apply to some one or two friends, whom he had accommodated with loans, for repayment. But, alas! Mr. O'Doodle acknowledged that his exchequer was empty just then; and Mr. M'Squash said he really fancied he had repaid Mr. Titmouse the hundred pounds which he had lent him, but would look and see. Then Mr. Titmouse ventured to apply to Mr. O'Gibbet—that gentleman being Titmouse's debtor to the tune of some five hundred pounds. He called Mr. Titmouse aside, and in the most delicate and feeling manner intimated the delight it would have afforded him to respond to the call of Mr. Titmouse under ordinary circumstances; but the fact was, he felt placed in a most painfully embarrassing position, on account of the grave doubts which had occurred to him, as to the right of Mr. Titmouse either to have lent the money at all, or, consequently, to receive repayment of it. In short, the lawyers would call this setting up the jus tertii; Mr. O'Gibbet protesting that he looked upon himself, in point of conscience, as a trustee of the money for the real owner; and, till he should have been discovered, bound to retain it—so pleasant is sometimes the performance of one's duty! Titmouse could not in the least appreciate these exquisite scruples; but knowing Mr. O'Gibbet's influence over Mr. Flummery, he feigned to acquiesce in the propriety of what was advanced by Mr. O'Gibbet, who, on being pressed, lent him five pounds.
Finding that those whom he had till then imagined bound to consider his interests, had, in so unprincipled and ungrateful a manner, deserted him, he resolved to be true to himself, and bent all the powers of his mind to the contemplation of his present circumstances, and how he should act with advantage. After due and deep reflection, a very felicitous stroke occurred to him. He did not know the exact state of the question with reference to the right to the possession of Yatton—little dreaming that, in point of fact, Mr. Aubrey was at that moment virtually reinstated in the enjoyment of that fine estate. Now, it occurred to Mr. Titmouse as very probable, that his opponent would catch at any fair offer of a compromise, since he—Titmouse—had unquestionably the advantage over him at present, having nine-tenths of the law on his side—viz. possession; and if he were to propose to split their differences by making an offer of his hand and heart to Miss Aubrey, it could do no harm, and might be attended with the happiest results. How was she to know the desperate shifts to which he was driven at present? And if he could but contrive, consistently with his pledge to Mr. Flummery, to give her an inkling of the brilliant prospects that awaited him! In short, I am able to give the reader an exact copy of a letter which, after infinite pains, two days being spent over it, he sent to Miss Aubrey; and which was duly forwarded to her, and deposited in her hands, as she alighted from her horse, on returning from a ride with Mr. Delamere and Lord De la Zouch. Here follows that skilful and touching performance:—
"House of Comons,
"Wednesday Nov. —, 18—.
"(Private.)
"Madam,—hoping That this Will not Disapoint you Through Strangeness (which I own Looks Somewhat So) at First sight of my adressing This Epistle to You, to Say Ever since I Have had The unhapiness to be a Widdower Since the Death of Lady Cecilia Titmouse of which There Is Many False accounts Every Thing Goes Entirely Wrong (For the present) with me, all For Want of a Lady Which wd. feel That Conubial Interest in me That is So delightful In the Married State. I was Honored With writing To You soon After I was so Happy as to Get the Property But Supose you could not Have Got It Seeing I got No Ansr. And Natrally suposed There Was obstacles In The Way For it Was Settled Soon as You might have Heard That I was to Mary my Cousin (The Lady Cecilia) whom I Loved Truly till Death cut Her Short On her Way To an Erly Grave, Alas. I know It is In Dispute whr. yr. respectable Brother or I are Owners of Yatton You See The Law which Gave It me Once may Give it Me Again and No Mistake—who knows (in this uncertain Life) whatever Turns Up I can (Betwixt Ourselves) assure You There Is Something In The Wind For me wh. dare not Say More Of at this Present.
But Suposing You & I shall Hit it what Say You if I should Propose dividing The Estate betwixt Him & Me & Settling All my Half on You And as To the Title (wh. at present I Am Next to) what say You To your Brother and I Tossing up for it When It comes for I am Sorry to hear His Lordship is breaking, and I know Who I shd. Like To see Lady Drelincourt, oh what a hapiness Only To think Of, As They are dividing very soon (And they Do Run It Uncommon Fine, But Ministers Must Be Suported or The Country Will Go to the Devil Dogs) Must Close Begging an Answer directed to Me Here, And Subscribe myself,
"Hnd. and dear Madam,
"Yrs. Most Obediently,
"T. Titmouse.
"Miss Aubrey,
"Vivian Street."
"I hope, Kate, you have not been giving this gentleman encouragement!" quoth Delamere, when he had read the above. It formed a topic of pleasant merriment when they all met at dinner—a right cheerful party, consisting solely of the Aubreys and Lord and Lady De la Zouch, and Delamere. Mr. Aubrey had returned from town with important intelligence.
"Mr. Runnington is steadily and patiently unravelling," said he, as they sat in unrestrained converse after dinner—(I must take the opportunity of saying that Miss Aubrey looked as beautiful as ever, and in brilliant spirits)—"one of the most monstrous tissues of fraud that ever was woven by man! We sometimes imagine that Mr. Gammon must have had in view the securing Yatton for himself! The firm of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, are completely overwhelmed with the consequences of their abominable conduct!—I understand they have terribly taken in the Jews—to the amount of at least seventy or eighty thousand pounds of hard cash; and one of them, it seems, on discovering that he has no real and effectual security, very nearly succeeded in hanging himself the other day."
"What's this I see in the paper about a Mr. Tag-rag?" inquired Lord De la Zouch:—and Mr. Aubrey told him the miserable condition to which Tag-rag had been reduced by the alleged chicanery of the firm of Quirk, Gammon, and Snap.
"Mr. Runnington seems to be managing matters with great vigor and skill," said his Lordship.
"Admirably! admirably! I never in my life saw or heard of such complete success as attends every step he takes against the enemy; he is hourly pressing them nearer and nearer to the verge of the precipice, and cutting off all retreat. They would fight, but they have no funds! Look at the administration suit!" Mr. Aubrey then proceeded to mention two very important circumstances which had come to his knowledge since his former visit to town. First, an offer was understood to have come direct from Mr. Gammon, to abandon the defence to the ejectment, on condition of his receiving, on behalf of Mr. Titmouse, the sum of two thousand pounds; but Mr. Runnington had peremptorily refused to listen to any proposal of the kind, and the action was, at that moment, in full progress, with every prospect of there being no real defence even attempted. The next piece of intelligence was, that Messrs. Screw and Son, the solicitors to the Vulture Insurance Company, had called on Messrs. Runnington, on learning that they were the solicitors of the party to whom letters of administration had been granted, and intimated that the directors—those discreet and candid gentlemen—"taking all the circumstances of the case into their consideration," had determined to offer no further opposition to the payment of the policy on the life of the late Lady Stratton. Mr. Screw talked very finely about the high principle and good feeling which ever actuated that distinguished Company; but he did not tell Mr. Runnington what was the real cause of their abandoning their opposition, which was this—that before their "commission" to examine their sole witness, Dr. Podagra, could have reached China, they had accidentally received authentic intelligence of his death; he having been killed by a crowd for vaccinating the infant of one of the Chinese! Under these circumstances, Mr. Runnington agreed to the terms proposed on the part of the Company; viz. that the action be discontinued forthwith, each party pay their own costs, and the whole amount of the policy, minus the £2,000 which had been advanced to Lady Stratton, be paid to Mr. Aubrey within a month from the day of discontinuing the action. Though Kate very vehemently protested against it, she was at length persuaded to allow her brother to act according to the manifest intentions of the venerable deceased; and he in his turn received a very gratifying assurance that she would have given him, under the special circumstances of the case, no anxiety respecting his bond for £2,000 given to Lady Stratton! Thus was Kate no longer a dowerless maiden; having at her absolute disposal a sum of thirteen thousand pounds, in addition to which, in the event of their being restored to the possession of Yatton, she would be in the receipt of the income left her as a charge upon the estate by her father; viz. five hundred a-year.
While the cheering sunshine of returning prosperity was thus beaming with daily increasing warmth and brightness upon the Aubreys,
"And all the clouds that lower'd upon their house,"
were,
"In the deep bosom of the ocean buried"—
the sun of that proud and weak old man, the Earl of Dreddlington, was indeed going down in darkness. The proceedings which have been laid at length before the reader, arising out of the extraordinary termination of the inquiry set on foot by the ecclesiastical court, and quickly ending in the adoption of measures for the immediate recovery of Yatton, had attracted far too much of public attention to admit of their being concealed from the earl, comparatively secluded from the world though he was. But the frightful confirmation of his assertion concerning what had occurred between himself and Mr. Gammon, respecting Titmouse, appeared to make no commensurate impression upon a mind no longer capable of appreciating it. He had been seized by a partial paralysis shortly after the last interview between himself, Mr. Gammon, and the Duke of Tantallan; and it was evident that his reason was failing rapidly. And it was perhaps a merciful dispensation, for it appeared that the cup of his misery and mortification was not even yet full. That other monstrous fabric of absurdity and fraud, built upon public credulity—the Gunpowder and Fresh Water Company—suddenly dropped to pieces, principally on account of its chief architect, Mr. Gammon, being unable to continue that attention and skill by which it had been kept so long in existence. It suddenly exploded, involving everybody concerned in it in ruin. The infatuated, and now dismayed, shareholders, and the numerous and designing creditors, came crowding round the more prominent of the parties concerned, clamorous and desperate. Meetings were called from time to time—producing, however, no other results, than fearfully extending the prospect of liability incurred. The shareholders had fondly imagined that they could repose with confidence on the provision inserted in the prospectus, and in the deed of settlement—viz. that no one was to be liable beyond the amount of their shares actually subscribed for: alas! how dreadful the delusion, and how quickly dissipated! The houses of Lord Dreddlington, the Duke of Tantallan, and others, were besieged by importunate creditors; and at length a general meeting was called, at which resolutions were passed, strongly reflecting upon the Earl of Dreddlington and Mr. Gammon; and directing the solicitor concerned for the rest of the shareholders to file a bill against the earl and Mr. Gammon, for the purpose of compelling them to pay all the debts incurred by the Company! More than this, it was threatened that unless satisfactory proposals were promptly received from, or made on behalf of, the Earl of Dreddlington, he would be proceeded against as a TRADER liable to the bankrupt-laws, and a docket forthwith struck against him! Of this crowning indignity impending over his head, the poor old peer was fortunately not conscious, being at the moment resident at Poppleton Hall, in a state not far removed from complete imbecility. The Duke of Tantallan was similarly threatened; and alarmed and enraged almost to a pitch of madness, resolved to take measures for completely exposing and punishing the individual, to whose fraudulent plausibility and sophistries he justly attributed the calamity which had befallen him and the Earl of Dreddlington.
"Out of this nettle danger, I'll yet pluck the flower safety"—said Mr. Gammon to himself, as he sat inside one of the coaches going to Brighton, towards the close of the month of November, being on the morning after the explosion of the Gunpowder and Fresh Water Company. Inextricably involved as he appeared, yet, conscious of his almost boundless internal resources, he did not despair of retrieving himself, and defeating the vindictive measures taken against him. His chambers were besieged by applicants for admission—Titmouse among them; whose senseless pertinacity, overheard by Gammon as he sat within, while his laundress was being daily worried by Titmouse, several times excited Gammon almost up to the point of darting out and splitting open the head of the intruder; old Mr. Quirk also sent daily letters, in a piteous strain, and called besides daily, begging to be reconciled to Gammon; but he sternly turned a deaf ear to all such applications. In order to escape this intolerable persecution, at all events for a while, and in change of scene and air, unpropitious though the weather was, seek to recruit his health and spirits, he had determined upon spending a week at Brighton; telling no one, however, except his old and faithful laundress, his destination; and instructing her to say that he was gone, she believed, into Suffolk, but would certainly return to town within a week. His pale and harassed features showed how much he required repose and relief, but for these he sought in vain. He felt not a whit the better after a two days' stay, though the weather had suddenly cleared up, the sky become clear and bright, and the air brisk and bracing. Whithersoever he went, he carried about him a thick gloom which no sunshine could penetrate, no breezes dissipate. He could find rest nowhere, neither at home nor abroad, neither alone nor in company, neither sleeping nor waking. His brow was clouded by a stern melancholy, his heart was bursting with a sense of defeat, shame, exposure, mortification; and with all his firmness of nerve, he could not contemplate the future but with a shudder of apprehension. In fact, he was in a state of intense nervous irritability and excitement from morning to night. On the evening of the third day after his arrival, the London paper, forwarded to him as usual from the neighboring library, contained a paragraph which excited him not a little; it being to the effect, that a named solicitor of eminence had been the day before appointed by the Lord Chancellor to that very office—the one, in truth, which Gammon knew his Lordship had all along destined for him; one which he could have filled to admiration, which would have given him permanent status in society; the salary attached to it being, moreover, £1,800 a-year! Gammon laid down the paper—a mist came before his eyes—and a sense of desolation pervaded his soul. After a while his eye lit on another part of the paper—gracious heavens!—there were three or four lines which instantly roused him almost into madness. It was an advertisement, stating that he had "ABSCONDED," and offering a reward of £200 to any one who would give information by which he might be "discovered and apprehended!"
"Absconded!" he exclaimed aloud, starting up, and his eye flaming with fury—"accursed miscreants! I'll quickly undeceive them!"—Instantly unlocking his paper-case, he sat down and wrote off a letter to the editor of the newspaper, giving his full name and address; most indignantly denying his having attempted or dreamed of absconding; stating that he should be in London within forty-eight hours; and requiring an ample apology for the gross insult and libel which had been perpetrated, to be inserted in the next number of his paper. Then he wrote off to the solicitor, Mr. Winnington, who had conducted all the town proceedings in the cause of Wigley v. Gammon, alluding in terms of indignation and astonishment to the offensive advertisement, and assuring him that he should, within forty-eight hours, be found, as usual, at his chambers, and prepared to make an immediate and satisfactory arrangement in respect of the damages and costs which were now due from him. In a similar strain he wrote to Mr. Runnington (who had maintained throughout, personally, a cautious courtesy towards Mr. Gammon)—begging him to postpone signing judgment in the action of Doe on the demise of Aubrey v. Roe, till the last day of term, as he had a new and final proposal to make, which might have the effect of saving great delay and expense. He added, that he had also a proposition to offer upon the subject of Lord De la Zouch's bond and Mr. Aubrey's promissory notes, and begged the favor of a line in answer, addressed to him at his chambers in Thavies' Inn, and which he might find on his arrival. To a similar effect, he also wrote to the solicitor who was working the docket which had been struck against Mr. Tag-rag; and also to the solicitor who was employed on behalf of the shareholders in the Gunpowder and Fresh Water Company:—in all of them reprobating, in terms of the keenest indignation, the unwarrantable and libellous use of his name which had been made, and making appointments for the individuals addressed to call at his chambers on the day after his arrival in town. Having thus done all in his power to counteract the injurious effects which were calculated to arise from so very premature and cruel a measure as that which had been taken, in offering a reward for his apprehension as an absconded felon, he folded up, sealed, and directed the letters, and took them himself to the post-office, in time for that night's post; and that he was really terribly excited, may be easily believed. He did not touch the dinner which he found laid for him on his return, but sat on the sofa, absorbed in thought, for nearly an hour: when he suddenly rang the bell, ordered his clothes to be instantly got ready for travelling, and his bill made out. He then went and secured a place in that night's mail, which was starting for town at half-past eight o'clock. At that hour he quitted Brighton, being the only inside passenger—a circumstance which gave him an ample opportunity for reflection, and of which doubtless he availed himself—at all events, certain it is, that he closed not his eyes in sleep during the whole of the journey. Greatly to the surprise of his laundress, he made his appearance at his chambers between six and seven o'clock in the morning, rousing her from bed. He had thus, it will be observed, reached town contemporaneously with his own letters; and as all the appointments which he had made, were for the day after that of his arrival, he had secured a twenty-four hours' freedom from interruption of any sort, and resolved to avail himself of it, by keeping within doors the whole of the time, his laundress denying him, as usual, to any one who might call. He asked her if she had seen or heard of the atrocious advertisement which had appeared in yesterday's paper? She replied, in tears, that she had; and added, that no doubt to that circumstance were to be attributed the calls made yesterday from morning to night—an announcement which seemed to heighten the excitement under which Mr. Gammon was evidently laboring. As soon as his lamp had been lit, he opened his paper-case, and wrote the following letter:—
"Thavies' Inn, Wednesday Morning.
"Dear Hartley,—As I have not missed an annual meeting of our little club for these ten years, I shall be found at my place, to-night, at nine to a moment: that is, by the way, if I shall be admitted, after the execrable advertisement concerning me which appeared in yesterday's papers, and the writer of which I will give cause, if I can discover him, to repent to the latest day he lives. I came up this morning suddenly, to refute, by my presence and by my acts, the villanous falsehoods about my absconding. Entre nous, I am somewhat puzzled, just now, certainly—but never fear! I shall find a way out of the wood yet. Expect me at nine, to a minute,—Yours as ever,
"O. Gammon.
"Harry Hartley, Esq.
"Kensington Square."
This he sealed and directed; and requesting his laundress to put it into the office in time for the first post, without fail—he got into bed, and slept for a couple of hours: when he awoke somewhat refreshed, made his toilet as usual, and partook of a slight breakfast.
"You did not suppose I had absconded, Mrs. Brown, eh?" he inquired with a melancholy smile, as she removed his breakfast things.
"No, sir; indeed I did not believe a word of it—you've always been a kind and just master to me, sir—and"—she raised her apron to her eyes, and sobbed.
"And I hope long to continue so, Mrs. Brown. By the way, were not your wages due a day or two ago?"
"Oh yes! sir—but it does not signify, sir, the least; though on second thoughts—it does, sir; for my little niece is to be taken into the country—she's dying, I fear—and her mother's been out of work for"——
"Here's a ten-pound note, Mrs. Brown," replied Mr. Gammon, taking one from his pocket-book—"pay yourself your wages; write me a receipt as usual, and keep the rest on account of the next quarter, if it will assist you just now when you are in trouble." She took the bank-note with many expressions of thankfulness; and but for her tears, which flowed plentifully, she might have noticed that there was something deadly in the eye of her kind and tranquil master. On her retiring, he rose, and walked to and fro for a long time, with folded arms, wrapped in profound meditation—from which he was occasionally unpleasantly startled by hearing knocks at his door, and then his laundress assuring the visitor that Mr. Gammon was out of town, but would return on the morrow. It was a cheerless November day, the snow fluttering lazily through the foggy air; but his room was made snug and cheerful enough, by the large fire which he kept up. Opening his desk, he sat down, about noon, and wrote a very long letter—in the course of which, however, he repeatedly laid down his pen—got up and walked about, heaving deep sighs, and being occasionally exceedingly agitated. At length he concluded it, paused some time, and then folded it up, and sealed it. Then he spent at least two hours in examining all the papers in his desk and cabinet. A considerable number of them he burned, and replaced and arranged the remainder carefully. Then again he walked up and down the room. The cat, a very fine and favorite one, which had been several years an inmate of the chambers, attracted his attention, by rubbing against his legs. "Poor puss!" he exclaimed, stroking her fondly on the back; and, after a while, the glossy creature sidled away, as it were reluctantly, from his caressing hand, and lay comfortably coiled up on the hearth-rug, as before. Again he walked to and fro, absorbed in melancholy reflection for some time; from which he was roused, about five, by Mrs. Brown bringing in the spare dinner—which, having barely tasted, he soon dismissed, telling her that he felt a strange shooting pain in his head, and that his eyes seemed sometimes covered by a mist: but that he doubted not his being well enough to keep his appointment at the club—as she knew had been his habit for years. He requested her to have his dressing-room prepared by a quarter to eight, and a coach fetched by eight o'clock precisely. As soon as she had withdrawn, he sat down and wrote the following letter to the oldest and most devoted personal friend he had in the world:
"My dear——. I entreat you, by our long unbroken friendship, to keep the enclosed letter by you, for a fortnight; and then, with your own hand, and alone, deliver it to the individual to whom it is addressed. Burn this note—I mean the one which I am at this instant writing to you—the instant you shall have read it; and take care that no eye sees the enclosed but hers—or all my efforts to secure a little provision for her will be frustrated. In the corner of the top drawer of my cabinet will be found, folded up, a document referred to in the enclosed letter—in fact, my will—and which I wish you, as an old friend, to take the very earliest opportunity of discovering, accidentally. You will find the date all correct, and safe. But whether my fiendish persecutors will allow it to have any effect, situated as are my affairs, is more than doubtful.
Still I will throw away no chance in favor of the being who has occupied so much of my last thoughts. Call here to-morrow—at any hour you please—and say that you have called to see me, according to my appointment, and produce and show the enclosed ordinary invitation, to any one who may inquire, as being the only communication which you have received from me since my return from Brighton. Bear all this in mind, by the value you set upon my friendship: whatever you may then see or hear, be firm and prudent.—O. G."
"Wednesday."
In this letter he enclosed the long letter and the note already mentioned; and having sealed and directed the whole, with elaborate distinctness, he threw his cloak round him, and went with his packet to the post-office, and with his own hand, after an instant's hesitation, dropped it into the box, and returned to his chambers.
Then he took another sheet of paper, and wrote thus:
"Dear Viper,—I doubt whether, after all, there will be a Dissolution; but, at any rate, I will perform my promise, and be ready with what you wish for Sunday week.—Yours ever,
"O. G.
"P. S.—I shall call upon you on Saturday, without fail."
This he folded up and directed, and proceeded to commence the following:—
"Thavies' Inn, Wednesday.
"Dear Sir,—I have finally determined to make every sacrifice in order to extricate myself, with honor, from my present embarrassments. You will, therefore, as soon as you get this, please to sell out all my"——
Here he laid down his pen; and Mrs. Brown presently announcing that everything was ready in his dressing-room, he thanked her, and proceeded to shave and dress. He was not more than a quarter of an hour over his toilet. He had put on his usual evening dress—his blue body-coat, black trousers, a plain shirt and black stock, and a white waistcoat—scarcely whiter, however, than the face of him who wore it.
"I am going for the coach now, sir," said Mrs. Brown, knocking at the door.
"If you please," he replied briskly and cheerfully—and the instant that he had heard her close the outer door after her, he opened the secret spring drawer in his desk, and took out a very small glass phial, with a glass stopper, over which was tied some bladder to preserve its contents from the air; then he carefully closed the drawer. His face was ghastly pale; his knees trembled; his hands were cold and damp as those of the dead. He took a strong peppermint lozenge from the mantelpiece, and chewed it, while he removed the stopper from the bottle, which contained about half a dram of the most subtle and potent poison which has been discovered by man—one extinguishing life almost instantaneously, and leaving no trace of its presence except a slight odor, which he had taken the precaution of masking and overpowering with that of the peppermint. He returned to get his hat, which was in his dressing-room; he put it on—and in glancing at the glass, scarcely recognized the ghastly image which it reflected. His chief object was, to complete the deception he intended practising on the Insurance Company, with whom he had effected a policy on his life for £2,000—and also to delude everybody into the notion of his having died suddenly, but naturally. Having stirred up the large red fire, and made a kind of hollow in it, he took out the stopper, and dropped it, with the bladder, which had been tied over it, into the fire. Then he took his pen in his right hand with a fresh dip of ink in it; kneeled down on the fender, close to the fire; faintly whispered "Oh, Emma!" poured the whole of the deadly poison into his mouth, and succeeded in dropping the phial into the very heart of the fire—falling down the next instant on the hearth-rug, oblivious, insensible—dead. However it might have been, that the moment after he had done this direful deed, he would have GIVEN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE, had it been his, to have undone what he had done—he had succeeded, for the present, in effecting his object.
Poor Mrs. Brown's terror, on discovering her master stretched senseless on the floor—his hat pushed partly down over his eyes in the act of falling—may be imagined. Medical assistance was called in, but only to announce that "the vital spark had fled." It was clearly either apoplexy, said the intelligent medical man, or an organic disease of the heart. Of this opinion were the astute coroner and his jury, without hesitation. The deceased had evidently been seized while in the very act of writing to some broker. [Gammon had no more "stock" of any sort, for all he had written that letter, than the cat which had unconsciously witnessed, and been for a moment disturbed by, his death.] Mr. Hartley came, and producing the note which he had received, spoke of the disappointment which they had all felt on account of Mr. Gammon's non-arrival. The other letters—the appointments which he had made for the morrow—the evidence which he had taken care to enable his laundress to give—all these things were decisive—it was really "scarcely a case requiring an inquest;" but as they had been called, they returned a verdict of "Died by the Visitation of God." He was buried, a few days afterwards, in the adjoining churchyard, (St. Andrew's,) where he lies mouldering away quietly enough, certainly; but whether (in the language of the solemn and sublime burial-service which his successful fraud had procured to be read over his remains) "in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ," is another, and a fearful question.
His "friend" was faithful and discreet, obeying the injunctions of the deceased to the letter. The "individual" alluded to in Mr. Gammon's note to him, was a beautiful girl whom Mr. Gammon had seduced under a solemn promise of marriage; who was passionately attached to him; whose name he had uttered when on the eve of death; and to whom he had, some six months before, bequeathed the amount of the policy—his will being witnessed by Mary Brown, his housekeeper. Though his creditors were, of course, entitled to every farthing of the £2,000, out of which he had so artfully swindled the Insurance Company, they generously allowed her, in consideration of her peculiar and melancholy situation, and of the will which Mr. Gammon had made in her favor, to receive the sum of three hundred pounds. It sufficed to support her during the few months of suffering and shame which were allotted to her upon earth, after the death of her betrayer; not far from whose remains were then deposited the blighted beauty of her whom he had loved only to destroy.
