 24 When I was a boy at school I used, like other boys, to employ very unprofitably some of my leisure hours in keeping silkworms. In a neighbouring garden there was a large mulberry tree, and for a certain sum, I forget what, I, as well as other boys, was permitted to go in and gather as many leaves as I thought necessary as food for the emblem of the English literary man. I mean the silkworm who spins golden threads for the benefit of others, and whose tomb is valued after he himself is gone. But it is not with the silkworm I have to do now. The leaves which I gathered as a boy are my illustration. I remember very well that I used to place them one upon the other in a pile, and try to gather them as nearly of the same size and shape as I could. But do what I would. I never was able to find two that were exactly alike. A point would stick out here, and a point would stick out there. Some would be a little longer, some would be a little shorter. And I used to marvel even in those young days, that in such a simple thing as a leaf there should be such infinite variety. I have marveled more at human nature since, in which, with all the training and forcing and moulding of society, with similar education, similar laws, I might almost say similar accidents, we never find two characters exactly alike, any more than two leaves perfectly the same on a tree. With this a contemplative age I would venture to meditate upon the subject much farther, for it is a fine one and a strange one. But this is not a contemplative age. It is an age of action wherein no thought that does not apply to the mere business of the day is worth of farthing. I do not mean to abuse it. It is quite as good as any other age that ever was, or perhaps ever will be. But still this is its character. It has lost something, if it has gained something. Let those strike the balance who keep such accounts accurately. I am of the age, so I must onward. And I only put down these meditations because there are some men of a contemplative term, such as I once was myself, and because even men of the most earnest activity have their contemplative moments, and that which is suggestive interests more than just that which is objective. It is difficult to find words to express the infinite, and although it may seem a pleonismatic expression, I must say that all the varieties of human character have infinite varieties within themselves. However, the easily impressible character that which suffers opinions, feelings, thoughts, purposes, actions, to be continually altered by the changing circumstances around, the chameleon character, if I may so call it, is perhaps the most dangerous to itself, and to those it affects, of any that I know. It goes beyond the chameleon indeed. The reptile only reflects the colours of objects near, retaining its own form and nature. The impressible character, on the contrary, is changed in every line as well as in every hue, by that with which it comes in contact. Certain attributes it certainly does retain. The substance is the same, but the colour and the form are always varying. In the substance lie the permanence and the identity. All else is moulded and painted by circumstance. Now substantially there never was a kinder or a better heart in the world than that of Lady Fleetwood. She was ever anxious for the happiness of those around her. She was too anxious in fact, for never thinking they could secure it for themselves, she was always seeking to do it for them, in her own way. In this too she differed from many other persons, that the foundation of her ill-directed activity was not exactly vanity. It was not so much that she thought she knew better than they did what would contribute to their happiness, as that she was always making mistakes as to what their real wishes were. As soon as she was thoroughly convinced and completely comprehended, which seldom happened, what her friends truly desired, no one would labour more zealously to accomplish it than she would, but always in the wrong direction be it remarked. Thus it was nearly as dangerous to let her know one's wishes as to conceal them. This may seem a somewhat singular character, but yet I believe few who have lived long have not met with some specimens modified by circumstances probably, and indeed there is a spice of this same disposition in more people than we know. There may be in ourselves, if you wish to prove the fact, give a commission to a friend, he would do anything to serve you, but he never executes the commission as he received it. When Henry Haley left her drawing-room with Charles Marston, Lady Fleetwood, who had fully made up her mind that her niece Maria ought to marry her nephew Charles, and that she would have married him too, if he had asked her, which, by the by, wasn't the case, was very much disappointed to see a towering impediment rising up in the way of such a consummation, and she resolutely and at once determined to go that very day consult with her brother, Mr. Scriven, in the desperate hope of still bringing it about. She remained firm in her purpose till the visitors who were in the room took their leave also, but then, unfortunately, a conversation took place between her and Maria, which changed all her views and purposes. Take note, reader, that each word is considered, even that word, unfortunately. When the visitors were gone, Lady Fleetwood thought she might as well say something to Maria about Colonel Middleton. She thought she should, at least, learn what her views and intentions were, and very likely her own advice and remonstrances might still affect Maria's decision. Heaven help the poor lady! She was but little aware that Maria's stronger mind and more energetic character had guided her like a child for many years, without ever seeming to do so, indeed, but gently, gaily, laughingly. She had some little difficulty in beginning, for there was a sort of vague consciousness of weakness about her, which occasionally made her timid in her activity. However, she at length said, I did not expect to find Colonel Middleton here this morning, my love. Maria, who knew every turn of her aunt's mind as well as that of her own sandal, saw what was coming, and a slight glow spread over her face, deepening the colour of her cheek and tinging her fair brow and temples. Why not, my dear aunt? She asked, knowing that it would never do to show any timidity. Why, if he was here for an hour before I came in, his visit must have been an early one, replied Lady Fleetwood. Maria mused for a single moment, but then determined upon her course at once. He wished to see me, my dear aunt, she said, and therefore he came to a time when he thought I should be home. Lady Fleetwood began to perceive that the matter was rather hopeless, and shaking her head with a deep sigh, she replied, I am sorry to hear it, my love, I had hoped—there she stopped and looked so disconsolate that Maria, in her own kind and gentle manner, crossed the room, sat down beside her, and laid her hand kindly upon her aunt's. You had hoped what, my dear aunt, she said, and then added with a gay smile, that I should marry Charles. Why, I certainly did hope it, Maria, answered her aunt, and I know that your uncle wished it also. Your wishes, my dear aunt, would always have much weight with me, replied Maria, but I am afraid my uncles upon such a subject as this especially would have none. As the Charles of myself, however, though I am very sorry that any wish of yours should be disappointed, you will, I am sure, admit that I never gave you any reason to believe that such a thing as a marriage, between him and me, could take place. Indeed, quite the contrary. Charles and I are utterly unsuited to each other, though I have a great regard for him, and he the same for me. But even with such not the case, my dear aunt, certainly no marriage can or ought to take place when neither party is willing, and Charles, depend upon it, would be quite as unwilling to marry me as I should be to marry him. But that's no reason, my dear, why you should marry this Colonel Middleton, whom you have known only for a few days, said Lady Fleetwood, almost sharply. Certainly not, answered Maria, her colour a little heightened, nor did I say the time going to do so. But yet I may see a great number of good reasons for doing so, and no reason against it, in any impracticable scheme which friends, however kind, may have thought fit to frame for me and Charles. But tell me, my dear aunt, what objections have you to urge against Colonel Middleton? Why that you have known him so short a time? replied Lady Fleetwood, causing a faint smile to flutter about Maria's pretty lips. And then he is half a foreigner, going on nothing of his character, his disposition, his fortune, his station, nor indeed anything about him. Maria leaned her head thoughtfully on her hand, and mused for a minute or two without reply. Lady Fleetwood thought she had made great progress, that her niece's resolution was shaken, and that by a word or two more she might triumph. Indeed, Maria, she said, you must think better of this matter, and not give this young man such encouragement. I will do everything I can to dissuade you, and I must get your uncle to help me. I have no doubt the man is some foreign adventurer who thinks to raise himself from adversity by marrying an English heiress. Five, five, my dear aunt, cried Maria almost indignantly, this is unlike yourself. Is it generous, is it kind, is it even just, to speak thus of a man of whose character and situation you know nothing? But now, my dear aunt, I will tell you I know everything about him, his family, his fortune, his character, his station. He is no needy adventurer, but a distinguished officer with ample fortune and a high reputation. The Condé de Fraga told me so last night, and if he has met with adversities in life, and sorrows bitter and undeserved, it shall be my task, and a sweet one, to console him and make him forget her. Lady Fleetwood was aghast at the result of her own efforts, for she had never seen Maria so much moved before, and she felt also that there was some truth in the reproachful words of her niece. Well, my dear Maria, she said in a timid tone, I did not know that you had so completely made up your mind, or I should not have said what I did. As to Colonel Middleton's character, of course, as you say, I can know nothing. I only spoke from what your uncle said, but he seemed to think very ill of him. I thought so, replied Maria. It was quite sure, my dear aunt, that it is not in your nature to injure or to reduce anyone even by a word. My uncle is harsh and prejudiced, but surely you will not listen to unfounded suspicions, the justice of which he cannot bring forward a proof to support. I know very well your uncle does dislike him very much, from his likeness to poor Henry Haley, said Lady Fleetwood. For that very reason I should love him, replied Maria warmly, and now, my dear aunt, she said, taking Lady Fleetwood's hand affectionately, do not pain and grieve your Maria by throwing any needless and useless obstacles and objections in my way. Be assured that I know well what I am doing, and shall be perfectly prepared to justify it. But even were such not the case, were Colonel Middleton poor, as you have supposed, you would not, I am sure, provided he could prove himself, as he assuredly can, an honorable and upright man, endeavour to thwart the affection of two people who love each other deeply and devotedly. That such is the case on my part you may be perfectly sure, for no consideration would ever make me give my hand to a man who did not possess my whole heart. You yourself, my dear aunt, have shown that you can feel the deepest and most enduring affection, and you ought to know how painful it is to hear objections, suspicions and prejudices urged against a man whom one loves. The tears came into Lady Fleetwood's eyes. I do indeed, my dear Maria, she said, and now that I know you do love him, far be it from me to do anything to mar your happiness, far, far from it. I will do everything I can on earth to facilitate your views. But still it is very strange that you should become attached to him so soon and so strongly. Why, I have seen many a man paying devoted attention to you for months without being able to obtain anything but the coldest possible return, and in the end a decided rejection. No man had any right to make me reject him, replied Maria, for I have always taken care, my dear aunt, to give no encouragement to such proposals, and I have done my best to avoid them. For you may well believe that nothing would be more painful to me than to inflict pain upon another. But still it is very strange that you should become attached to Colonel Middleton so soon, answered Lady Fleetwood, returning pertinaciously to her point. Maria smiled. There is a secret, my dear aunt, she said, which I must not tell you or anyone yet, but you shall be one of the very first to know it, and when you do it will explain all that now seems strange. Lady Fleetwood meditated, saying, a secret? Well, my dear, I don't wish to pry into any secrets, but be sure that I will do whatever I can to help you. And warming in her new zeal, as she went on, she said, whenever Colonel Middleton comes again I shall go out of the room, just to leave you alone with him, for you may have things to say to each other. No, no, my dear aunt, pray do not do that, exclaimed Maria, only let matters follow their course quietly and easily. Take no notice of the feelings between Colonel Middleton and myself, and I promise you that, if I have anything to say to him, or he to me, which requires to be said in private, I shall very quietly take him into another room, for I am not in the least ashamed of my choice, or afraid of avowing it. Notwithstanding this admonition, excellent Lady Fleetwood was determined to be of service to Maria and her lover. Now that she was fully convinced of which way her niece's happiness really lay, she was all eagerness to promote her views. There was a necessity for activity in some direction upon her, and, had she but possessed the rare quality of discretion, she might indeed have helped the lovers very much, but unfortunately the worthy Lady's first consideration was how she might be active immediately without waiting for opportunity, which is always very indiscreet. No way presented itself to her imagination for some moments, and while Maria retired to her room to dress for going out, and moreover to recover from a greater degree of agitation than she had suffered to appear, Lady Fleetwood went on considering what could best be done to remove all difficulties from her niece's way. As Miss G. Footabit the only thing she could think of was to go and persuade Mr. Scriven that it would be the best possible thing after all for Maria to marry Colonel Middleton. She felt not the slightest doubt in the world that she should be quite successful, for although she had enjoyed plenty of opportunities of judging of her brother, she was not yet convinced of the indisputable fact that Mr. Scriven could never be persuaded. Whether it was that his brains were harder than other men's, or that he never formed a wrong opinion in his life, or that there is a peculiar organ of persuadability which he did not possess, certain it is that he was never known to yield one step when once he had taken up his ground. However, as I have said, Lady Fleetwood felt perfectly confident of success. She was convinced herself, and she thought the same arguments which have produced that effect on her must be convincing with others. She did not remember, indeed, that she was not unlikely to forget one half of them. Nevertheless, she thought, I will not say a word about it to Maria. It would be a pleasant surprise to her to find that her uncle offers no opposition. I will just wait till she has gone out, and then drive to the city at once. CHAPTER 25 At the door of a hotel in St. James's strewt, towards that hour of the day at which waiters, heartless and valets, have the least to do, stood a group consisting of several of those respectable personages, with their hands behind their backs, enjoying the air of the fine spring day, and making impertinent comments upon everybody who passed. Amongst the rest was a tall, thin man of middle age, who had originally possessed very dark hair, as well as a dark complexion, but whose hair and whiskers were now thickly mottled with grey. His face was good and intelligent, his eyes were black and sparkling, his features aquiline and high. Though he was an Italian, his face had not at all the Italian cast, and, well dressed and gentlemanly in appearance, he looked more like an old French nobleman who had escaped the first revolution, than the foreign servant of an English gentleman, which was, in reality, his condition. He and one or two more were standing on the top step of the flight, which descended from the door of the hotel to the street, when a small, sleek, oily-looking man, dressed as a respectable tradesman, approached and spoke to one of the younger waiters, who upon the lowest step was making signs to a chambermaid in the area. I don't know, I am sure. There's his gentleman, said the waiter. Mr. Carlini, this person is asking for your master. Is he at home? No, replied the other, with a very slight foreign accent. He has gone out. Can you tell me where he is to be found, sir? asked the tradesman in a deferential tone. I want to speak with him on important business. He has gone to Lady Fleetwood's in Blank Square, said the Italian. But if your business is not very important indeed, he will not thank you for going there after him. And he turned round to carry on his conversation with the others near. Why, the Colonel is always going to Lady Fleetwood's, Mr. Carlini, said the head waiter, with a jocular air. I should not wonder if you found a mistress there some day. I recollect her a very handsome woman in Sir John's time. What do you think of it? Is it likely to be? Perhaps so. I know nothing about it, replied Carlini, for I never inquire into my master's affairs. Oh, it's all settled, I can tell you, said a perched puppy, who formed the third at the top of the steps. I heard my master talking about it with young Count Fraga this very morning, and it's to be very soon, too. The gentleman who had been speaking to the waiter below heard all this conversation, and then turned away. It might seem a matter of little importance to a man of his apparent pursuits in life, who married another in the higher ranks of society, but yet he seemed very well satisfied with what he had heard, and he chackled a little as he walked up St. James's Street, crossed over to the corner of Abermile Street, and then took his way towards Barkley Square. It only wants working well, he murmured to himself. It only wants working well, and we may make a pretty penny of it. There wasn't trusted to that thick-headed fool, Sam, though. He'd make a mess of it. Going to be married in two days. Well, that's extraordinary. I dare say the old lady wouldn't like to be disappointed, and would pay a handsome sum down to save her lover from being scragged. I mustn't let Sam have anything to do with it. He's so rude and unpolishable. There he stands. I must have a chat with him before the matter goes farther. And, walking on, he found a tall, stout man, who has been already described as holding negotiations with Joshua Brown, the peddler, of rather a fierce and intemperate character. He was not badly dressed upon the present occasion, having clearly put on his Sunday's best for his trip to London. But, nevertheless, he could not, by any means, get rid of a certain blagged air, any more than the ominous black eye which shed a halo of many colors around it on the cheapen temple. As soon as he saw his friend and fellow labourer, Mr. Minji Baoz, he advanced towards him with a quick step, asking eagerly for intelligence, in language which perhaps would not be altogether comprehensible to most of my readers. Mum, said Minji Baoz, holding up his finger, and looking along the pavement under the walls of Lanstown House, where a policeman was seen sauntering slowly and nonchalantly along. His eyes turned towards the wall, as if his sole business in life was to count bricks set in mortar. Come along, Sam, let us go and have a wet at the pig and whistle. The cove's out, but I've got hold of something that, if tidily worked, may fill both our britches' pockets. I'll have mine filled first, said the man he called Sam, for it's my job anyhow, Minji, though I don't mind you having a cut out of the witty. To be sure, to be sure, answered Minji Baoz, that's all fair. I don't want more than a quarter, and I'll manage it, so if you'll let me, that I'll answer for it my quarter shall be more than ever. I took in three months out of the shop, the bank into the bargain. His companion merely gave a grunt, for the policeman was by this time near, and they walked on together across various streets and through various alleys which led into Oxford Street. It is curious and sad that in some of the most fashionable parts of the town of London, within a stone's throw of the mansions of the opulent and great, are, or at least were, some twenty years ago, an immense mass of the lowest and most squalid houses in the metropolis. Close by Grovner and Manchester Squares, and lying between them and Bond Street, are a number of places in which it was dangerous, as the writer once found to his cost, for a respectably dressed person to set foot. There, congregated tier above tier in small, dark, unwholesome rooms, are a whole class of people, in comparison with whom the denizens of St. Giles's may be looked upon as aristocracy. If you walk along one of these courts or alleys, the first things you remark on the right hand and the left are the two confederates in demoralisation and degradation, the pawnbrokers and the gin shop, both tolerated and encouraged by the British government, on account of those iniquitous and burdensome taxes grouped under the name of excise, taxes which, whatever they may do for the revenue, tend more to hamper industry, to debase the people, to make rogues of honest men, to prevent the employment of the poor, to give monopoly to the rich, to obstruct salutary laws, and to disgrace the legislature than any imposts that ever were invented by the great British demon taxation. The fact is, ministers there not deal with the gin shop nuisance as they would with any other nuisance for fear of diminishing the revenue. And when they come before parliament and boast of an increased revenue from the excise, which they call the barometer of commercial prosperity, they boast, in fact, of how much they have been able to ring from the vices, the follies, or the hard labours of the industrious classes. They say neither more nor less than this, there must have been more demand for labour because the labouring classes have been able to drink more gin, to smoke more tobacco, and to swill more beer. This is a very irrelevant tirade, but it would be written. Beyond the pawnbrokers and the gin shop you enter into the heart of the den, probably meeting at the first two or three steps, some half-clad women, with foul, matted hair, strange-shaped caps which were once white, and yellowish handkerchiefs loosely spread over the otherwise uncovered bosom. Perhaps there is a short pipe in the mouth, and there is gin in every hue of the face, and the eyes are blared and inflamed with habitual intoxication. There may be a miserable baby in the arms or on the back, the naked feet and legs appearing from beneath the rags that cover it, sallow, sickly, sharp-faced, keen-eyed, the nursing of misery, despair, and vice, the destined victim of every evil passion and every degrading crime. Above, below, around, from every window in cellar, in attic, in the middle floors come forth the varied murmurs in different tongues and tones, the slang and can't of English rogues and vagabonds, the brogue of Ireland, or the old Irish language itself, the shouts of wrath or merriment, the groans of anguish, the cries of pain or sorrow, the gay laugh, the dull buzz of tongues consulting over deeds of evil, telling tales of despair and woe, or asking counsel how to avoid starvation. As you go on, innumerable other different forms you meet, in every shape of degradation, the fierce, bludgeoned bully, the dexterous pickpocket, the wretched woman who acts as their decoy, the boys and girls serving an apprenticeship device, the hoary prompters of all evil, who in the shape of receivers, profit by the crimes of the younger and more active. Look at that girl there in the tattered, chint skull. She can scarcely be sixteen, and yet see how she reels from side to side in beastly intoxication. And then that elderly man in the shabby brown coat, with the venerable white hair, who goes walking along by the side of the gutter, and every now and then stops and gazes in, as if he saw something exceedingly curious there. He is a respectable looking man with a gentlemanly air and carriage. A thief and a man suspected of murder are just passing him. But he is quite safe. They know he has nothing to lose, and his emaciated body would not fetch two pounds at the anatomists. What is it that has brought him to this state? Look in his face, see the dull, meaningless eye, the nose and lips bloated with habitual, sottish tippling. That man can boast that he never was drunk in his life. But for more than forty years, he has never been quite sober. Hark to the screams coming forth from that house where one half of the windowpains at least are covered up with paper. They are produced by a drunken scoundrel beating his unhappy wife. She was once an honest, cheerful, happy country girl. And now I must not stay to tell the various stages of degradation she has gone through, till she is here, the wife of a drunken savage in one of the lowest and vilest dens of London. Hark how the poor thing screams under the ruffians blows, while one of his brutal companions sits hard by and witnesses it, laughing. Three days hence, by one too fatally directed blow, that man will murder the wretched woman in the presence of her two children, and then will go and end his own days on a scaffold, leaving those wretched infants to follow the same course in after years. I must not pause upon these things more. It was through such scenes as I have described that Minjibow's and his companion took their way without the slightest fear or trepidation, for it would seem that they both knew the haunt right well. They went up a very narrow sort of court out of Oxford Road, and then turned into a broader and more reputable looking street. The heaven knows it was bad enough. About half way down was an open door, over which were written some letters required by the excise, and by the side of which, on a board about two feet square, appeared a curious painting. On a background intended to represent sky and cloud, though in reality it looked more like a torn blue coat, with a white shirt peeping through the rinse, appeared a tolerably well painted sow, standing on her hind legs, with a flagellate in her mouth, whence this unpleasant resort of rope and vagabonds took its name of the pick and whistle. Minjibow and his friend went in, pushed the first swing door open, then past a second, for there was no impediment in the way, at least for the moment, though there were bolts and bars in plenty about, which might possibly be used at times to shut out suspicious characters. The sense of words, of course, differs in different places, and perhaps by the term suspicious characters, two very different classes of persons would be meant by the police, and by the landlord of the pick and whistle. The latter, at all events, did not seem to consider Mr. Minjibow's and his friend Sam, as within the category, but he made them a very reverent bow as they entered that apartment which bore an ironical inscription, designating it as the commercial room. With Sam, he seemed quite familiar, and to Minjibow's was highly deferential, for gentlemen of Minjibow's calling are very important personages in the great community of thieves and scoundrels. As soon as he had brought the liquor, which his two guests demanded, the landlord, well skilled in the usages of his own peculiar world, retired from the room, which for the time had no other tenants than those just arrived. And so the cove was out, Minjibow said Sam, who had by this time recovered in some degree from his first disappointment. But what's this you've found out that you think you may work well? Minjibow took a sip of his brandy and water, looked into his glass and seemed to consider like one of Homer's heroes before he began to tell his story. When it began, however, it was not a very long one. Why, as far as I can make out, Sam, he replied at length, the young man is a going to be married to a rich lady, a good deal older than himself. Damn, what's that to me? asked the Ruffian. A great deal, answered Minjibow's, for I think it was 10 to one, your scheme broke down with the young man. Well, I am quite sure we can make it answer with the old woman. Broke down? How the devil should it break down? asked Sam with great indignation. Why, I had nothing to do but to tell him that I'd blow him together if he didn't give three or four hundred down. But he might think you couldn't, Sam, said Minjibow's in a slight tone. You may say you would soon have shown him that you could, and that you'd tell him his own real name, and all that you made out from the pocketbook. But then you see, Sam, it's very much more than probable that the fellow who came after the book has told him by this time that you put it in the fire. Then the young man will lay his calculation this way. As the cove has burned the book, he can't prove anything but by his own word. Now he can't come forward to swear, even if he's swearing, would be of any good. For if he swears at all, he must swear that he knocked me down and took my pocketbook. And then what's his oath worth? If I give him a penny, he'll be sure to come bothering me for more. That's what he will say, Sam, and devilish right too. Not quite so right after all, answered the man, for if I can't prove nothing myself, I can put those upon the sense as well. He wouldn't like that, Minjibow, and I shall just tell him so. If there's anybody that can prove that he's the same man who ten years ago was called Henry Haley, they can hang him, that's all, for the paper that showed who did forge the gentleman's name was burned in that book. Now take my word for it, Minjee, he won't let it come to that for the sake of a cool 100 or two. Do you recollect whose name it was that was forged, asked Minjibow's, fixing his shrewd eyes upon the big man's face? To be sure I do, answered the other, it was Scrivenham Company, and hang me if the young fellow makes any mouths at it, I'll find out where Scrivenham Company put up, and tell them all about it. For heaven's sake, don't do that, cried Minjee Bowes, with a look of consternation. It was bad enough burning the pocketbook, but if once you tell, you've given the whip out of your own hands altogether, my man, let me try it with the old lady first. I think we might manage to get a thousand pound out of her to save her young man, if we can, but get her to believe that we can grab him when we like. If you like to leave her to me, Sam, I'll take you a bet I'll screw something out of her. The ruffian seemed a good deal impressed by the cogency of Mr. Bowes's arguments, especially in regard to the impropriety of suffering his valuable secret to slip from him in any fit of rage. No, no, it won't do, he said, I can see that clear enough to go and tell Scrivenham Company till I've tried everything else, and as to the old lady, Minji, I don't care if you try her, but I'll try the young man, too. And I say, Minji, remember, fair play's a jewel, and if it's understood I am to have three quarters of whatever we get, and you one quarter. So no kicking, Master Minji. Honor, honor, said Minji, laying his hand upon his heart. But now let's have something to eat after this brandy of water. I dare say the landlord has got some cold roast pork. He generally has. His pleasant anticipations were fulfilled. The landlord had cold roast pork, and it was speedily placed upon the table before him and his companion, together with a fresh supply of brandy and water. Minji calculated upon discussing all points, which wanted further elucidation of a cold pork and mustard. But here he was disappointed, for hardly had each helped himself abundantly when the room was flooded by a stream of the usual guests, who seemed just returned from some successful enterprise, so that any further private conversation was at an end. All sorts of things were called for by the newcomers. Minji and Sam were saluted by several, who had some slight acquaintance with them. Beer, gin, brandy, flowed abundantly. Some stood, some sat, all talked together. There was a great deal of swearing, a great deal of laughter, a great deal of abuse. One half of them seemed to be quarrelling with the other half, though in reality they were only what is called chaffing. But from one special corner of the room a continual strain of angry words was heard to rise, which went on with greater and greater vehemence, till at last the blow was struck and returned. Two or three who were near rushed forward, perhaps to see what was going on, perhaps to keep the peace. But somehow the pugnacious spirit seemed to spread. Fists seemed to be flying about very thick, and in the midst of the uproar and confusion, the cause of which nobody appeared clearly to understand. The two men with whom the riot had originated came struggling forward out of their corner, driving back the crowd, knocking over the tables and benches, smashing off glasses, and squeezing flat the pewterware. Minji Bowles did not like the scene at all, although he was often compelled to witness such, for besides being small and fragile, he was a very peaceable person and thought force of cunning much superior to force of arm. Besides he calculated upon having his character compromise, and he soon saw that such was very likely to be the case. His more pugnacious companion, Sam, who never could resist a row when it was either within sight or hearing, had just started up and rushed into the midst of the affray, exclaiming, I'll soon settle that, when Minji Bowles having raised his eyes to the window in the vain hope of finding some means of exit, perceived two or three ominous looking heads gazing in, and at the same time heard the sound of a rattle. He would have given worlds to reach the door, but that was impossible, for the combatants were exactly in the way, and in a minute after his worst anticipations were realized, for just as the landlord was attempting to restore peace, an overwhelming force of police poured in, and the whole body of vagabonds there assembled, inclusive of Sam and his friend, were marched off to the station house. End of chapter 25 Chapter 26 of the forgery by George Payne Rainsford James. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 26 There was a fatality about Lady Fleetwood's views and wishes. We see the same often, and foolish people imagine that there is something in the character of the individual, which so assuredly makes the schemes of certain persons fail of effect. It is all a mistake. No man has a mind sufficiently capacious. No man has power sufficiently extensive. Let his wit, wisdom, judgment, command be as elevated and as infinite as they may to grasp and rule the circumstances which surround even the smallest of his plans, the most insignificant of his actions, and say, this shall succeed. He cannot say with certainty, I will walk out of that open door. He may design according to the probabilities which are apparent to him. He may exercise a keen judgment. He may bring long experience to bear upon the subject. He may calculate by all that the keenest and the justice observation has taught him, and he may combine by the powers of a well-regulated and long-exercised reason. But when he has done this, he has done all. The rest belongs to fate, which, in other words, is the will of God. The man who has well and thoughtfully watched the progress of events must know that there is not a straw so small that it may not throw down a giant in his course. And if Napoleon Bonaparte, the pampered child of undeserved success, did really say, which I do not believe, I propose and I dispose too. He had used to very little purpose the experience of a life. Still, it must be admitted that Lady Fleetwood's plans were not always the best calculated. She took too much for granted. She had an enormous number of very frail ladders, with which she proposed to scale the high walls that opposed her, and which always broke down at the very first step she set upon them. In the present instance, however, she was disappointed, not at all by her own fault. She set out to see Mr. Scriven at an hour when, perhaps during the last six or seven and twenty years, he would not have been found absent from his counting-house on any three lawful days. Nevertheless, Mr. Scriven was not there when she arrived in the city. The head clerk knew not where he had gone, nor when he would return. So there was no sending for him, no waiting for him. And all that Lady Fleetwood could do was to leave word that she very much wished to see him, if he could call upon her during the following morning. The head clerk promised to give him the message faithfully, and Lady Fleetwood went out. The next moment, however, she returned again to say that she should be glad if he could call about eleven. Then she returned again to add that she would thank him to send for her down into the library. And a third time she returned to beg that he would not say to anyone she had called to ask for him. The head clerk knew Lady Fleetwood well, and very readily promised to deliver all her messages. But they did not get very accurately to Mr. Scriven's ears, not with standing. And on the following day the excellent Lady, having got her niece Maria to go out earlier than usual, and given her servants due directions, sat in the library ready to receive her brother in vain. Eleven, a quarter past eleven, went by, and Lady Fleetwood, who was as impatient as a girl of eighteen, tripped likely up to her own room, proposing to go out and call upon her brother, as he had not attended to her summons. The distance was not great. She knew the exact way he would come. She should either meet him as he came, or catch him before he went into the city. Poor Lady Fleetwood. She was rarely, if ever destined, to do what she intended to do. The servant opened the door for his mistress to pass out, with his hat and long cane, as was customary in those days, ready to follow. But lo and behold, upon the step of the door, with hand ready stretched out to seize the knocker, appeared a little, neatly dressed man, with a shrewd, intelligent countenance. Lady Fleetwood set him down at once for some tradesman, or some tradesman's shopman, and being, as I have shown, very careful and economical, she paused to make inquiries, saying, What do you want, my good man? I wanted to speak a few words with Lady Fleetwood, said Minji Bowes, for it was he delivered from incarceration. My name is Lady Fleetwood, replied the lady, while Minji took off his hat very reverently. But you see, I'm going out just now and therefore, Mum, it's a matter of great importance, said the man interrupting her. It would be much better for you to hear what I've got to say at once. Well, what is it? asked the old lady, somewhat impatiently. I can't tell you here, Mum, replied the other. You'd not like it if I did. If I could say a word to you alone, it would be much better. This is very strange, said Lady Fleetwood, beginning to feel some degree of alarm, though curiosity predominated most decidedly. She looked over the person of Mr. Minji Bowes with an inquiring glance, but there was nothing very formidable in a little man's appearance. When dressed in his best, as on the present occasion, he was decidedly dapper. Now nothing that is all dapper can ever be awful, and therefore, having considered him well for a minute, Lady Fleetwood repeated, it is very strange. However, come in here with me. John stands you near the door, and if my brother comes, show him upstairs. But don't you go away from the door yourself, for I do not know what this person wants. Thus saying, she walked into the dining-room, and Mr. Minji Bowes followed with perfectly well-bred composure. He shut the door carefully behind him, while Lady Fleetwood seated herself in an armchair, and pointed to another on the opposite side of the room, in order to keep the table between her and her visitor, begged him to be seated. The worthy gentleman accordingly sat down, brought the inside of his hat over his knees, and bending forward, so as to get his head as far across the table as possible, he said in a low voice, I think my lady, you're acquainted with a Colonel Middleton, aren't you, my lady? Yes, sir, said Lady Fleetwood with a look of surprise. I have the pleasure of knowing him very well. I think my lady rejoined Mr. Bowes, putting on a cunning and amiable look. There's like to be a nearer connection, isn't there, my lady? Lady Fleetwood's face flushed with surprise and dismay, to find the secret of Maria's engagement to Colonel Middleton, already known to such a person as the man before her. Good gracious! she exclaimed. Who told you that? Did Colonel Middleton himself? Oh, dear, no, my lady, replied Minzy Bowes. I never saw Colonel Middleton in all my life that I know of. Then in the name of heaven, what do you want? demanded Lady Fleetwood. I just a little bit of business ma'am, answered the dealer in marine stores. But before I go on, I should like very much to hear whether what I have been told by those who ought to know about there being such a connection on the carpet, as I may say, is true or not. That's pressed, Lady Fleetwood replied after a good deal of hesitation. Why, I believe it is to which assertion she added a strongly confirmatory nod of the head. Very well, my lady, continued Mr. Bowes, as soon as he was satisfied on the point. Then the thing comes to this. You see, that gentleman, that Colonel Middleton, he's quite a gentleman, I believe, and I don't mean to say anything against it, but there's a little bit of a secret about him. And that, a secret which might put him in very great danger if it were to be known to everyone. Ah, that it might, he continued, seeing the consternation on Lady Fleetwood's face growing deeper and deeper every moment. Why, it might cost him his life, ma'am, and no mistake. Really, this is very terrible, exclaimed the poor old lady, not knowing what to say or what to do. Why, it is indeed, replied Minjee Bowes, but I dare say it can be managed very easily for a small sum. I really do not understand what you mean, sir, said the worthy lady. I thought scatting more and more into confusion every moment. Why, now I'll explain it all to you in a minute, replied Mr. Bowes, in a tone of kind familiarity. You see the case is this, ma'am. This gentleman, Miss Colonel Middleton, happened by chance the other night to lose his pocketbook. Now, he lost it is neither here nor there. But a friend of mine, a very respectable young man, found it and looking in to see who's it could be. He found a whole heap of letters and papers and things, which told him the whole story about this Colonel Middleton. And how, though he's a very nice young man and all that, his life's in danger in this here country on account of something that happened ten years ago. Lady Fleetwood sat confounded for her mind and her imagination had made great progress during the man's statement. Like a finely balanced magnetic needle, which has been slightly deranged by some accident, her judgment had wavered about a good deal. But it pointed right at last. First, she came to the conclusion from the man's speech that Colonel Middleton was not what he appeared to be. And then that he was certainly Henry Haley. How to act? What to say? However, she did not know and all she could utter was, Well, well. Well, as you say, Mom, rejoined Mr. Minjibow's. The matter, no doubt, will be easily settled. For my friend, who found the book, is quite inclined to be reasonable. He's quite a shy, timmy young man, and he asked me to arrange the matter for him. You know, Bowes, he said to me, when one has got hold of such a secret as this, it is all fair that he should make something out of it. But I don't want to behave at all unhandsome, so I wish you would go and see what can be done and I'll contempt myself with a trifle, Bowes, he said. Is your name Bowes? Asked Lady Fleetwood, who, as I have before remarked, had a terrible habit of darting off at a tangent. Yes, Mom, replied her visitor. My name is Bowes, Minjibow's at your service. It's a very good name, said Lady Fleetwood. There was a Mr. Bowes I used to know very well, who lived down near Durham. No wonder if you are any relations. No, Mom, none at all. Answered Minjibow's. I never had no relations at all. Oh, dear, yes, you must have had some relations at some time, said Lady Fleetwood. Set hard to work to prove to Mr. Bowes that at some time or another he must have had some relations, if nothing better than a father and mother, a fact which he did not attempt to contrivert, but returned at once like a man of business to the more immediate subject of discourse. Lady Fleetwood's little excursion, however, had done her good. It had suffered her mind to repose and compose itself. And if she made any mistakes now, it was not because she was agitated and confused. Well, you see, my lady, continued Minjibow's. I said to the gentleman who found the book, why don't you go yourself? No, no, says he, you go, I only want once fair. And I'll leave you to judge of that. So then I said to him, what would you think of a thousand pounds? So then he answered, well, that will do, though it ought to be fifteen hundred. This was coming to the point, Mr. Bowes imagined, and doubted not that Lady Fleetwood would take the matter up at once, as he intended it. He was a little surprised and disappointed, however, when, after he had made a dead stop and waited for a moment or two, the excellent lady coolly demanded, and pray, what have I to do with all this? What made you come to me about it? Mr. Minjibow's, however, was rarely puzzled for an answer, sometimes plunging into the rigmarole, sometimes taking refuge in the most laconic brevity. Well, you see, Mom, we talked that over, too, he said. My friend wished me to go to the colonel at once about it, but I said, no, that won't be delicate. If there's any friend we could get to break the matter to him. Well then, says he, go to Lady Fleetwood, she's the person. You may give her my solemn word of honour that if I have the thousand pounds, I'll not say a single word to nobody. And it's very likely, says he, that she'll never say a word to him about it, but give the money herself as she's going to marry him. What, I? exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, almost with a shriek. Did he mean I was going to marry Colonel Middleton? Yes, my lady, answered Mr. Minjee Bowes, almost as much astonished as she was. Why, you told me so, almost as minute yourself. You impudent person, exclaimed Lady Fleetwood angrily. I should have soon think of marrying you as Colonel Middleton. I'm quite old enough to be his mother. But what you said about the connection, said Minjee Bowes, with a good deal of perturbation, seeing that he had made one mistake, at least in not knowing how far it had gone. Oh, now I see, exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, my good friend, you and I have been playing at cross purposes all this time. I have no personal interest in Colonel Middleton whatsoever, though I am told he is going to be married to a relation of mine. Then hang me if I've not wasted my time, said Minjee Bowes, starting up from the table. But just at that moment, a bright thought, one of her own peculiar bright thoughts, came across Lady Fleetwood's mind. I must not let this man go away altogether disappointed, she said, for fear he should go and make terrible mischief. I see the whole business as clear as possible now. This Colonel Middleton is poor Henry Haley and Maria knows it. That is a secret she would not tell me. And she knows or thinks that he can prove himself innocent of the forgery in a few days. Now, if I let this man go away dissatisfied, he may very likely spoil all their plans. I know nothing about it. How should I know? And if Maria had thought fit to tell me, I might have known how to act, for I'm sure no one was ever more thoroughly convinced that poor Henry Haley, however much appearances might be against him, never did think of forging my brother's name, than I have always been. As to giving the man a thousand pounds, that is out of the question, for I haven't got it to give. And if Henry is innocent, as I am sure he is, there can be no need of it. And yet if I send him away disappointed and angry, he may make a fuss, which is always exceedingly unpleasant. She puzzled herself sorely as to what was best to be done under these perplexing circumstances, but at length a notable scheme presented itself to her mind for the purpose of gaining time and suffering the plans of Maria and Henry Haley to develop themselves undisturbed. Early the day after tomorrow, she thought, we set out with Lady Anne for the North. And if I tell this man to come here at noon on that day, we shall be gone, Colonel Middleton and all. In the meantime, I can insult about it. And should there be any necessity, leave a note or a message to give explanations and to make arrangements. The man must see that I cannot decide upon anything at once. Although thought is very rapid, though this and a great deal more pass through the mind of Lady Fleetwood in a very few moments. Yet the pause was sufficiently long to attract the attention of Minjee Bowes and make him linger still in the hope of bringing his negotiation to some more satisfactory conclusion. Although he was terribly tempted to say something more, yet like a wise man he refrained from a sort of intuitive perception that the weakness of the other party might do something for him which his own strength could not accomplish. He did not walk to the door, however, as his first sudden start up from the table had seemed to promise and at length he was rewarded by hearing Lady Fleetwood's voice once again. I can have very little to do with this business, she said, but at the same time, as the gentleman is a very intimate friend and is likely to be a connection of some members of my family, I have no objection, whatever, to talk to him upon the subject and see what he thinks fit to do. Minjee Bowes was very well disposed to listen to this offer, as to say truth, he had only come there for the purpose of opening a negotiation to be carried to greater advantages at a future period. A little bluster, however, might be as well, and he replied gruffly, Well, Mum, I hope you'll make haste about it then, for we haven't much time to spare and my friend must do one thing or the other. So if the gentleman says yes, well, and if he says no, well, we can but go and tell Mrs. Scriven and company the whole story after all. Dear me, exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, you seem to know all the people about here quite well. Mr. Scriven is my brother, however, I shan't be able to see and consult anybody till the day after tomorrow. So if you like to come here at twelve on that day, you shall have an answer, yes or no. That's a long while, Mum, said Minjee, with a good deal of affected sulleness. I should think, for that matter, a lady like you might give such a trifle herself without waiting to consult at all. You're very much mistaken, sir, answered Lady Fleetwood sharply. In the first place, I am not called upon to give anything as the gentleman is no connection of mine, whatever. In the next place, I do not know whether it would be right to give anything at all, and in the third, I should not know how much to give, but at all events you have my answer and can come at twelve o'clock the day after tomorrow or not, just as you think fit. Oh, I'll come, said Minjee Bowes, but you'd better tell the gentleman, my lady, that if he does not come down handsome, he's done to a dead certainty. I don't understand what you mean, sir, said Lady Fleetwood, but at all events I cannot talk any more upon the subject and therefore shall beg to wish you good morning. Thus saying, she rang the bell sharply and made a ceremonious curtsy to Mr. Minjee Bowes, saying aloud to the servant who appeared, show that person out, and if he comes at twelve the day after tomorrow, let me see him. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 of the forgery by George Payne Rinsford James. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 27 There's a person below inquiring for your excellency, said Colonel Middleton's foreign servant, entering the sitting room where his master sat writing a note. Who is he, Carlini? asked the young officer, looking up. Is it the same man who was here before? No, sir, replied the servant. This is a taller, stouter man, dressed somewhat like the other. He says you know him, and that his name is Joshua Brown. Oh, show him up, show him up, said Colonel Middleton. I will see him by all means. The servant retired, and in a moment or two returned with our good friend, the peddler, but Joshua Brown's face, upon the present occasion, bore an expression which, in the course of their short acquaintance, Colonel Middleton had never seen it assume. It was a sort of hesitating, undecided expression, very different from the frank and easy, though unpresuming manner, which he generally displayed in addressing persons whom he looked upon as his superiors. Henry remarked it, but at the same time he treated the man exactly as he would otherwise have done, saying, Sit down, Brown, I'm very glad to see you. Have you brought me any information? A little, sir, replied the peddler, but I am sorry to say it is not all good. About the pocketbook. Oh, never mind the pocketbook for the present, said Colonel Middleton. That is a very little consequence compared with the certificate. I'm glad to hear you say so, sir, answered the peddler. I hope you may think so still when I've told you all. As to the certificate, there it is. I thought I should know my way back. I don't forget very easily, and I walked yesterday straight as a line to the place where I thought it was to be found. The old clerk's dead, and a dapper young fellow in his place, who found it out in a minute. You owe me half a crown, sir, for that. A great deal more, said Colonel Middleton. His eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the paper. St. Mary's Westfield, he continued reading aloud. How far is that from town? About sixteen miles, sir, replied the man. Is that the gentleman's name you expected to find? Exactly, replied Henry, placing the paper in his writing desk. It only confirms what I knew before. said the peddler, in a very peculiar tone. But he added something more, and Henry, looking up, said, Now for the pocket-book, my good friend. Why, I suppose you guess, sir, by this time, that I have not got it, replied the peddler, and I am sorry to say you shall never get it now. Indeed, exclaimed Colonel Middleton, in a tone of surprise and disappointment. How has that happened? Have they destroyed it? They have, sir, said Joshua Brown, and that in my presence, too. And he looked in the face of Colonel Middleton with a keen and inquisitive expression, as if seeking to form a judgment, from what he there beheld, regarding some doubtful questions in his mind. That is unpleasant, said Colonel Middleton, in a grey but ordinary, matter-of-fact tone, as if he had lost in the pocket-book the value of a thousand pounds or more. Now let the reader remark and remember that a man's face and manners bear a very different expression when he has lost something very valuable, which he regrets much, and would give a great deal to recover, and when something has occurred which generates apprehension. The passions are different, and so are the effects. In one instance they have reference to the past, and in the other reference to the future, and nothing can be more different than the looks of regret and fear. Now, or that Colonel Middleton felt or seemed to feel, was regret. Well, tell me how it all happened, he said, curious that they should burn it in your presence when they had the certainty of getting a considerable sum of money for it. Joshua Brown set to work to convince him that nothing in the world could be more natural, but he did not altogether succeed. I'm afraid, said Colonel Middleton, that these good gentry must have discovered that there was something very important to me in that pocketbook, but why they should burn it I cannot conceive. It was curious to remark the changes of expression which came over the plain and almost harsh features of the peddler during his conversation with Colonel Middleton, and certainly if the face is in any degree the index of the mind, he underwent more changes of emotion that day than were all customary with him. A look almost of anxiety now came into his face as he answered, I'm afraid, sir, that they had found out how important the pocketbook was to you and had arranged all their plans to make what they call a good job out of it. Nevertheless, I don't think that they were quite clear as to all the little particulars, so that perhaps they can't do as much mischief as they would. Colonel Middleton paused in thought for a moment and then said with a grave look, as far as I can remember, the contents of that book were quite sufficient to afford them the means of discovering the whole particulars of a transaction long past which I do not wish to rebuy. But what could make them destroy the pocketbook I cannot conceive, for the contents must have induced them to believe that its preservation would be much more profitable to them than its destruction. I am afraid, sir, said the peddler frankly, that I did not altogether manage the matter for you well. You see, sir, I was ignorant of the circumstances. You had told me how much you would give and I did not like to offer more, especially when the rascal who had got the book tried to exact more by threats. By threats, did he? said Colonel Middleton. How much did you offer, my good friend? I offered a hundred pounds, sir, as you said, and to make them think that I had no interest in the matter, I pretended to require something for myself out of the money. There was my mistake, I think. Oh, no, replied Henry, with a degree of indifference which surprised the peddler very much. I think you did quite right. I would not have given more than a hundred pounds. That was quite enough. Then the blaggard must have been making a great mistake, said Joshua Brown with a relieved look, for he seemed quite sure that you would give a great deal more and said there was that in the pocketbook which might hang you or save you. And you have believed him, my good friend, replied the young officer looking at him with a smile, while the colour mounted up in the peddler's brown cheek. But if you had considered one moment, Brown, you would have seen that had that book contained, as the Ruffian said, the means of hanging me, he would never have thought of destroying documents that gave him such a power over me. No, to be plain to you. The book did contain full and satisfactory proofs of my innocence of an act once imputed to me. By destroying them the villain did me a great disservice. But thank God they are not the only proofs, and those that still exist I trust will be sufficient. Well, sir, said Brown, I am sorry I attended to the man at all, and if I had but thought a bit, as you say, I must have seen that his conduct and his word were not consistent. However, what made him burn the pocketbook was the sight of a constable walking up and down before the house. The two scoundrels chose to think that I had brought him there, and that as soon as I had got the book I should give them into custody. So away it went into the fire in a minute, and I could not get it out, for they were two to one, and though Master Minji Bowes is a little one, his comrade is worth two of me at any time. So one is a little man, said Colonel Middleton thoughtfully, try and describe him to me. Yet stay him in it, and ringing the bell he ordered the waiter to send his servant. As soon as Carlini had entered the room Colonel Middleton said, Now go on, Mr. Brown, I merely wished my servant to hear your description of this good gentleman. You mark it, Carlini, and let me know whether it seems to be the same person who was here this morning. The peddler, who, as I have before shown, was a very minute and accurate observer, proceeded to give a full and particular account of the personal appearance of Mr. Minji Bowes, while the Italians stood by and listened, bending his head gravely and approvingly, from time to time, as the other proceeded. When at length Joshua Brown paused, Carlini turned to his master, saying, The same sir, exactly, and then at a sign retired. Now then Brown, who is this person, demanded Colonel Middleton, for it seems he is not the person who actually had the pocketbook. No, sir, he's the fence," replied the peddler. That's to say, the receiver, and it was at his house I saw the other man, whose name I do not know any more than that it is, Sam. Well, this man called here today, said Colonel Middleton, and I suppose the object now is to extort money from me by threats. Don't you doubt it, sir, said Joshua Brown. That's the game which is always playing in London, and those horse leeches, as soon as once they are fixed, never let go till they have drained every drop of blood out of a man's body. There are many thousands of them in this city who live by nothing else. Many a man they break down in health, as well as in fortune and happiness, and many another they drive to commit suicide. We can pitiful must their victims be, said Colonel Middleton, somewhat contemptuously. For none but a mere slave to fear would yield to threats which he must know would necessarily go on increasing in virulence. I'm not quite sure of that, sir, replied the peddler. All men have their weaknesses, and I believe all men have their timid side. It is a part of the trade, as such fellows as these, to find out where a man is likely to be afraid, and hunt him down upon that. I have known many a very brave man who would have fought anybody or anything, but who could not face an accusation. Colonel Middleton meditated for a moment or two and then replied, these scoundrels will find themselves very much mistaken if they fancy that such fears will influence me. I think they will, sir, replied the peddler. But I would advise you to be careful what you do with them, for I think a cunning of thief was never known than that same Minji Bows. And if he cannot manage one way, depend upon it. You'll try another. Without success, answered Henry. But now, my good friend, as to you I am considerably indebted for many services. I would faint settle that account before we part, that you may not think me ungrateful. Oh, sir, I have no claim to make, replied the peddler. I'm very glad to have served you, and the loss of time has not been much. I should like, however, to know how this other business goes on, and I should not be sorry to see Master Minji Bows myself, and talk to him a bit upon what he's about, for I might give you some sort of hint, that would be serviceable. Henry Haley seemed to think for a moment over the proposal before he answered, but at length he replied, well, be that as you like. He can do no harm and might, per chance, do some good. I suppose that, beyond all doubt, one or both of the two villains will be here ere long again, and if you were to remain at the hotel and meet them unexpectedly when they come, they might feel not very pleasantly surprised. My servant shall take care of you, if you like to stay. As for myself, I shall away at once to St Mary's Westfield. The peddler smiled. I will tell you what, sir, he said, you may want me in that business too, before long, and so, when I go away from here, I shall tell your servant where I am to be found when needed. I do not think you can be of any more service to me there, than you have already been, replied Henry, but nevertheless I shall be very glad of your address. We shall see, sir, we shall see, said the peddler. Don't think me impertinent, but I know something of almost everything under the sun, and more of this matter than a great many. Indeed, said Henry, pray, tell me how that may be. No, no, sir, answered the peddler, not just yet. I'll only ask one favour of you, which is, that you will always let me know where you are to be found for the next six weeks, and I'll do the same by you. Henry laughed, saying, well, my good friend, I will agree to the compact, though it is somewhat unequal. Carlini, he continued speaking to his servant who entered with a note, take care of this good gentleman who has been of a great service to me lately, and if that person returns, who was it inquiring for me this morning, let Mr. Brown deal with him, as he knows something of him. Yes, Your Excellency, replied the valet. But Lady Anne's servant is waiting for an answer. Henry unfolded the letter and read. I will go directly, he replied, send a chaise after me, Carlini, to Lady Anne's. I shall not be home for dinner, most likely not till eight, but certainly by that time. In the meantime, take care of Mr. Brown. Thus, saying, he retired for a moment to his bedroom, returned with his hat and some papers in his hand, and set out at once leaving his servant and the peddler together. End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 of the forgery by George Payne Rainsford James This Librivovshire Cording is in the public domain. Chapter 28 Perhaps no two animals upon the face of the earth have fewer points of attraction for each other in all ordinary circumstances than a plain English peasant and an Italian valet. When Joshua Brown and Carlo Carlini were left together in the sting room of the master of the latter, there was but one single link of sympathy between them, and that a very remote and indirect one. Every Italian, I believe, not from nature, perhaps, but from the circumstances and accidents of his country, has more or less of the peddler in him. He is always dealing with some kind of wheres, religious, political, moral, philosophical, even if they be not commercial in the ordinary sense, wherein he is very sharp, too. He is always exalting these wheres with praise and magnifying his own information and capabilities. And he is, nine times out of ten, trying to make you believe that Pinchbeck is gold and that an Italian is an old Roman. I speak generally without meaning to say for one moment that there are not many exceptions, but still between such a man as Joshua Brown and such another as Carlo Carlini there seemed to be but one tie, namely, the peddlerism, which I have mentioned. There were, however, in reality, other and better ties, which they found out after a time. And strange to say, the most powerful of these was honesty of purpose. Will you come down with me, sir, and take a glass of wine? said Carlo Carlini to the peddler, well knowing what his master's injunction to take care of his guest implied. Or perhaps you have not dined, sir, and would like something more solid. There was a certain dignity and grace about the man, nothing abated by his foreign accent and look, which had a good deal of effect upon the peddler, whose general notions of valets and valetry were not very sublime. Really, thought Joshua Brown, this is quite a grand sort of a man. One would take him for a prince in disguise if one didn't know better. He seemed no way proud, however, but just like his master. Here his contemplations came to an end and he replied with a low bow. Thank you, sir, I have not dined. As to wine, it's very little of it I get, for there's less of it in our country than in yours, I take it, and not very good either. There is plenty of very good wine in England, said Carlini, shaking his head solemnly backwards and forwards, only very dear, Mr. Brown, but my master, who is a rich man and a liberal one, does not grudge me my glass of wine, knowing that I have been accustomed to it all my life, as well as himself, for we both come from countries where there is nothing else but wine to be drunk, except water. Is not your master an Englishman, then? asked Mr. Brown. No, a Spaniard, to be sure, replied Carlini with a start. What made you think he was an Englishman? Why, his language, his name, his manner, his look, said Joshua Brown, all made me feel sure he was an Englishman. Oh, as to his language, said Carlini, he speaks Italian, Spanish and French, just as well as he does English, and then, as to his name, that's his father's name, and he was an Englishman. His manners and appearance may be English too, but nevertheless he has lived with Spaniards all his life, having been brought up as the nephew and heir of Don Balthazar de San Mosa. But come, let us go down, Mr. Brown, you shall have some dinner, and then we will have a quiet glass of wine together, as you call it in England. Joshua Brown followed his new friend down to a small room on the sunk story, meditating very profoundly as he went. It was something that puzzled him greatly. He could not make the two broken ends of Colonel Middleton's story fit at all, and at last he convinced himself that the servant must have made a mistake. He cannot have been long in Colonel Middleton's service, he thought, I will find out how long he has been with him. In pursuance of this resolution Mr. Joshua Brown, after having comforted the inner man with some very soft and savoury veins, and as soon as a glass of not bad wine was placed in his hand, looked across a senior Carlini with a very shrewd expression of countenance, winking his eye over the rich juice of the grape and saying, A very good master yours, Mr. Carlini, I should think. One does not meet with such every day. No, that one doesn't answer Carlini heartily. No one has an easier or a better place than I have. I suppose you've had it a long time, said the peddler, in an inquiring tone. About five years replied Carlini, but I knew him three or four years before that. Mr. Brown, one sees strange changes in this world. When first I saw my present master, he brought into my counting house a draft for twenty thousand dollars, and I paid it as if it had been no sum at all. The next time I saw him, I was a waiter at an inn, and when he paid the bill he gave me a dollar for myself without knowing me again. That is a strange history indeed, said the peddler. How came you to have such a balsa? No, revolution, revolution, replied Carlini, revolution by which poor men think to better their condition, but which always ends in making them the first sufferers. It was the revolution in the new world that ruined me, but as it only brought me down to the same rank from which I rose, and indeed not quite to that, I have no cause to grumble. Mines are very strange history altogether. It must be so indeed, answered Joshua Brown. I should like of all things to hear it. I always like to hear people's histories, Mr. Carlini, not for curiosity's sake only, but because there is always something in them to show us how good God is to all His creatures and to make us contented with our own lot and also to hear a real history from a man's own mouth that is to me, like seeing a picture, especially if there are many ups and downs in it to represent the mountains and the valleys. Well, said Carlini, take another glass of wine and I'll tell you something of it, for it is worth listening to. And so is your master's too, I should think, rejoined Mr. Brown, whose curiosity was directed more towards the history of Colonel Middleton himself than that of his servant. Not half so much as mine, answered Carlini, but his has all been prosperity from beginning to end and mine has been continually changing, as you will see. Carlini's Story The first thing that I remember was running about in the streets of Naples a ragged boy without shoes, stockings, jackets or hat. I suppose I had a father and mother, if I did but know who they were. But of that they took very good care I should never be informed and to tell the truth I have no great curiosity on the subject. My name was universally admitted by all my companions to be Carlo, which in your language means Charles and when I was about eight years old, a much bigger Carlo than myself having joined the band of little vagabonds to which I had been attached from infancy, I acquired the name of Carlini which in your language means little Charles. Till I was nine years old where I slept how I was clothed and what I fed upon were three miracles, not at all less curious than the liquefying of the blood of San Januaryus but at nine years old my first change of fortune took place. The two Carlos in the same troupe could not agree. Carloni thrashed Carlini and Carlini immediately deserted. I remember very well the second day after I had quitted my band standing with a faint heart and a feeling of exceeding solitude before the shop of a barber who I found afterwards had just lost his apprentice by fever. My back was turned to the shop for a little thought that any good would come out of it for me. When suddenly I found something touched me and turning round I saw a basin stretched out through one of the small open panes while the voice of the barber exclaimed here boy run and fill that with fresh water at the fountain. I need not say how gladly I ran and filling the basin I brought it back but to make sure of some reward I did not give it in at the window again but carried it in at once by the door. There I found a stout tall man just shaved to whom the barber with great respect handed the basin of water into which his face and eyes were immediately plunged. Seeing the barber very zealous to show every attention in putting his customer's dress to rights I thought I could do no better than ape his civility by going down upon my knees and brushing the dust of the stranger's shoes with the ragged sleeve of my shirt which certainly was not much more dirty when I had done than when I began. However my attention pleased the stranger and he gave me a piece of copper to the value of a penny. It was the first money I recollect ever having had in my life and I fancied it would have bought half of Naples. The same barber's shop became a sort of treasury to me. For two months I continued to plump myself there before the window either lying on the stones in the sun and pitching little bits of bones to and fro or standing and watching to see if I could be of service. The shaver was a kind old man enough and did not forget me. From time to time he would throw any little job in my way such as holding a gentleman's horse, brushing his shoes or carrying a message and when there was nothing of this kind to be done and I looked very hungry he would give me two or three handfuls of pasta or a lump of bread. He found me active, diligent and faithful and contriving to live principally upon his charity and to save all the little sums which I got. I was at length enabled to purchase some articles of decent dress and appeared at my old post with a much more respectable exterior the old man was delighted not only with the change in my appearance but with the self-command which had furnished me with the means and taking me into his shop he asked me a great number of questions about myself preparatory as it turned out to engaging me in his service he could not have found one whose mind was more open to instruction than mine it was like a bag ready to be filled for there was actually nothing in it I could neither read, write nor calculate I knew no tongue but the jargon of the Lazaroni and I didn't even know my own name which was perhaps no great evil after all well at the end of three days from that time I was fully installed as a barber's boy I learned to shave, to dress hair, to sharpen razors to make perfumes and cosmetics, to bleed and on occasion to draw a tooth all this my master taught me gratis he having my services at the same rate nevertheless he fed me and though neither very delicately nor very abundantly the food was so superior to any I had ever had before that in despite of a lean nature I grew fat the little gratuities I received from time to time furnished the small stock of clothes I wanted and enabled me to get some instruction in matters which did not come within the sphere of my worthy master I taught myself to read, I learned to write I acquired a competent knowledge of arithmetic I picked up a little French amongst the people at the port for a Frenchman thinks that everyone is bound to speak his language and that he is bound to speak none but his own I learned a great deal of Spanish without any difficulty at all and at the end of five or six years I flattered myself that I was a very accomplished barber my old master was now beginning to be stricken in years and much less active than he had been so that at length we divided the work between us he remaining at home to shave and dress those who came to the shop and I going out to the more courtly customers who required attendance at their own houses the business still remained very good and I cannot help flattering myself that I had some share in keeping it up and increasing it my old master seemed so far sensible that this was the case as spontaneously to offer me one fourth of the receipts for which I was most grateful although I had three fourths of the labor I had a sincere affection for the old man but he was the only father I had ever known but he was not destined to remain long with me I was not 19 when the old man died his relations claimed his shop and his implements even to an old worn out shaving brush which would have rubbed the skin off a rhinoceros but the business remained with me I took the shop next door, stocked it and beautified it with the money I had saved and was shaving, powdering and pomatumi from morning till night most unluckily a Spanish grandee who passed the winter in Naples placed his head and chin under the immediate superintendence of Carlo Carline I was soon taken into great favour and as this nobleman was about to return to his own country in the spring he exerted all his eloquence to persuade me that my talents were quite thrown away in the city of Naples Madrid he said Madrid was the only fitting theatre for the display of my genius it was the Elysium of Barbos where I was certain to find myself completely happy he offered even to take me in his own suite deferring all my expenses by the way and he promised that I should shave every friend he had in the world and powder and perfume all his mistresses who were many in an evil hour I yielded off we set from Madrid and very well did my Spanish patron keep his word till we reached that city I fared sumptuously along the road and the system of favouritism being universal in Spain I was considered his highness's favourite and treated accordingly but unfortunately after our arrival in Madrid wars and rumors of wars broke out very soon and the Duke was prevented from carrying out his views in my favour by the strong hand of death which seized him just as I had established myself in the Spanish capital and was obtaining a little of the promised custom my days of prosperity were now at an end my little capital gradually diminished my patience did not increase my stock of smart clothing wore out and six pairs of white silk stockings absolute necessaries to a Spanish barber were reduced to three as the very utmost neatness and cleanliness are required in that country you may easily suppose that my silk stockings made frequent visits to the wash tub and my La Vandera who was the most punctual of women had the strictest injunctions to return that indispensable part of my apparel at a certain hour on the day after she had received them she was, be it remarked, a very pretty woman and had captivated the heart of one of the royal guard who might not unfrequently saw at her house and found him an exceedingly amiable good-humoured young man one morning as my good fortune would have it my silk stockings did not return the preceding day had been rainy and although it does not often rain in Madrid yet when it does there is plenty of mud in the streets a prince and a Duke were waiting to be shaved and after waiting in a state of acute anguish for half an hour I was obliged to sally forth in my dirty stockings I lost two of my best customers but fortune and misfortune are always intimately mingled in the affairs of this life what I thought my ruin was the dawn of my most prosperous day I rushed down to the La Vandera I scolded like a madman about my silk stockings I demanded that she should instantly produce them she could not do so and I accused her of having pawned them thereupon she burst into tears and acknowledged that she had lent them to Manuel G the royal guard who was to appear that day on duty at the Queen's dinner a mysterious hint had been given him by an old lady of the court to dress himself as handsomely as possible intimating that his future success in life might depend very much upon his personal appearance as soon as I learned that they had been lent to G for whom I had a real regard my wrath evaporated let him keep them as long as he likes I said and tell him when my silk stockings have made his fortune I hope he will make mine but in the meantime my good girl though I have only two pairs left you must contrive that I have a clean pair each day the girl afterwards assured me that she had given him my message and that G said he would not forget me but what was my surprise it was not a week after to hear that he had received a lieutenant's commission in his court and then with the most marvellous rapidity came the intelligence of his being a captain colonel, general a grandee of Spain a prince, a prime minister during all this time I heard nothing of him and I concluded here is that person again sir inquiring for the colonel said the inferior waiter particularly a task it wants to attend upon the gentleman's gentleman send him in, send him in sir Carlini stopping in his story you Mr. Brown have to deal with him you know the moment after the door was again opened and Mr. Minji Bows entered his face suddenly assuming a look of extreme surprise on perceiving the person of the peddler before him end of chapter 28