CHAPTER XXXIV.
About a quarter of an hour before the time appointed, Mr. Scriven entered the door of his sister's house in ---- Square. The door was opened by a maid-servant, for Lady Fleetwood always took her own man with her: one of Maria's had also gone with the carriage, and the rest were at Bolton Park. Mr. Scriven was generally as taciturn and dry towards servants as towards associates; but on this occasion, as he was going a little out of his usual track, he thought fit to say--
"I know your mistress is absent; but she desired me to speak with a man who is coming to see her this morning at twelve."
"Yes, sir--I know," replied the maid, with a curtsey; "her ladyship told me before she went away."
"More fool she," thought Mr. Scriven, as the maid opened the door of the dining-room and showed him in; but he judged that a rejoinder was requisite, and therefore he said--
"When the man comes, you will be so good as not to say that your lady is out, but merely ask him to walk straight in here. Are the drawing-room window-shutters open?"
"No, sir; we don't open them when my lady is out of town," said the maid, dropping another curtsey; "but I'll go and do it directly."
"Do so," replied Mr. Scriven. "Have you got the key of the library?"
"No, sir," said the girl, looking towards a door which led into a small apartment behind the dining-room: "perhaps it's open, though my lady generally locks it when she goes away;" and she went forward and tried the door, but it was locked.
"Go and open the shutters," said Mr. Scriven; and sitting down, he looked attentively at his boot, which was exceedingly well polished.
Just as twelve o'clock struck--it might be a minute or two before--two men entered the square, and approached direct towards the house. They did not ring, however, for some minutes; but one of them looked up and passed it. They then paused, and seemed to consult for a minute or two; gazed round the square; looked one way and then another; waited a minute, till two men who were carrying along a large looking-glass, like a dead man on a stretcher, had got to some distance; and then, turning back, they knocked and rang at the street door.
In answer to their inquiry for Lady Fleetwood, the maid said--
"Pray walk in. Her ladyship expected you, I think."
"Yes, yes," replied the taller man, who looked upon this announcement of the lady's punctuality to her appointment as a very favourable indication. "Yes, yes, she expects us;" and he strode into the hall, followed by Mr. Mingy Bowes.
The maid shut the door, and then led the way to the dining-room; but much was the surprise, and not a little the consternation, of the two worthy personages, when, instead of a respectable old lady with a very delicate complexion and a fine lace cap, they saw the tall, thin, gentlemanly person of Mr. Scriven standing exactly before them, and looking straight in their faces. They both paused for an instant, as if not well knowing whether to turn tail and run away or not; but Mr. Scriven decided the matter by saying--
"Come in, gentlemen. Lady Fleetwood was obliged to go out of town, and she therefore begged me to confer with you upon the business which one of you mentioned to her a day or two ago. I am a relation, as much interested in the matter as herself, and perhaps more. Pray be seated."
The maid shut the door, and the two men sat down, Mingy Bowes on the very edge of his chair, his body inclined forward at an angle of forty-five, his hands upon his knees; and his huge companion, Sam, casting himself at once into a seat, throwing his long arm over the back of his chair, and gazing upwards round the cornice, as if he were a plasterer or an architect. Both kept silence.
"Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Scriven, who had also seated himself, "will you be good enough to explain your business?"
"Why, as to that," said Sam, in his usual rude and abrupt manner, "I thought you knew d--d well what my business is. Didn't you tell the old girl, Mingy?"
"Yes, I told her exactly what you said," replied Mingy Bowes.
"Well, didn't she tell you?" asked Sam, addressing Mr. Scriven.
"She gave some explanations," replied that gentleman; "but you know ladies' heads are not very clear, and therefore I would rather hear the whole particulars from yourself. She said you had got a pocket-book, which contained papers affecting the honour, and perhaps the life, of a gentleman who may probably be closely connected with my family."
"Ay, that's it," cried Sam; "and I told him to tell her that if she liked to come down handsome I'd say nothing about it; but if she didn't, I'd go and blow the whole to Scriven and Co. Those are the people whose names were forged."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Scriven, in his usual calm and deliberate tone: "well, the matter is worthy of some consideration."
"Devilish little time will I give for consideration," replied the brute. "I'll have the money down this very day, and a promise of it before I go, or else I'll be off to Scriven and Co. at once."
"Well, well," answered Mr. Scriven, "don't be impatient. I have no doubt we shall come to terms of some sort before we part. As a man of business, however, I must know what you can prove and what you cannot, before I agree to anything."
"There, you fool!" whispered Mingy Bowes, in a low tone; "I told you what you would do when you threw the pocket-book into the fire."
"You're the fool," answered Sam, fiercely; "and a d--d fool too!" And then, turning to Mr. Scriven, he added, "What you say is all fair--two sides to every bargain. So I'll tell you what I can prove, and then you can let me prove it or not. I can prove that a man going about here, calling himself Colonel Middleton, is the very same man who ten years ago went by the name of Henry Hayley, and that he was then accused of committing a forgery upon Scriven and Co. Now, I said the papers in the book would either hang or save him; for in it was jotted down his own account of the whole matter, showing that this Colonel Middleton is just the same man; and that, if he had not run away as he did, he would have been tried for the forgery, and been hanged for it too, perhaps, had it not been for another paper that was in the book."
"Pray, what was that?" asked Mr. Scriven.
"Why, a paper in a different hand," replied the man, "written by the young man's father, who calls himself Stephen Hayley, I think, and says that he himself committed the forgery, and got the young man to take the bill to the bankers' to be changed, without his knowing that it was forged. It's a long story; but then he goes on to say that he persuaded the young man to run away and take the blame, to save his father's life; and that he gives him that paper to show his innocence, in case he's caught."
Mr. Scriven mused for a moment or two with a frowning brow. For once in his life, the first impression was a right one; and had he acted upon it, he would have done justly and wisely.
There was so much probability in the story that he felt a difficulty in disbelieving it, though he might wish to do so, and a repugnance to pursuing plans incompatible with that belief; but, as he paused and thought, selfishness mastered conscience; the wishes grew more strong, and overpowered belief.
"That paper must be a fabrication," he said, aloud; and then, addressing the man more directly, he added, "Have you got it? Let me see it. I will return it to you again, upon my honour."
"Why, no--I haven't got it," replied Sam. "I burned it: I threw it, and the pocket-book too, into the fire, because I thought the d--d fellow they sent wanted to nab me."
"Then, how do you dare to come here," asked Mr. Scriven, "when you've nothing to show as proof of your story?"
"Come, come--none of that," exclaimed the man, looking at him fiercely. "I've got enough to show that this Henry Hayley and Colonel Middleton are the same man. I didn't burn them in the pocket-book. I was resolved to keep some hold on him; so I took them out first, while Mingy was gone into the shop for the man he sent. So, if, without any more palaver, you don't strike a bargain, and tell me what you or he will give, I shall be off to Scriven and Co. directly, and let them know all about it. He may then prove his innocence or let it alone; but he'll find that a devilish difficult matter, now the other paper's burned to a cinder in Mingy's grate."
"Can you show me those papers you have got?" said Mr. Scriven, in a much more placable tone.
"Here they are," replied the man, taking a little roll from his pocket; "but, unless I get a thousand pounds for them, I won't show them to any one till I show them to Scriven and Co."
"Well, then, show them to me," replied the gentleman. "My name is Scriven, and I am the person whose name was forged."
The fellow gazed in his face with a look of horror and consternation, and demanded, with a terrible imprecation--
"Then are you Scriven and Co.?"
"I am the head of that house," replied Mr. Scriven, "and the 'Co.' has long ceased to exist."
"Well, then, you have done me in a d--d unhandsome manner," said the man, "and I should like to twist your neck about for your pains."
"I have done no such thing," answered Mr. Scriven. "I told you that I am Lady Fleetwood's relation, which is true, and that I am here to act for her, which is true also. Moreover, if you will listen to me for a moment, you will see that, although you will not get a thousand pounds from me upon any pretence whatever, you may make a reasonable profit by this business notwithstanding. First, understand that I do not care one pin whether this Henry Hayley, alias Middleton, be hanged or not, except merely for the sake of justice. He showed himself exceedingly ungrateful to me, and forged my name for a large sum; for that paper, pretending to be his father's confession, is all a fabrication--but I did not lose anything. It was the bankers who lost, and they offered a reward of two hundred pounds for his apprehension, which offer is still in force. I offered the same sum; perhaps it was foolish to do so, for in truth I had nothing to do with it, but still I will not go back from my word; and if you will follow out exactly what I tell you, I may add a hundred pounds more, in order to open my niece's eyes, and save her from the snare that this man has laid for her. That will make five hundred pounds, which is all you will get. Will you do it or not?"
"What do you say, Mingy?" said the one scoundrel, turning to the other.
"Here, Sam--let me talk with you a bit," said Mingy Bowes, walking towards the window. The other followed him, and for nearly ten minutes they conferred together, very eagerly and in a low tone, while Mr. Scriven coolly took some tablets from his pockets, and amused himself with making notes and adding up sums. At length they returned again to the table, and Sam began to speak; but Mr. Scriven waved his hand for silence, and went on with his calculations, saying--
"Five and two are seven, and nine are sixteen, and six are twenty-two, and seven are twenty-nine. Nine, and carry two.--Now, what is it?"
"Why, you see, sir," said Sam, in a very deferential tone, greatly impressed with the merchant's coolness, "I'm afraid I can't."
"Why not?" demanded Mr. Scriven.
"Because, sir, I suppose you'd want me to give evidence," said Sam, "and that might be rather ticklish for me. I don't want to put my own neck into a noose, nor to take a swim in a ship at the expense of government."
Mr. Scriven thought for a moment or two.
"I understand you," he said at last. "In fact, you knocked the young man down and took the pocket-book and other things from him. He mentioned the fact. Did he see you?"
"No, that he didn't," replied Sam, promptly; "and he can't prove that I had any other things but the book."
"Then it seems to me the matter's very easy," said Mr. Scriven. "Let us be frank with each other, my good friend. The case stands thus:--You got the pocket-book, and he can prove it; so you won't help yourself a bit by holding back that fact, for the officers are after you by this time, depend upon it. Now, by coming forward and first proving a crime against him, you help yourself very much; for if he's convicted of felony first, he can't give evidence against you, and he would have to prove that he was robbed of the pocket-book before he could punish you for taking it."
"The only thing to do is, to get up a good story as to how you came to have the book," said Mingy Bowes. "Can't you say you found it upon the common that same night?"
"I dare say you've put away all the other things by this time," said Mr. Scriven.
"Ay, they are safe enough," answered Sam.
"Well, then, your having nothing else but the pocket-book, which would be valueless to any who did not examine the papers, will corroborate your story," observed Mr. Scriven; "for people may naturally conclude that those who took the things threw away the pocket-book on the common when they found there was no money in it."
Sam looked at Mingy Bowes, and Mingy nodded his head approvingly, saying--
"That'll do, I think, Sam."
"The only way of saving yourself and getting the money," said Mr. Scriven, "is to go at the thing boldly. The very fact of your making the charge will be a presumption in your favour. People will all say, of course, that you would not have ventured to do so if you had taken the thing unlawfully, and I will do what I can to help you, you may depend upon it; but remember, you must act according to my directions, and I will answer for it that no harm shall happen to you."
"Hang it, sir!" said the man, "one so often hears it said, 'No harm shall happen to you,' and then a great deal does, that I am half afraid."
"What else have you to propose?" asked Mr. Scriven, in his driest tone. "If you reject good counsel, you must have some scheme or plan already formed. I know not what it is, but think it somewhat more than dangerous, whatever it may be; for I can see no way of extricating yourself but that which has been named."
"Lord bless you! I've no scheme, sir," said the man, who, to say the truth, was a good deal bewildered by the new point of view in which the question had been placed before him. "What do you say, Mingy?"
Mingy Bowes shook his head doubtfully, without venturing a reply; and Mr. Scriven, seeing clearly that the unexpected discovery of his name, together with the disclosure of all their secrets, had, as it were, left the men no choice but to follow his plan or to fly, thought he might as well throw in the last inducement--as he would have done, in selling one or two thousand bales of goods, by giving a bale or two over and above the bargain.
"You will remember, sir," he said, addressing Mingy, "that in advising your friend, I myself have no choice in this matter. If he enables me to break off the match between this man and my niece by coming frankly forward, it will, of course, be a duty and a pleasure for me to help him to the utmost of my ability; but if, on the contrary, he holds back, I must take part with Colonel Middleton, and must do what I can to prove my niece's husband worthy of her affection."
"That's to say, you'd hang me if you could," replied Sam.
"Undoubtedly," answered Mr. Scriven, in his usual dry manner.
"Well, that's hard," said the man; "but you seem to have got me in a cleft stick, and so I suppose I must do what you please."
"Ay, that's right," replied Mr. Scriven. "I tell you conscientiously, and upon my honour, that I think it the only way to save yourself; and then you get five hundred pounds into the bargain, you know."
"I'll do it, or I'll be hanged!" said the man, warming enthusiastically at the thought of the money. "They can but give me what they call a life-interest in the colony, and I don't much care for that. Come, it's a bargain. I'll help you to fix the young man so that the beaks can't have the least doubt in the world that he is the chap; and whenever he's fixed, I'm to have the five hundred."
"There's the offer of a reward by Messrs. Stolterforth and Co. the bankers who cashed the bill," said Mr. Scriven; "so you see that it will be necessary to do what we propose, as soon as possible. Now let me see the papers, because there can be no use in concealing them."
"There they are," replied Sam. "Look you here. He has been careful enough; but he says in this one, which looks like a sort of day-book, that he determined at a certain time to go back to England, under the assumed name of Colonel Middleton."
Mr. Scriven looked over the papers carefully, and as great an expression of satisfaction appeared upon his countenance as he ever suffered to take possession of his usually inanimate features.
"That's all right," he said, turning one down: "now, if there's nothing to upset the scheme, you'll get your five hundred pounds to a certainty; and though that is not a thousand, it is better than nothing."
"A devil of a deal," said the man, delighted with the notion of the money; "but you haven't looked at the one next to it. It's got something in it too. That is something. But I think now, Mingy, as this is settled, we had better pack up our tools and be off."
"No, no, stay," said the other; "there are two or three things more to be settled. You must come to me at six o'clock this evening, when we can finally arrange all our plans; and, if you take my advice, you will not go to any coffee-shop, nor to any of your usual haunts; for depend upon it this Colonel Middleton, as he is called, has set many a trap for you."
"I don't think he dare," said the man, "being quite sure I know such a deal about him."
"Oh, he'll try to have the first word as well as you," replied Mr. Scriven; "but we must prevent him. He is gone down to Northumberland for a day or two, perhaps to keep out of the way rather than anything else; and the best plan for us to follow will be to go after him at once, pounce upon him in the country, give him in charge, and if possible get the country magistrates, who know nothing about him, to commit him. You come to me at six, as I have said, and in the mean time I will go away to the police-office, and get the notes of the former proceedings. Now, good-bye for the present; but do not think that you can bolt and leave me in the lurch, by going away out of town or out of England; for I shall have one or two sharp hands looking after you, and depend upon it, wherever you went they would find you out."
"Oh, I shan't bolt," replied Sam. "You have got me under the pitchfork, and must do what you like. I'll be at your house by six, if you tell me where it is."
"Willingly," answered Mr. Scriven, writing the name of the street and the number of the house down in pencil. "You'll find me there at six o'clock precisely; but remember, I'm very punctual, and I do not wait for any one."
"I'll be there to the minute," answered the man, "for I've nothing else to do; but I suppose I come upon honour, and that nobody will try to stop me from coming away again."
"Neither by any fault nor any indiscretion of mine," answered Mr. Scriven; "but you must take care in the mean time for fear they should shut you up. If you and I can set off to Northumberland at once, while the iron is hot, you will be out of the way yourself, and we shall take this lad quite unprepared, and have him before a justice ere he knows what he's doing. It must depend upon circumstances, however--I mean, from what I see in the city. If all's right, and if I can go away, we will set out this very night or to-morrow morning."
"That's all right, sir; that's all right," said Sam. "I'll be there to the minute; and now I suppose we had better go away, for I see you've got your hat in your hand, and I suppose your time's short."
"Very, considering all I have to do," replied Mr. Scriven; "and as I know this matter is important, the sooner it is got through the better."
"Certainly, sir, certainly," answered Sam; "you shan't wait for me. So, good morning to you."
Mr. Scriven did not half like to let him go, but there was no help for it. He had once thought of giving him in charge to a constable; but that, he saw, might spoil all his plans, and he abandoned the idea directly. There were no securities to be taken of such a man except his fears or his interests; and both of these, Mr. Scriven imagined, he had to a certain degree enlisted on his side. Nevertheless, when he saw him depart, he felt a good many unpleasant doubts as to whether he should ever see his face again, unless at the bar of some police-court.