CHAPTER LXV.
An Interview with a Secretary of State.—Sir Francis Hartleton’s Difficulties.
In order to explain the cause of the singular interruption which occurred to the festive scene at the Chequers, we must glance at the proceedings of Sir Francis Hartleton for the preceding two days.
We have before hinted at the very awkward position in which Sir Francis Hartleton was placed as a magistrate, having suspicions of the very strongest mature for suspecting some foul crime on the parts of Learmont, Andrew Britton, and the man Gray, of whose existence and identification with the third in the iniquitous proceeding he had only lately had good reason to believe, and yet such suspicions not assuming a sufficiently tangible form to enable him to found a charge upon him.
At the same time, working as he was in the dark in trying to unravel a plot the intricacies of which seemed to him to increase instead of diminish as he dived into it, he never knew but what some false step of his—some effort of over-zeal might put the guilty parties not only on their guard of him particularly, but might set them to work to take more effectual steps than they had hitherto done for the suppression of every particle of tangible evidence against them, but might likewise induce deeper and blacker crimes than any they had yet attempted or committed for the preservation of secrets essential to their existence.
Thus it was that although Sir Francis Hartleton had a strong perception of the main facts of the case he had in hand as regarded the guilt of Learmont, yet he felt that he could not be too cautious in what he said or did consequent thereon, until some circumstance should arise to give a direct clue to such a chain of evidence as should enable him at once to pounce upon them all, and insure their condemnation on irrefragible proofs.
After his first interview with Albert Seyton, he had carefully made a narrative of all the circumstances connected with the affair, and as it will be recollected that by that interview, he was enabled to place together the names of Gray, Britton, and Learmont, in such a manner as to be certain that they were then, or had been, engaged in some great act of villany together, he was in a much better situation for arriving at a correct conclusion with regard to the various circumstances that came crowding upon his recollection.
That some crime, most probably a murder, had been committed so many years ago when he, a young man, having more passion and impetuosity than discretion, resided in the village of Learmont on the night of the fire at the Old Smithy, he never entertained a doubt, and the probability that had he been a private individual and not an open enemy as it were of Learmont’s, he would have made some effort of perhaps a hazardous and illegal nature to obtain satisfaction on the affair.
Sir Francis, however, was one of those who felt deeply the responsibilities of the situation in which he was placed as one of the ministers of justice, and he would have considered himself as quite unfit for so onerous an office had he acted from impulse instead of reflection in the prosecution of evil-doers. Thus, although ferretting the while, he waited until something should occur to point him a clear and consistent path in the investigation.
His own suspicions were simply these. That Learmont had, by the assistance of the savage smith and the man who had rushed from the burning house with the child, committed some great crime for the sake either of stilling for ever some evidence of preceding criminality, or for some then present gains or pecuniary advantage, and hence Andrew Britton’s constant visits to Learmont were for probable claims upon his purse.
That Jacob Gray was the man who had so rushed from the burning smithy, and that Ada was the child he had in his arms, Sir Francis, after what was related to him by Albert Seyton, felt almost assured of, and that both Gray and Britton were now preying upon Learmont, he felt convinced.
All this, however, did not amount to much, and although greatly strengthening his own previous suspicions of foul play somewhere, afforded him no information as a magistrate. He could make no specific charge against Learmont. He had nothing to say to Britton, and Gray he had never been able to catch hold of, or he would have made an attempt to possess himself of the papers addressed to him, which he thought more than probably contained ample information.
He was likewise moved strongly by the picture Albert Seyton had drawn of the persecutions endured by Ada, and setting apart all other considerations, he was most anxious to rescue her from the ills by which she was surrounded.
Thus he wanted to discover two things principally. The one was what crime had been committed at the Old Smithy; and the other was, presuming Ada to be the child seen on that memorable occasion—who was she?
To neither of these questions could he give himself a rational answer, and he was therefore forced to endeavour to comfort himself in the affair by setting a watch over Britton, another on Learmont, and making what exertions he could himself to ferret out the abode of Jacob Gray, without exciting the suspicions of Learmont.
Several times the thought of an active search in the ruins of the Old Smithy at Learmont had suggested itself to his mind, but had been rejected upon the conviction that such a proceeding would be very public, and could not be undertaken by him as a magistrate, without some valid previous excuse.
On the day, however, that he considered himself so fortunate as to have unearthed Jacob Gray, and to have him all but in his grasp, Sir Francis Hartleton resolved to bring affairs to some sort of crisis, and adopt reluctantly the only plan that presented itself to him, of securing the safety of Ada and the punishment of two out of three criminals, and that was to arrest Britton on that day, and, confronting him with Gray, induce a clear confession from one or the other of them, under a promise of relief from capital punishment.
He, acting upon this feeling, procured ample assistance, and previous to starting for Gray’s house in the marshes of Battersea, he instructed one of his experienced officers to make sure of the rapture of Britton before night.
His disappointment at Forest’s house we are aware of, and immediately upon his return, he was careful to countermand the order for Britton’s arrest. This countermand, however, was given to an officer who was seriously hurt in a common street affray before he could communicate his message to him who had the particular charge to capture the smith. Hence it arose that Sir Francis Hartleton was not aware that measures were taking to apprehend Britton, until it was almost too late to prevent it. He, nevertheless, made the attempt, and was as we have seen, just in time personally to stop the arrest, for it was he himself who cried “No!” in the parlour of the Chequers, being this time effectually disguised from the observation of Britton.
Sir Francis then immediately returned to his own house, where he had not long been, when he heard rapidly, one after the other, of the two astounding events of the fire at the lone house by Battersea, and the denunciation of a man, by a young and beautiful girl, near Charing Cross, as a murderer.
The thought immediately flashed across his mind that this man must be Jacob Gray, and his accuser the persecuted Ada. A very short time, as we are aware, convinced him that his suspicions were well-founded, and his main cause of anxiety being removed, he now resolved to lend all his energies to discover who Ada was, and bring home the crimes of Learmont and his associates to them.
The whole affair had now assumed so new and troublesome an aspect, that Sir Francis Hartleton thought it necessary to apply to the Secretary of State for sanction to the proceedings he might wish to adopt.
His wish was that the pursuit after Jacob Gray might not be active, but that he should be rather left alone for a time, under a strict surveillance, to see what he would do, and how far he might commit his associates by visits and communication with them. He likewise wished the case of Andrew Britton to be entirely left in his hands, for the violent proceedings of the savage smith had begun to excite the attention of others of the local authorities, and he, Sir Francis Hartleton, was fearful that some imprudent step might be taken by some other magistrate concerning Britton and his mysterious wealth, which might alarm Learmont before he wished him to be at all alarmed.
With these views and feelings, Sir Francis Hartleton repaired to the Secretary of State, with whom he had an immediate interview, and to whom he carefully detailed all the circumstances which were within his knowledge, concerning Ada and her fortunes, from the night of the fire at the Old Smithy at Learmont, to the time when she had taken refuge at his house, concluding by saying,—
“Sir, I have, from a record of all the circumstances, the strongest reason to believe that this young girl is the same, who, when an infant, was carried from the burning ruins by the blood-stained shrieking man, but still I have no proof; I believe that Jacob Gray is that man, but still I have no proof; I believe that a murder was committed that night at the smithy, but still I have no proof; and moreover, by Gray’s subsequent crimes, we are now entirely cut off from offering him any merciful consideration for a full and free confession of the whole of the circumstances, and Britton, I fear, is not the man to confess at all; if he were, he is most probably awfully and deeply implicated. Therefore, what I wish of you, sir, is authority to stop proceedings against Gray, for the present, and to leave him at large until I procure some more tangible information concerning all these mysteries, always promising that I can arrest him at any time I please.”
“Upon my word,” said the secretary, scratching his chin, “it’s a very disagreeable and awkward affair. This Learmont has promised us no less than seven votes in the Commons.”
“Has he, sir?”
“Yes, and you see—really seven votes—are—are—in point of fact, seven votes.”
“He procures them of course by nominating members of his properties?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then, sir, should all that property be wrested from him by a conviction for felony, those votes and qualifications must revert to the crown.”
“Upon my word that’s true; I dare say he’s a very great rogue; don’t make a disturbance for nothing, Sir Francis, but you can take the authority you require. Of course, the votes are more useful to us in our hands than coming through his; but the family may not be extinct.”
“Still, sir, we cannot smother this affair; justice must be done.”
“Of course, I know all that; the majesty of justice must be upheld; only, you see, seven votes are something, and I only mentioned how awkward it is—I may say confoundedly awkward—for we have scarcely a majority: but, however, you may take your authority, Sir Francis.”