CHAPTER XXIV,
Now, the very same character might be given of Mr. Peter Tims of Clement's Inn, attorney-at-law, as that which Voltaire, in his _Discours à l'Academie_, gives of the President de Montesquieu--"C'etoit un génie mâle et rapide qui approfondit tout en paraissant tout effleurer;" and in several of his late conversations with Lord Ashborough, he had penetrated into the depths of that nobleman's thoughts and feelings, while he seemed to give implicit credit to his lightest words, He saw, therefore, that there were two strong principles which worked the whole machine; the chief springs, as it were, of all his lordship's conduct, at least on the present occasion. The one of these principles was, it is true, a little stronger than the other; and the two were, revenge and avarice; the latter succumbing somewhat to the former, but both at present working very well together.
There are certain classes of passions and vices which people often find an excuse for indulging, by persuading themselves that they are invariably connected with some great or noble feeling or other. Now, of this character is revenge, which men are apt to fancy must be the offspring of a generous and vehement heart, and a fine, determined, sensitive mind. But this is all a mistake. Revenge, in the abstract, is merely a prolongation throughout a greater space in time, of that base selfishness which leads us to feel a momentary impulse to strike any thing that hurts or pains us either mentally or corporeally; and the more brutal, and animal and beast-like be the character of the person, the greater will be his disposition to revenge. But we must speak one moment upon its modifications. Revenge always proceeds either from a sense of real injury, or a feeling of wounded vanity. It seldom, however, arises from any real injury; and where it does, it would (if possible to justify it at all), be more justifiable; but, in this modification, a corrective is often found in the great mover of man's heart; and vanity itself whispers, it will seem nobler and more generous to forgive. The more ordinary species of revenge, however, and the more filthy, is that which proceeds from wounded vanity--when our pride or our conceit has been greatly hurt--not alone in the eyes of the world, but in our own eyes--when the little internal idol that we have set up to worship in our own hearts, has been pulled down from the throne of our idolatry, and we have been painfully shown that it is nothing but a thing of gilt wood. Then, indeed, revenge, supported by the great mover of man's heart, instead of being corrected by it, is insatiable and everlasting. But in all cases, instead of being connected with any great quality, it is the fruit of a narrow mind, and a vain, selfish heart.
The latter of the two modifications was that which affected Lord Ashborough, and it had remained with him through life; but Mr. Tims very evidently saw, that as soon as his lordship imagined his revenge to have nothing left to feed upon, it of course became extinct; and that his own employment, at least, in any very extensive business, as far as Lord Ashborough was concerned, would be at an end. The avarice, too, would come into play; and the worthy lawyer perceived that it was necessary to keep alive his appetite for vengeance, and at the same time to take care that his admirable patron's avarice should be broken in to run in harness with his own.
These were his motives for suggesting the course of proceeding which he had insinuated might be pursued, although he felt very doubtful as to the legal possibility of carrying on the matter exactly as prosperously as he had taught his patron to believe. At all events, he felt that this was his best chance, not only of keeping possession of the money he had already got, but of obtaining the twelve thousand pounds more, which, together with the rest of his uncle's property, he felt would raise him to a station in society in which he might--not pause--but make more still.
After satisfying the cravings of hunger, therefore, and thinking that the time might soon come when the earl himself would find it necessary to treat him with more attention, Mr. Tims got into his chaise, humming the chorus of the Little Ploughboy--
"So great a man--so great a man--so great a man I'll be!"
And once more rolled away toward Emberton, resolved instantly to see Sir Sidney Delaware, and embroil the whole affair as much as possible.
His clerk had been left behind at the little town to take care of the business during his absence; and although it was late ere the lawyer returned, he instantly set him to work to prepare notices to all the tenants of Sir Sidney Delaware not to pay their rents. This he knew was a bold stroke; but looking upon the unhappy baronet as an enemy in time of war, he knew that one great object was to cut off his supplies. Early the next morning Mr. Tims sallied forth to make a general round of the tenants, and proceeded to a farmhouse, from the crowded stackyard and busy aspect of which he argued a large and prosperous farm. The farmer himself appeared superintending the thatching in the yard; and Mr. Tims, notice in hand, stepped up to him, and informed him of his business.
As the honest man read, his mouth expanded wide across his rosy face, with a grin of satisfaction, which Mr. Tims remarked as something extraordinary, at least. "Sorry, sir, I can't oblige you!" said the farmer, eyeing him with a look of merry contempt; "I paid my rent to Sir Sidney yesterday morning. I thought just now--as he is in trouble I hear with some bit of a blackguard lawyer of the name of Tims--he might want the money, you know. So I took it up to the good lady's house where he is stopping, seeing it was due on the twenty-fifth o' last month."
"Oh, you have paid it, have you?" said Mr. Tims. "Then, I can tell you, most likely you will have it to pay over again."
"Pay it over again!" cried the farmer, who easily divined who the person was that spoke to him. "Pay it over again! Come, come, none of your gammon, master, or I'll break your head for you, and that is all the payment you'll get from me. Who should I pay my rent to but my own landlord I add a good landlord he has always been, and a kind--never racked us up to the last farthing, like some o' them, though he wanted the money enough himself. I'll tell you what, you had better not say a word against him or his--and if you be one of Lawyer Tims's clerks, bid him not show his face among us here, or he'll get such a licking as will serve him for a long while."
While this conversation was proceeding between Mr. Peter Tims and the farmer, a considerable number of the farm-servants had gathered round their master, and very unequivocal signs and symptom were given as to their sense of the matter. Various words, too, were heard, which sounded harsh upon the tympanum of Peter Tims's ear, such as--"I shouldn't wonder if it were Lawyer Tims himself--A looks like a lawyer--let's duck um in the horsepond--or cart him into the muck."
Now Peter Tims was, in a certain degree, a coward; and although he could have made up his mind to be knocked down by the farmer for the sake of a good assault case, yet the idea of being "ducked in the horsepond, or carted into the muck," by a body of persons who could not afford to pay a sous for their morning's amusement, made him beat a retreat as fast as possible.
Although Mr. Peter Tims proceeded _seriatim_ to each of the tenants on the Emberton estate, it may be unnecessary to detail the particulars of the various receptions he met with. Suffice it, that he found that in one respect they all agreed, which was, that their rent, by a general arrangement between them, had been paid up the day before, which, though the money was really due, was about ten days before the usual time. Although he occasionally met with a somewhat rough reception, and declared that he had never seen a more rude and uncivil set of people in his life, yet he escaped without any actual violence; and in the end, hoping to gain at least some ground, he determined to make his last visit to Sir Sidney Delaware himself.
Accustomed to do disagreeable things of all kinds, Mr. Tims had as little respect for human feelings as most men; but still there was something in his peculiar situation with regard to Sir Sidney Delaware that in some degree awed even his worldly heart. He was going to force himself into the presence of a man, whose destruction he was pursuing eagerly, on the most base and sordid motives. That, however, was nothing new; but we must recollect that Mr. Tims really supposed the son of him he was about to visit had murdered in cold blood his last relation; and, with that belief there mingled both the internal conviction that his own arts had driven the unfortunate young man to commit the horrid deed which had been perpetrated at Ryebury, and the remembrance that he himself, Peter Tims, was even then straining every nerve to bring to an ignominious death him whom his machinations had hurried into the most fearful of human crimes, and whose father he was still urging onward to ruin and despair. All these feelings and remembrances made the business very different from any he had before undertaken, and the lawyer's heart even fluttered as the chaise drove through the gates of the dwelling now occupied by Mrs. Darlington. "It is odd enough," he thought, "that my delaying the payment of the money should have caused my uncle's murder. Now, if I were superstitious, I should take fright and not follow this business up, for fear it should turn out ill likewise--but that is all nonsense;" and when the chaise stopped, and a servant appeared, he boldly demanded to speak with Sir Sidney Delaware.
"Sir Sidney Delaware is not here, sir," replied the man, abruptly.
"Not here!" cried Mr. Tims. "Not here! And pray, where is he, then?"
"Can't tell, sir!" replied the man.
"But he was here?" rejoined the lawyer. "Oh, yes, sir, he was here," was the reply.
"When did he go?"
"Yesterday."
"Where to?"
"I don't know."
"Is your mistress at home!" demanded Mr. Tims, at length, finding that there was nothing to be made of the footman. The answer was in the affirmative; and Mr. Peter Tims was shown into an empty room, where the servant took the precaution of demanding his name, and then went to inform his mistress. After remaining for some time in expectation, Mr. Tims was rejoined by the servant; but, instead of ushering the lawyer to Mrs. Darlington's presence, he said, with a grave and solemn aspect, "Sir, my mistress bids me inform you that she is busy at present, and can not receive you."
"Oh, if she is busy, I can wait!" answered Mr. Tims, relapsing determinedly into his chair.
"You may wait all day for that matter," replied the man, losing patience; "for I can tell you she does not intend to see you at all. So now you have the plain English of it!"
"Very extraordinary conduct, I must say!" observed Mr. Tims, as with slow and indignant steps he walked toward his chaise.
"And pray, are you really ignorant of Sir Sidney Delaware's present abode?" he added, after having insinuated his hand into his pocket, and drawn forth a broad silver piece, which he thought fully sufficient to tempt the discretion of any Johnny, even if he were as immaculate as Eve before the fall.
But the servant either would not tell, or could not, because he did not know: the latter of which was the most probable, as he answered sharply, as if angry at losing the money through his ignorance, "You have had your answer once, sir," he said, "and I shall give you no other;" and with this ungracious reply, Mr. Tims was obliged to content himself.
The chaise rolled him back hungry and dissatisfied to Emberton, where the tidings he had so often before received, that the pursuit of Captain Delaware had not advanced a single step, did not tend to relieve him. He found, too, that Sir Sidney and Miss Delaware had certainly not returned to their own dwelling, and his inquiry in regard to whither they had gone when they left Mrs. Darlington's, only served to make the people of the town open wide their nostrils, showing plainly that the baronet's departure must have been secret indeed, as it had escaped the all-inquiring eyes and ears of that gossiping community.
If any thing could have soothed the mind of Mr. Tims, it would have been, perhaps, the profound respect of the landlord of the King's Arms--he, Mr. Tims, being in no degree insensible to the charms of importance and high station, and enjoying the homage of mine host as a sort of foretaste of the increased consequence he was to possess in society, from his accession to his unfortunate uncle's ill-gotten wealth.
His dinner comforted him also greatly; and when, after that meal was discussed, the landlord presented himself in person to ask whether he might not recommend his admirable port, Mr. Tims, after an internal struggle, acquiesced, and the wine was accordingly produced.
"Pray, landlord," said the lawyer, after a few words of innkeeper gossip had passed, while with a clean napkin he rubbed the outside of the decanter; "pray who was that gentleman standing at the door as I got out, who stared at me so hard? The gentleman in the black coat and gray trowsers."
"Oh, sir!" replied mine host of the King's Arms, "don't you know? That is Mr. Cousins, the officer from London, come to inquire into this sad business!"
"Why, Ruthven was sent for, and came, too; for I saw and spoke to him long!" ejaculated Mr. Tims, in some surprise.
"True, sir! True!" replied the landlord. "But Ruthven was sent after the captain, you know; and Dr. Wilton thought it would be better to have some one else down to keep about the place; so Cousins was sent for, and has been here all day--that is to say, about the place; for he was both up at Emberton and at Ryebury, I heard the waiter saying."
"At Emberton!" cried Mr. Tims. "Then, I dare say, he can tell me something of the people there. Will you have the goodness to present my compliments to him, and say, I should be happy if he will take a glass of wine with me?"
"Certainly, sir! Certainly!" replied the landlord; and away he went in embassage to Cousins, who soon after was ushered into the private apartment occupied by Peter Tims, Esq.
He was--or rather is--neither a very tall, nor a very stout man; but yet, in the various points of his frame, there is a good deal of solid strength to be remarked; and in his face, which is pale, and somewhat saturnine, Mr. Tims thought he could trace a great deal of resolution, mingled with that shrewd knowledge of human nature in its most debased form, which is at once necessary to, and inseparable from, the character of an officer of police. The lawyer, seeing that the officer was a very gentlemanly person in his appearance, soon made sufficient advances; and, being seated together over their wine, Mr. Tims inquired whether his companion had heard any thing of the family at Emberton.
"No, no," he said, in a tone which appeared habitually guarded against all inquiries, except from those authorized to squeeze the contents out of the sponge of his mind. "No, no," he said--"I have heard nothing of them at all."
"Come, come, now, Mr. Cousins!" said the lawyer, who well entered into the spirit of the wariness displayed by his companion; "you know I am interested in this business!"
"Yes--so I hear, sir," replied Cousins, without a word more.
"Well, well, then, be a little more communicative, Mr. Cousins," rejoined the lawyer. "Did you see any of the family at the Park?"
"No," answered the officer; "they were all away!"
"But did not the old woman--the housekeeper--or cook--or something--tell you where they had gone to!" demanded the lawyer.
"There was no old housekeeper there," answered the officer. "They were all away together, and the house shut up."
Mr. Tims was beaten out of his impassibility, and absolutely stared. "But surely you know where they are gone to--or, at least, you guess?" he said, after a pause.
"Why, I may guess, to be sure," replied Cousins; "but that is nothing to nobody, you know. If one were to tell every thing they guess, sir, not one-half of their guesses would come true!"
Mr. Tims paused for a minute or two, seeing that, for some reason, Cousins was resolute in not saying a word upon the affairs of Sir Sidney Delaware; and, therefore, like a good tactician, finding the enemy's position impregnable in front, he determined to shift his ground, and make an attack from another quarter. "You have been, I hear, at my poor, unhappy uncle's place at Ryebury, too?" said Mr. Tims, at length. "Did you make any new discoveries? Fill your glass, Mr. Cousins."
"None that I know of, sir," replied Cousins, answering the question, and obeying the command at the same time. "The house was just as it was left, I fancy."
"But did you find nothing that might lead to the detection of the murderer?" said Mr. Tims.
"Why, sir, I understood that you had detected the murderer yourself," answered the officer; "and that his name was Captain William Delaware."
"Yes, yes! that is all true enough," rejoined the lawyer; "but I mean, did you find no new proof against him."
"Why, as to that, sir, I did not find any in particular," replied Cousins. "Indeed, the only thing of which I found any positive proof at all, was that somebody had been murdered."
"The man is a fool!" thought Mr. Peter Tims--"a natural!" But yet there was a small, twinkling, subdued sort of fun lurking about the corners of Cousins's dark eyes, that caused the lawyer strongly to suspect that the officer was making a jest of him, and he consequently found himself waxing vastly indignant. His anger, however, led him into no extravagance; and, after having put a variety of other questions to his companion, who did not choose to give a straightforward answer to any of them, his wrath assumed the form of sullen silence, which he expected would soon be received as a hint to retire.
In this he was mistaken. Cousins remained with outstretched feet and emulative silence, filling his glass unbidden, with a fond reliance on the generosity of the lawyer's disposition, for all which he was heartily given to the devil full a dozen times within the next half-hour. At the end of that period, the landlord again appeared at the door, and gave Mr. Cousins a nod. The officer immediately started upon his feet, and wishing Mr. Tims good-night, with many thanks for his kind condescension, he followed mine host out of the room.