CHAPTER XXXV.
As rapidly as post-horses and postillions would permit, Beauchamp's courier returned from London, bringing with him the officers who had been in Paris already on the same business, both of whom paid the young gentleman a great many compliments on his skill and proficiency in their particular branch of science; but, as Beauchamp would very well have dispensed with such a flattering testimony of his abilities in thief-catching, we shall not give the somewhat circumlocutory praises of the officers at length.
By this time the operation of extracting the ball had been performed upon the young sailor; and although there appeared no chance of his being able to bear a long journey for some time, yet he was already so far convalescent that no doubt was entertained of his ultimate recovery.
Harding, Smithson, and the woman, Sarah Ings, confined apart, had already shown the difference of the characters in the different manner in which they had borne their situation. The woman wept continually, declaring with loud lamentations that she would tell all she knew, if they would but spare her life. Smithson alternately stormed and raved, or gave way to brutal jests and wild merriment. Harding remained calm, cool, and silent, quite disposed to philosophize upon his situation with any one who would philosophize with him, or to sneer at any who offered him one word of compassion or admonition; but at the same time, a great deal too wary to utter a syllable that might endanger the slight hope of escape which still remained.
After a brief interview with Beauchamp, the officers, with very natural impatience, hastened to visit their prisoners; and R----, who held the principal post, immediately addressed Harding with a great deal of civility. "Oh, Mr. Harding," he said, "I am sorry to see you here!"
"You mistake, sir," said Harding, "I do not remember you at all."
"What! not when you were secretary to Mr. ----, the banker who failed?" said the officer. "Poo! poo! that cock won't fight, Master Harding. Don't you remember going up with me to Mr. Tims's, at Clement's Inn; and how, after a great piece of work, he promised not only to drop proceedings against you, but to get you a good place into the bargain, if you would tell all about the embezzlement of the money; and a good place he did get you I find--pity you didn't keep it when you had got it. Howsoever, that is no business of mine--but you must take part of a shay with me over to England, Master Harding; and I dare say we shall be very good friends on the road."
"Perhaps so!" replied the prisoner; and, after a few more words, the officers proceeded to visit the other male culprit. To him, however, their manner was totally different. "Ha! Tony, my lad!" cried the head officer; "how do you do this many a day? Why? how the devil were you such a soft chap as to get taken in for such a bad job as this--but you had nearly bilked us all, by jingo!"
"Oh, R----," he replied, "Oh, it is a bad job, indeed! But I knew well enough that I was well nigh up to my weight; and that d--d fellow, Harding, persuaded me, you see! But I say, R----, tell me, is that young Harrison like to die? Harding gave him a h--ll of a shot, and d--n him, if he would die, if I would not take to talking, and plead the king's pardon, do you see!"
"No, no!" answered the officer. "No chance of his dying! No, no, Tony It's all up with you! They must hang two of you; and if any one gets off, in course it will be the woman."
At this hopeless picture of his situation, the ruffian first swore and blasphemed for two or three minutes, and then, relapsing into the other extreme, cast himself down and wept like a child.
"Fie, fie, Tony!" cried the officer. "Die game, anyhow; why, I thought you were more varment than that comes to--a man must die somehow, you know--and you have had a long pull at it, my lad--besides, it's all nonsense when one knows that it must be so."
"Ay, that's the job!" said the prisoner. "If one could but think of someway of getting off--"
"Don't you fancy that," replied the officer. "Why, look ye now, Tony, if you could get off for this last job, I'll tell you as a friend, they'd hang you for that burning business; for they've got proof enough against you for that."
This last argument seemed completely to dispel all Mr. Anthony Smithson's objections to being hanged; and after two or three exhortations to those virtues that Bow-street officers expect from thieves, the two children of Mercury went on to visit the female prisoner. As, however, we have fully as great a disgust to scenes of low vice and misery as our readers can have, and only introduce them where compelled to do so in accordance with truth, we shall leave the officers to conduct their prisoners to England, and proceed to notice the events which occurred to Henry Beauchamp.
That gentleman then set off from Paris with all speed, as soon as he had seen the prisoners safely consigned to the Bow-street officers. He well knew that such adventures as those in which he had lately been engaged could not fail to find their way into the mouth of rumor; and for many reasons he wished to reach London ere that lady was ready to go a trumpeting before him, like the man with the box on his back, who walks before Punch.
He succeeded tolerably well; so that the fact of Henry Beauchamp being living instead of dead, upon dry land instead of under the sea, was not known to above fifty thousand people when he arrived in London. Out of this number about a thousand had congratulated Lord Ashborough on the resuscitation of his nephew; but the noble lord had so impressed upon his mind that his nephew was dead, that he would not believe a word of the story, gravely saying, that he would give it implicit credence as soon as he heard it from any one who would say that they had seen Henry Beauchamp with their own eyes.
As none of those could be met with, and as the story could be traced to no authentic source, Lord Ashborough held fast his conviction; and, up to the hour of Beauchamp's arrival, continued in the same belief.
It was late at night, or rather early in the morning, when Beauchamp did once more reach the capital; and as he imagined that he was not likely to find any thing prepared for his accommodation in the house of a dead man, he directed the post boys to drive to a hotel, rather than his own dwelling. It was later the next morning when he rose than he had purposed over night; but nevertheless, as soon as he was up, he set forth for Lord Ashborough's, and walked immediately into the drawing-room, where, although the earl himself had breakfasted and gone out, Beauchamp had soon the pleasure of holding his sister in his arms.
Although Maria Beauchamp was not in the least surprised to see him, as she had long before received convincing assurances of his safety--and though she was as light a hearted girl as ever danced through life, unconscious of its sorrows--yet when she first met her brother, after all the dangers he had encountered, the tears rose up in her eyes, from the more vivid impression which his presence produced upon her mind of the loss she would have suffered had the report of his death been true.
The conversation between Henry and Maria Beauchamp was long, and to them highly interesting; and had the world ever been known to forgive those who write dialogues between brothers and sisters, it should have been here transcribed for general edification. In the course of it, Maria made herself acquainted with a great many of the secrets of her brother's heart, and, in return, gave him a far more clear and minute insight into all the views and designs of Lord Ashborough and his worthy agent, Mr. Peter Tims, than Beauchamp had imagined so gay and careless a girl could have been shrewd enough to obtain. From her quick-sightedness in all those particulars, however, in which the interests of William Delaware were concerned, Beauchamp concluded--a result which his sister certainly neither wished nor anticipated--that the surmise of his good lawyer, Mr. Wilkinson, was not so far wrong as he had at first imagined; and he paused, musing with a smile over all the events that yet might be in the wheel of fortune.
The anatomy of a smile is sometimes a curious thing, and that which then played upon Beauchamp's lip was not without its several parts and divisions. In the first place, the idea of his gay, smart, and dashing sister falling in love with a frank, straightforward, simple-hearted sailor, who had neither rank nor fortune to offer her, made him smile. In the next place, he felt the slightest possible shade of disappointment at the idea of Maria Beauchamp not marrying the marquis of this, or the earl of that; and the very absurdity of such a feeling in his bosom, of all the bosoms in the world, made him smile at himself; and the two smiles blended together. The third part of the smile, and which was the purest part too, proceeded from many a sweet feeling and bland hope which rose up when he suffered his mind's eye to gaze on into futurity, and thought of the varied sorts of happiness it might be in the power of him and his to bestow on a noble and generous race, weighed down by long misfortunes.
As soon as all these feelings had had their moment and were gone, and he had given his sister an account of his wondrous accidents by flood and field--Beauchamp wrote a brief note to his uncle, informing him of his return, and then
"Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum."
he set forth with all speed to his lawyer's chambers, in order to carry on the whole proceedings in exculpation of William Delaware, as rapidly as possible.
In regard to his conversation with Mr. Wilkinson, it may be only necessary to notice, that Beauchamp found, that with prompt and judicious zeal, that gentleman, on discovering that some thoughts were really entertained at the Admiralty of inflicting a signal disgrace upon Captain Delaware for his evasion, had waited personally on the First Lord, and had laid before him that part of his client's deposition which admitted, in the clearest manner, that the money had been placed by Beauchamp himself in the young officer's room; thus showing, that the chief circumstance of suspicion was taken from the evidence. He farther informed him that Beauchamp had discovered the real murderers, and was at that moment in pursuit of them; and he ended by beseeching him to pause ere he took any step in the proceedings which rumor declared to be in agitation.
He was met, in every respect, with frank and gentlemanly courtesy, and was assured that nothing could be more gratifying to his majesty than to find just cause for suspending that expression of his indignation against any officer in his service which the stern voice of justice could alone compel him to publish.
So far every thing was satisfactory. "And now," said Beauchamp, "all that remains to be done for the present, is to open the eyes of my uncle to the conduct of this base attorney of his."
"Spare us! spare us! Mr. Beauchamp, I beg," said Mr. Wilkinson. "But, without attempting to defend attorneys, who, as a body, have got a bad name, not so much, I believe, from having more rogues among them than are to be found in other professions, but from having greater opportunities of roguery, allow me to say that I am afraid you will find it a difficult thing to open your uncle's eyes."
"Why, why, my dear sir?" demanded Beauchamp; "we can prove the facts. Tell me why?"
"Oh, for many reasons," answered Mr. Wilkinson, musing, and perhaps not exactly liking to state the real basis of his opinion. "The fact is, it is like eating garlic, Mr. Beauchamp, or drinking spirits, or taking any other of those things which a man nauseates at first, but gets very fond of by degrees--when a person grows fond of a rogue he gradually gets to like him beyond any one else, and soon finds he can not do without him."
Beauchamp smiled, though there was a slight sort of mistiness about the conclusion of Mr. Wilkinson's illustration which he did not exactly like. However, he pressed him no farther and having learned that Lord Ashborough was carrying on a suit against Sir Sidney Delaware in regard to the annuity, with somewhat sharper measures than the generality of the profession considered reputable, he obtained the bill for ten thousand pounds which Mr. Tims had presented in lieu of the money due from the earl, and then returned to his uncle's dwelling.
Lord Ashborough was now at home; and although Miss Beauchamp had broke the news of her brother's return, and added a number of reasons and apologies for his not having sooner communicated the fact of his safety, the earl was still both agitated and offended, and his reception of Beauchamp showed a strange mixture of pride, and irritation, and pleasure.
"And pray, Henry, may I ask--" he said, after their first salutations were over--"may ask, I say--for your movements and their causes may both require the same diplomatic secrecy which you have of late so skillfully displayed--may I ask, I say, why you were pleased to conceal your existence from your nearest relations? Your sister has, indeed, already favored me with so many reasons, that I confess I have become puzzled and bewildered by the number, and would fain hear your own motives from your own lips."
Beauchamp was not a man to make any excuse to any one, if he had not a true one ready at his hand. In the present instance, he thought it best to tell Lord Ashborough the simple truth, and then leave him to receive it as an excuse or not, as he might think best; taking care, at the same time, to word it with all due respect and kindness, in deference to the affection which he knew his uncle felt toward him.
"The fact is, my dear sir," he answered, "for the first fortnight or three weeks after you had fancied me drowned, I was not at all aware of such a report. I was first detained at a cottage, with a dislocated ankle, and next ill of a fever at Hartford Bridge; and at the time I learned the rumor of my own death I was under the absolute necessity of going to Paris, in order to pursue the miscreants who committed the horrid murder, of which you have heard, at Ryebury. As I was the only person who could prove the facts against them, or lead to their apprehension, the rumor of my death I knew would throw them off their guard; and therefore it was necessary to leave it uncontradicted. Besides--"
"But, surely," interrupted Lord Ashborough, who, though strongly inclined to inquire farther concerning the murderers, was resolved to press Beauchamp home in the first instance. "But surely you could have trusted to my discretion in the business."
"Undoubtedly, my lord!" replied Beauchamp; "and I need not tell you that, under any ordinary circumstances, you would have been the very first person to whom I should have communicated my situation, and whom I should have consulted in what I was undertaking."
Lord Ashborough bowed his bead with a placable smile, and Beauchamp continued--"But I could only have done so by writing to you, or by coming to see you. The latter, of course, was out of the question; for I was not willing to trust my secret to your host of servants, and to write was equally impossible, as there were circumstances to explain which could only be done personally."
"How so? Why so?" demanded the earl.
"That is what I was about to explain," answered Beauchamp. "The fact is, that the man of all others whose greatest interest it was to foil me in endeavoring to bring the murderers to justice--with the exception, of course, of the murderers themselves--is your confidential man of business and lawyer, Mr. Peter Tims."
Lord Ashborough started; for though this carried him back again to the subject of the murderers, it was not exactly in the way he best liked. "You are mistaken, Henry," he said; "quite mistaken! No man has been more anxious in thought, or more strenuous in exertion, than Mr. Tims, to bring the murderers of his uncle to justice--you forget their near relationship, and he is a great deal too--too--too--"
Lord Ashborough would fain have added, "Too honest a man!" but the words stuck in his throat, and, as he paused, Beauchamp finished the sentence for him--"Too great a rogue, my lord, he most certainly is, ever to think of relationship where interest is concerned. I found that out some time ago, ere I took the step of removing my affairs from his hands to those of Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson."
Lord Ashborough drew himself up--"I believe, sir," he said, "that I have not acquired the character in the world of a man who is likely to employ a rogue, either from folly or knavery. But, as you have brought a serious accusation against my ordinary man of business, I shall of course expect you to substantiate it fully."
"That I will do completely to your lordship's satisfaction," replied Beauchamp; "and indeed, I trust you will believe me, my dear uncle, when I assure you, that the certainty of this man having, by a gross misrepresentation of facts, involved you in circumstances, which will be very painful to you when you learn all the details, is the great inducement which makes me accuse your agent at once to yourself, before I take such measures as must expose him to the world."
Beauchamp paused; but his intimate acquaintance with his uncle's character had given him a sort of intuitive insight into what was passing in his mind, and had revealed a great many secrets which, as his nephew, he would rather not have learned, but which of course he acted upon in his transactions with the noble earl. In the present instance, he clearly perceived that Lord Ashborough's vanity was getting irritable at the very idea of having been cheated, and that, at the same time, curiosity and anxiety were both striving hard to keep vanity down till they were satisfied; but that vanity being the strongest, was likely to have her own way. Under these circumstances, Beauchamp thought it would be best to throw in a little soothing matter to quiet the more restive animal of the three, and keep her from kicking. He therefore added, after a very brief pause, "I know, my lord, that the plans of this man, which could deceive even your sagacity, must have been very deeply and artfully laid; and unless"--he added, anxious not to assume superior wisdom--"and unless accident and his own imprudence had thrown into my hands the means of establishing his knavery beyond a doubt, I should not have ventured to make such a charge as I have brought against him. I know, however, that you are too candid not to yield to conviction; and my purpose is to request that you would call him to your presence, and suffer me to ask him a question or two before you."
"Of course, Henry," replied the earl, "I am not only willing, but anxious in the highest degree to give up my mind entirely to truth; for, besides the great personal interest which I have in the honesty of a man to whom I confide so much as to this Mr. Tims, the abstract love of severe and impartial justice also, requires that I should hear any evidence that can be brought in support of so grave a charge, so boldly made. But tell me," he continued, feeling that there were particular points on which he would not particularly like to have his agent questioned in his presence; "tell me, do the questions you intend to put refer to any affairs of mine, or to affairs of your own!--for I know you have several times employed this Mr. Tims. If to mine, I must say nay, most decidedly; for I can permit no one either to investigate or interfere with business which I am competent to manage myself."
"My questions will refer entirely to business of my own, my lord," replied Beauchamp. "With yours, I should never presume to meddle, though I feel perfectly convinced that you would not have proceeded at law against Sir Sidney Delaware for a sum that had been already paid to your agent, had you not been persuaded by an infamous villain that, the money received did not constitute a legal payment, inasmuch as he affirmed that it was the fruits of a robbery."
Lord Ashborough turned a little pale; but he had canvassed the matter so often with Mr. Tims, and considered all the contingencies so accurately, that he was prepared at every point for defense. "Nay, Henry, nay," he said, assuming a benignant smile--"Nay; I see which way your prejudices lead you. The most connected evidence would not convince either yourself or your sister of that unhappy young man's guilt--but even taking the converse of the matter, and supposing that he has been accused erroneously, still you do great injustice to the poor little lawyer, who surely commits no great crime in believing a man to be guilty, against whom a coroner's jury, after calm investigation and mature deliberation, have given a verdict of willful murder."
"In the first place, my lord," replied Beauchamp coolly, "in regard to William Delaware, as I know your lordship would be as much delighted to see his innocence clearly established as any one--"
"Oh, certainly, certainly!" interrupted the earl, with all the energy that a man adds to a falsehood in order to make it weigh as much as truth. "Certainly--let justice be done, and let the innocent be cleared!"
"Well, then," added Beauchamp, with the slightest possible touch of causticity in his manner, "you will be delighted to hear, that there remains not the slightest doubt of William Delaware's innocence. In the first place, I myself was encountered by the murderers at the very door of the dead man's house; was carried off by them, after being knocked down and stunned; which facts I can distinctly prove against at least two of them. In the next place I have the confession of one in my writing-desk; and, in the third place, three of them are by this time at Dover, on their way to trial. The fourth is in Paris, but in safe hands, too, and will come over to give his testimony as king's evidence."
Lord Ashborough again turned pale; and while he declared that he trusted most sincerely it would prove as his nephew anticipated, he rang the bell, and, in an under tone, bade the servant bring him some of the drops to which we have before seen him apply.
Beauchamp's next sentences, however, were in some degree a relief, for they afforded a fair hope of being able to cast all the blame upon Mr. Tims, should it be rendered necessary by any after-disclosures. "So much for that matter, my lord," added his nephew; "and of course I can not blame Mr. Tims for not divining all the evidence that might ultimately be collected to exculpate Captain Delaware. But what I intend to establish is, that at the very time that he, Mr. Tims, was retaining--under the pretense that the money was a part of his uncle's property--a sum which of right belonged to you, having been paid in redemption of the Emberton annuity--that at the very time he was urging you on, to proceed severely against a family which he taught you to believe was criminal--that while he was doing all this, he was perfectly well aware that the money did not belong to his uncle; that it had never been the fruits of robbery; and that I must have placed it in the chamber of Captain Delaware, as that gentleman himself asserted."
"If you can prove that, Henry," replied his uncle, "I will admit that I have been most grossly deceived, and will abandon the fellow forever; but I should like to hear what evidence you can bring forward in corroboration of these assertions."
"You shall hear, my lord, to-morrow, if you will order him to be here after breakfast," replied Beauchamp. "You must confront the accuser and the accused, before you judge--and in the mean time, as I intend to dine with you, I will go and dress, for it is growing late."