The plaintiff had not been injured. The collision had taken place some time before his arrival on the spot. The principal guard of the train in which the collision took place was in the swindle. He professed to telegraph on behalf of a passenger who had been somewhat bruised to a friend in London, which message (in order to divert suspicion) ran thus: “Collision at B——. I am not hurt. All right.” Upon this hint the plaintiff hastily communicated with one or two of his companions in such frauds, and hastened down to the spot in a gig hired from a livery stable. The vehicle deposited him about a mile from the place where the accident occurred, which had, in the mean time, been ascertained with precision. The gig was then driven back by a companion, and the plaintiff slunk off to the margin of the line, and waited for an opportunity to sigh and groan with advantage.
The return home of Mr. Freeling, who had been seen by the watchful swindler, supplied the opportunity he wanted; and the plaintiff accordingly made the noises already described, which attracted the attention of that gentleman. Of course the scoundrel knew that the railway company would, as usual, send their doctor. He knew how to get over that little difficulty. He had his confederates, and he knew how to make the most of the unscrupulous tactics of the company in dealing with the real victims of railway collisions. He saw that he could turn Dr. Attrabilious’s visit to good account by supplying it to Mr. Capulet Attic as one of the pegs for an oratorical display. The Dr. Jones who was sent for was a confederate. He belonged to the gang, and of course would have shared the spoil. The nurse was also in the swindle. The arrangement for the division of the spoil remunerated her more liberally than nurses are generally paid for their services. In fact the whole thing was a conspiracy.
I laid all these circumstances before the company’s solicitors in my report. It was, however, resolved, as we had the whole set clearly in our grasp, not to arrest them immediately, but to await the progress of events, and see if the next combination of the gang for a like purpose did not reveal to us a few more of its members. It did so. I discovered that the doctor in attendance upon a damaged railway traveller in Lancashire, about two months afterwards, and the plaintiff in the first case, visited as friends the intended plaintiff in the second place. Just as our plans were ripe for execution, we were, however, forestalled by the arrest of five members of the dangerous confederacy on two gigantic cases—one for forgery, and the rest for a great railway robbery, which had been suddenly disclosed to the police authorities by a wretch who craved vengeance upon an associate in the gang because he had been successful in carrying off the affections of “a lady” with whom the informer had cohabited. Of these men captured, all were found guilty on the strongest testimony, got at through the informer by officers who laid traps under his guidance, and by surrounding circumstances to which he had assisted them. One of the parties to my action—that is, the doctor—made good his escape. I believe he went to America.
A PATRIOTIC BARBER IN FAULT
A FEW years ago I was employed to watch “the other side” in a hotly contested election. It was my first engagement of the kind, and I sharpened my wits in order that I might fairly earn my fee,—which the reader may be glad to know was a handsome one. Perhaps he may also be pleased to learn that I am an impartial man. It is true that, on the occasion I now speak of, I was employed by the agent of the Liberal candidate; but I have, on other subsequent occasions, rendered service, and I believe good service, to Conservative gentlemen who now wear the title of M.P. During this election many curious little incidents took place, as they always do at elections, and one of them I propose to relate. By the way, there is nothing which quickens human ingenuity like a vigorous electioneering struggle. Wit, humour, desperate practical joking, and ingenious stratagems, crowd in such exciting profusion, that sometimes the strict rules of moral propriety are hidden or get confused before the eyes of the parties concerned. Sometimes I think I behaved unhandsomely towards the barber of whom I am about to speak. At other times I think it served him right. The reader shall decide between my first and my second thoughts on this head.
In the borough of W—— there lived one John Shufflebotham, a barber who earned a livelihood—that is to say, earned or got money to buy scanty food, little raiment, plenty of beer, and a liberal supply of stronger waters for the consumption of himself and Mrs. Shufflebotham—by the exercise of his trade, or “profession,” as he styled it, and it was believed in no other way. This barber had a reputation for shaving his customers as clean as they could wish for a penny each—and he would do the job at half the price for regular patrons—and for cropping any rough and stubborn head of hair, popular tradition, and the tariff on his door-post, declared threepence to be a fixed or immovable charge. This, however, was not the only character which John Shufflebotham enjoyed. He was esteemed a man of principle; thoroughly incorruptible. Not a breath of suspicion of his political honesty had ever been floated on the turbid atmosphere of W—— at the most prying time—say just after the settlement of accounts between the “free and independent voters” and the candidates. I was told that John Shufflebotham wouldn’t require to be looked after. He had never taken a bribe, and to offer him one would insure any man an ignominious chastisement. The barber was a stout man, and although beer or whisky had perhaps softened his brain a little, and rendered his muscles somewhat flaccid, there was strength enough in his legs to wield a heavy boot with almost terrible force.
This barber had acquired a degree of influence over sterling, honest working men by his reputed incorruptibility to an extent that he would not otherwise have gained, so that it became rather important to obtain his support on behalf of our candidate.
At the commencement of the struggle it was believed that John Shufflebotham would, as a matter of course, vote for our candidate; but this was a miscalculation. It appeared that something had turned the current of his political sympathies. He was down in the former poll-book as having voted for the Liberals, and so it was expected that he would vote again, bringing with him to the hustings about twenty honest fellows who believed in him.
On the contrary, he soon intimated that he had come to believe the Whigs were a little worse than the Tories. He did not think they cared, either of them, for poor working men like him or any of his customers, but that they (the Whigs and Tories) were both thieves. If he must vote, he would turn and turn about. Perhaps he should be inclined to give the Tories a turn this time; but he didn’t know. He wasn’t at all sure about it either way.
This man’s defection from our cause produced a little alarm. The feeling of which he appeared to be the exponent was also, upon inquiry, found rather more extensive than was at first thought possible. It ran beyond the pale or circle of the barber’s supposed influence; and to make matters rather worse, the barber, when assailed by a patron for apostasy, or urged to stand by his old colours, was compelled, as he said, to argufy in his own justification, which attracted other customers to his house, and it became the arena of controversy. John Shufflebotham was acquiring a reputation for oratory, in addition to his other qualities.