Presently the traveller reached the Bell Inn, kept by Brunell, to whom he recounted his misadventure, adding that no doubt the thief would be caught, for the stolen gold was marked, according to his rule when travelling. Having ordered supper in a private room, the gentleman was soon joined by the landlord, who had heard the story, and now wished to learn at what hour the robbery took place.
“It was just as night fell,” replied the traveller.
“Then I can perhaps find the thief,” said the landlord. “I strongly suspect one of my servants, John Jennings by name, and for the following reason. The man has been very full of money of late. This afternoon I sent him out to change a guinea. He brought it back saying he could not get the change, and as he was in liquor I was resolved to discharge him to-morrow. But then I was struck with the curious fact that the guinea was not the same as that which I had given, and that it was marked. Now I hear that those you lost were all marked, and I am wondering whether this particular guinea was yours.”
“May I see it?” asked the traveller.
“Unfortunately I paid it away not long since to a man who lives at a distance, and who has gone home. But my servant Jennings, if he is the culprit, will probably have others in his possession. Let us go and search him.”
They went to Jennings’s room and examined his pockets. He was in a deep drunken sleep, and they came without difficulty upon a purse containing nineteen guineas. The traveller recognised his purse, and identified by the mark his guineas. The man was roused and arrested on this seemingly conclusive evidence. He stoutly denied his guilt, but was sent for trial and convicted. The case was thought to be clearly proved. Although the prosecutor could not swear to the man himself, as the robber had been masked, he did to his guineas. Again, the prisoner’s master told the story of his substitution of the marked for the other coin; while the man to whom the landlord had paid the marked guinea produced it in court. A comparison with the rest of the money left no doubt that these guineas were one and the same.
The unfortunate Jennings was duly sentenced to death, and executed at Hull. Yet, within a twelvemonth, it came out that the highwayman was Brunell himself. The landlord had been arrested on a charge of robbing one of his lodgers, and convicted; but he fell dangerously ill before execution. As he could not live, he made full confession of his crimes, including that for which Jennings had suffered.
It seemed that he had ridden sharply home after the theft, and, finding a debtor had called, gave him one of the guineas, not knowing they were marked. When his victim arrived and told his story, Brunell became greatly alarmed. Casting about for some way of escape, he decided to throw the blame on his servant, whom he had actually sent out to change a guinea, but who had failed, as we know, and had brought back the same coin. As Jennings was drunk, Brunell sent him to bed, and then easily planted the incriminating purse in the poor man’s clothes. No sort of indemnity seems to have been paid to Jennings’s relations or friends.
DU MOULIN’S CASE.
Of the same class was the conviction of a French refugee, Du Moulin, who had fled to England from the religious persecutions in his own country. He brought a small capital with him, which he employed in buying goods condemned at the Custom-house, disposing of them by retail. The business was “shady” in its way, as the goods in question were mostly smuggled, but Du Moulin’s honesty was not impeached until he was found to be passing false gold. He made it a frequent practice to return money paid him by his customers, declaring it was bad. The fact could not be denied, but the suspicion was that he had himself changed it after the first payment; and this happened so often that he presently got into disrepute, losing both his business and his credit. The climax came when he received a sum of £78 in guineas and Portugal gold, and “scrupled,” or questioned, several of the pieces. But he took them, giving his receipt. In a few days he brought back six coins, which he insisted were of base metal. His client Harris as positively declared that they were not the same as those he had paid. Then there was a fierce dispute. Du Moulin was quite certain; he had put the whole £78 into a drawer and left the money there till he had to use it, when part of it was at once refused. Harris continued to protest, threatening Du Moulin with a charge of fraud, but presently he paid. He lost no opportunity, however, of exposing Du Moulin’s conduct, doing so so often, and so libellously, that the other soon brought an action for defamation of character.