They then took him before a Justice of the Peace at Highgate, who put many searching questions, without gaining any information. He was, however, committed to Clerkenwell Bridewell, and was afterwards examined by none other than Henry Fielding, magistrate and novelist. Sent from the Old Bailey to stand his trial at Hertford Assizes, he was acquitted for lack of exact evidence, although every one was fully satisfied of his guilt, for, however strange the times, they were not so strange that honest gentlemen carried such a compromising collection of things about with them on the roads.
His narrow escape did not disturb him, and he was soon again on his lawless prowls. On Hounslow Heath he robbed a Captain of one of the Guards regiments, and was pursued into Hounslow town by that officer, shouting "Highwayman!" after him. No one took any notice. Page got clear away, and afterwards boasted of having, the following night at a theatre in London, sat next the officer, who did not recognise him.
An interlude followed in the activities of our high-spirited highwayman. He and an old acquaintance struck up a more intimate friendship over the tables of billiard-rooms in London, and there they entered into an alliance, with the object of rooking frequenters of those places. But their returns were small and precarious, and did not even remotely compare with the rich harvest to be gathered on the road, to which he accordingly returned.
It was Page's ill-fortune to meet with several plucky travellers, who, like Captain Jasper, would not tamely submit to be robbed, and resisted by force of arms. Among them was Lord Downe, whose post-chaise he, with a companion, one day stopped at Barnet. Presenting his pistol, he issued the customary orders, but, to his surprise, Lord Downe himself drew a pistol, and discharged it with such excellent aim, that Page was shot in the body, and bled very copiously. His companion's horse, alarmed at the shot, grew restive, and thus his friend was for a while unable to come to his aid. Page, however, again advanced to the attack; but my lord was ready with another pistol, and so the highwaymen thought it best to make off. They hurried to London, and Page sought a doctor, who found the wound so dangerous, that he refused to treat him without consultation. The other doctor, immediately on arriving, recognised Page, and asked him how he came by the wound; to which Page replied, that he had received it in a duel he had just fought.
"I will extract the ball," replied the doctor; "but," he added significantly, "I do not wish to see your face again, for I believe you fought that duel near Barnet."
Shortly after his recovery from this untoward incident, he and one ally, Darwell, by name, an old schoolfellow, waiting upon chance on Shooter's Hill, met two post-chaises, in one of which was a "supercargo" belonging to the East India Company, and in the other a person, who is simply described as a "gentleman."
Page's accomplice opened the encounter by firing a pistol, to which the supercargo replied in like manner; but with a better aim, for the bullet tore away a portion of his coat, under the armpit. A second shot from the highwayman was also ineffective. Then Page rode up and attacked the other chaise. A desperate fusillade followed; but the only damage done was that Page's horse was slightly wounded. At last, the post-chaise travellers having expended all their ammunition, the two highwaymen compelled them to alight, and the postilions to dismount; and then, having bound the hands of all of them with rope, they ordered these unfortunate persons, on peril of their lives, to remain on that spot for one hour. They then returned to the chaises, removed the travelling trunks, and, carrying them off on horseback, hid them securely.
Then they hastened back to London. The next morning, in two chaises, they returned to the spot, and in security brought back the trunks, which contained, not only a large amount of money, but a mass of important documents belonging to the East India Company.
A reward of forty guineas was offered, by advertisement in the newspapers of the time, for the return of the documents, "and no questions asked." The advertisers themselves, by so doing, risked a fine of £50 for compounding a felony; but, in any case, the reward was never claimed, although Page carefully returned the papers anonymously.
The fact which at last cut the knot of William Page's existence was the robbing of Captain Farrington in 1757, on Blackheath. Among other things the Captain was compelled to render to this Cæsar of the roads was a gold repeater watch. Hotly pursued, Page gave the hue-and-cry a long chase for it, and finally, arriving at Richmond, had himself and his exhausted horse ferried across to Twickenham.