He sent his secretary off to London at once, and returned to Sir Charles. “The authority will be with Sharpe at 2:30. He will be at Whitehall 3:15, and examine the order. He will take the writ out at once, and if Richard Bassett is the man, he will serve it on him to-morrow in good time, and send one of your grooms over here on horseback with the news. We serve the writ personally, because we have shufflers to deal with, and I will not give them a chance. Now I must go and write a lie or two for the public; and then inspect the asylum with Suaby. Before post-time I will write to a friend of mine who is a Commissioner of Lunacy, one of the strong-minded ones. We may as well have two strings to our bow.”
Sir Charles thanked him gracefully, and said, “It is a rare thing, in this selfish world, to see one man interest himself in the wrongs of another, as you are good enough to do in mine.”
“Oh,” said Rolfe, “all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. My business is Lying; and I drudge at it. So to escape now and then to the play-ground of Truth and Justice is a great amusement and recreation to poor me. Besides, it gives me fresh vigor to replunge into Mendacity; and that's the thing that pays.”
With this simple and satisfactory explanation he rolled away.
Leaving, for the present, matters not essential to this vein of incident, I jump to what occurred toward evening.
Just after dinner the servant who waited told Dr. Suaby that a man had walked all the way from Huntercombe to see Sir Charles Bassett.
“Poor fellow!” said Dr. Suaby; “I should like to see him. Would you mind receiving him here?”
“Oh, no.”
“On second thoughts, James, you had better light a candle in the next room—in case.”
A heavy clatter was heard, and the burly figure of Moses Moss entered the room. Being bareheaded, he saluted the company by pulling his head, and it bobbed. He was a little dazzled by the lights at first, but soon distinguished Sir Charles, and his large countenance beamed with simple and affectionate satisfaction.