In this, and other expeditions of the same kind, they wore Venetian masks; but this covering could not stifle conscience in Maclaine, nor animate him into courage. He accompanied Plunket, it is true, and was by at the robbery, but, strictly speaking, had no hand in it; for his fears were so great that he had no power to utter a word, or to draw a pistol. The least resistance on the part of the countryman would have given wings to his heels, and have caused him to leave his more daring accomplice in the lurch.
Even when the robbery was over, and the countryman out of sight, Maclaine’s fears were intolerable. He followed Plunket for some miles without speaking a word; and when they put up at an inn, nearly ten miles from the place of the robbery, he called for a private room, fearful of every shadow, and terrified at every sound. His agonies of mind were so great, that Plunket was fearful that his folly would raise suspicion in the house, and he would fain have persuaded him to return immediately to London; but he would not stir till it was dusk, and then would not appear at the stables from which they had hired the horses, but left the care of them to Plunket.
He was now, by his share of this ill-acquired booty, very nearly reimbursed his losses at the masquerade, and might easily have undertaken his voyage; but he had lost all peace of mind, and was become entirely void of prudence. So great was his dread of a discovery, though Plunket represented the impossibility of it, that he would not stir out of his room for some days, and even then did not think himself safe, but proposed going down to the country for a week or two. Plunket did not oppose his departure, especially as he was to direct the route, and had gotten some intimation of a prize coming that day from St. Alban’s, towards which place they set out. When they had gone a few miles, Plunket imparted to him his design, which Maclaine promised to second, with a great deal of reluctance. When they came within sight of the coach, in which was their expected booty, Maclaine would have persuaded Plunket to desist; but the other turning his qualms of conscience into ridicule, and dropping some hints of cowardice, Maclaine prepared for the attack, crying, “He needs must whom the devil drives. I am over shoes, and must over boots;” but, notwithstanding, conducted himself in so distracted a manner as went nigh to lose them their prey. They took, however, from a gentleman and a lady in the coach two gold watches, and about twenty pounds in money, with which they got clear off; but did not think fit to keep that road any longer, but turned off, and before morning put up at an inn at Richmond, where Maclaine was as much in the horrors as in London; had no rest, no peace of mind, and stayed there two or three days, sulky, sullen, and perplexed as to what course he was to pursue. His wish, however, to be in town in time for the ship’s departure for Jamaica, determined him to return to London in a fortnight, when he found that the ship had sailed two days before,—a disappointment that added to his former perplexity. Nevertheless, having money in his pocket, he contrived to excuse himself to his friends for his untoward absence, and promised, and seriously designed, to set out on the very next opportunity.
But the expensive company he kept in the interim, and further losses at play, once more stripped him of his money; and his evil genius, Plunket, was ever at his elbow, ready to suggest the former method of supply, with which he now complied much less reluctantly than before. The bounds of honor once overstepped, especially when success and security attend the villany, the habit of vice grows strong; and the checks of conscience, gradually less regarded, at length pass without notice. In a word, Maclaine hardened himself by degrees to villany, left the company of his city acquaintance that they might not tease him about his voyage to Jamaica, and took lodgings in St. James street, a place excellently suited to his purpose, for his appearance glanced off all suspicion, and he had a favorable opportunity, when gentlemen came to town, of knowing and watching their motions, and consequently of following and waylaying them on the road.
In the space of six months, he and Plunket, sometimes in company and sometimes separately, committed fifteen or sixteen robberies in Hyde Park, and within twenty miles of London, and obtained some large prizes. But still the money went as it came, for Plunket loved his bottle and intrigue, and Maclaine was doatingly fond of fine clothes, balls, and masquerades, at all which places he made a conspicuous figure. As he still had fortune-hunting in view, he was very assiduous in his attentions to women, and was not altogether unsuccessful; but, we imagine, made sincere return to none but such as had money in their own hands, or could be useful in helping him to an introduction to such as had.
And here it were needless and not productive of much interest to recount several intrigues in which Maclaine was engaged, and it were not a little painful to narrate two instances of wanton seduction on his part, which, were there no other counts in the moral indictment against him, would be sufficient to consign him to eternal infamy.
Mr. Maclaine applied himself also to his old profession of fortune-hunting, and, in company with his old and worthy coadjutor Plunket, made several attempts to entrap heiresses, all of which proved abortive. While he was intent upon these schemes, he had no opportunity of making excursions on the road, and to defray his expenses had borrowed from a citizen’s wife, with whom he had an intrigue, about twenty pounds, which he promised faithfully to repay before her husband should return from the country. The time of the citizen’s arrival being at hand, the good wife became exceedingly curious about the coin; and as a similar favor might be wanted by him at a future time, Mr. Maclaine made it a point of conscience to keep his word with her, and appointed her to come to him at his country lodgings at Chelsea, where he paid her the money. He, however, took care that his friend Plunket should ease her of the trouble of carrying it home, by waylaying her in the Five-fields.
Soon after this, a supply of cash being wanted, Plunket and he prepared for an expedition, and took the road to Chester; and in three days committed five robberies between Stony Stratford and Whitechurch, one of which was upon an intimate acquaintance, by whom Maclaine had been handsomely entertained but two days before. However, the booty in the whole five robberies did not amount to thirty pounds in cash, but they had watches, rings, &c. to a much greater amount. On the very evening of their return to town, they obtained information that an officer in the East India company’s service had received a large sum of money, with which he was about to return to Greenwich. They waylaid and robbed him of a very considerable sum, and it would seem that on this occasion they were under some dread of a discovery; for, in a few days after the commission of it, Maclaine set out for the Hague, and Plunket for Ireland.
On the arrival of the former at the Hague, he pretended a friendly visit to his brother, who received him with cordiality and affection, and as honesty is never suspicious, he was easily induced to give credit to the specious tale which his brother related to him. He told him that he had got a considerable fortune with his late wife, and that her father, who died some few months before, had left him a valuable legacy, with which he designed to purchase a company in the army. Upon that, and the interest of his other funds, he said, he hoped to live at ease for the remainder of his life. His worthy brother, rejoicing in his prosperity, introduced him to his acquaintance and friends, amongst whom Mr. Maclaine behaved with great politeness, giving balls and large parties; to pay for which, it is surmised, he had the art to extract the gold watches and purses of his guests without suspicion.
However, upon his arrival in London, to which place he had been induced to return by a letter from Plunket, informing him of another rich matrimonial prize, which was, as usual, beyond his reach or above his ingenuity to ensnare;—he again appears to have taken up his old thoughts of preparing for Jamaica, as a last resource. But these thoughts did not long possess him; for though by the sale of his horses and furniture he might have fitted himself for the West Indies in a very genteel manner, and had still reputation enough left to have procured sufficient recommendations from home; yet he was prevailed upon to try his fate on the road once more, and was but too successful, making several rich prizes. Amongst the rest he and Plunket robbed Horace Walpole,[3] and on a reward being advertised for the watch which they had taken from him, Plunket had the impudence to go and receive it himself, choosing to run the risk rather than trust a third person with their hazardous secret. But all human prudence is in vain to stop the hand of justice, when once the measure of our iniquity is full; our closest secrets take wind, we know not how; and our own folly acts the part of an informer to awaken offended justice. The crisis of Maclaine’s fate was at hand. It was he who proposed his last excursion to Plunket, who was ill at the time, and was very unwilling to turn out; but Maclaine, impelled by some uncommon impulse, urged him so earnestly, that he at length complied. They came up about two o’clock in the morning, near Turnham Green, with the Salisbury stage-coach, in which five men and a woman were passengers. Though this was Maclaine’s expedition, yet Plunket was the acting man, and obliged all the men to come out of the coach one by one, and rifled them; and then, putting his pistol in his pocket, lest he should frighten the lady, without forcing her out of the coach, he took what she offered without further search. Plunket would now have gone off; but Maclaine, full of his fate, demanded the cloak-bags out of the boot of the coach; each of them took one before him and rode off, bidding a polite adieu to the passengers, and riding as deliberately as though they had been performing some signal service.