Now it was pretty plain that I had not adopted a sufficient humility of tone towards the celebrated Mr. Snark. Therefore did I speed to change my tactics, and now besought his aid with great and meek solicitude. This so far succeeded that, presently, he unbent sufficiently to say that three hundred pounds would be his fee, payable forthwith. This latter clause was something of a shock. To trust persons of his kidney with their pay before they earn it, is generally fatal to their promises. Yet Mr. Snark’s high reputation had made him in every way so jealous of it, and so sensitive to any slight upon his pride, that it was impossible to demur to his demand and yet keep him in an accommodating humour. Therefore with a sinking heart did I conclude the bargain, and repose my faith in that incalculable Providence that presides over all natural affairs. So soon as the money was jingling in his hands he prepared to take his leave.
“Thank ye, Miss,” says he; “but don’t forget that Snark conducts this matter at a sacrifice. He likes your solid hearty buxom face, which is the reason for his kindness. For it’s Snark’s opinion that this young rebel man o’ yours is on’y a beginner, and that his picter won’t be put into the Calendar. But let me see now. The execution is fixed up for the twenty-sixth at ten o’clock in the morning. Well, that’ll suit Snark handsomely. An’ I daresay it’ll be a pretty fashionable thing. Shall you be present, Miss?”
“Yes,” says I, “I have engaged the second floor of No. 14 in the Square.”
“No. 14, is it?” says he, with so acute a promptness that it was a proof that he was competent in all the details of his trade. “No. 14—why, that’s a Providence! It’s passage goes through to Piper’s Alley. Now if you take my advice, Miss, you’ll have the best horse in London waiting there at ten o’clock in Piper’s Alley. You can leave the rest to Snark, Miss.”
“Will you engage the Dover boat?” I asked.
“Yes,” says he, “that’s all in the three hundred, and the blessed crew that’s a-going for to sail it. An’ there’s no need to look so white about it either. Your rebel’s just as good as saved. It’s mere nut-cracking to old Snark. He’s effected twenty-nine deliverances in all parts o’ the world.”
“But pray don’t forget, sir,” says I, anxiously, “that he is sure to be guarded dreadful strong. The Government consider him as highly dangerous, and they know that he hath some influential friends.”
“Well, I reckon, Miss,” says he, “that they’ll want three full regiments o’ the line to keep him clear o’ Snark.”
A short time afterwards my whimsical visitor took his leave. When he had gone, my meditations were remarkable. It was impossible to place an absolute reliance in this ingenious person, yet none the less his character and appearance had inspired me with confidence enough to repose some hope in his professions. And verily, for better or for worse the die was cast, and if at the last this Mr. Snark should leave me in the lurch, the rebel would inevitably perish. This was the only source that I might look to for his merciful deliverance. Every other door was absolutely shut.
It was quite a painful thing to observe the cheerfulness that possessed poor Mrs. Polly. From this time until the execution day she was never tired of informing me of her firm conviction that dear, kind Mr. Snark would not fail us, and that sweet, young Mr. Anthony was as good as free. But it was absurd to see the creature’s red and swollen eyes, which her invincible smiling altogether failed to hide. And presently this parody of courage grew so intolerable to my nerves, that even allowing for the tenderness of her intentions, I was fain to cry out upon her for a cheat, and recommended her to desist from these malpractices.