So thoroughly did Mr. Fielding enter into this plan, that very soon Sir Thomas began to babble in his talk with a most unwonted levity, and even essayed to sing a song. With such assiduity was he plied, that he presently advanced stage by stage, until my companion considered him to be sufficiently primed for this business. Thereon Fielding rang the bell and ordered the head-constable, who with his men was keeping guard over the premises, to be brought to him. When that worthy presented himself, Mr. Fielding says with an inimitable glib audacity:
"Sir Thomas, after much weighing of the merits of this case, hath come to the conclusion that the evidence is not sufficient to send these prisoners for trial. He is sensibly fearful of some miscarriage of justice, the more particularly as one of their number that you brought before him hath turned out on an examination to be anything but what he was represented. Therefore Sir Thomas bids me to inform you that he hath decided to remit these charges. And he would have you release these people at once, that they may go about their business. And when you have done this, you are to take your men to the kitchen, where they are to have a good supper of beef and ale, and they can then repair to their homes. And at least this course, this somewhat extreme course I may say, that Sir Thomas hath decided on will save you all from a long and weary vigil in the night air."
However surprised the head-constable was at this unexpected turn of events, he was by no means disposed to cavil at it, since the only way in which the fate of the gypsies could affect himself was the one that Mr. Fielding had so adroitly indicated. Not so the scandalized justice. Fuddled as he was, he had enough wit left to apprehend what was going forward. But he had not enough, however, to interpose his authority in a way that was at all likely to take effect. At all his thick and nearly inarticulate protests, his friend Mr. Fielding kept hushing and soothing him down, with highly eloquent and imploring gestures.
"Oh lord, Tommie," he would say, "I pray you have a care. Here am I trying to conceal the fact that you are abominably drunk, and yet you will flaunt it and advertise it, before the servants too. Think of your own dignity, Tommie, I beseech you."
Whereon the head-constable would rub his coat-sleeve across his face to conceal his laughter. Sir Thomas would grunt and wriggle and writhe his tipsy protests, and his friend, Mr. Fielding, with the oddest mingling of sorrow, amusement, and solemnity, apparently struggled to put the best face he could on the justice's scandalous behaviour.
CHAPTER XIII
I FIND OUT CYNTHIA: CYNTHIA FINDS OUT ME
It was in this agreeable fashion that my unlucky friends obtained their release. The justice was in no condition to cope with Mr. Fielding's peremptory ways; and the constable, seeing and caring nothing beyond the advantage to his own personal comfort, was not at all disposed to wait until the magistrate was in a better condition to express his opinions and good pleasure. Thus he bowed to Sir Thomas whilst that inarticulate gentleman was still wrestling with his thick speech, assured him his will should be obeyed, and that he would see to it that his officers made a good supper in the kitchen, and took his departure without any reluctance whatever.
"So much for that matter," says Mr. Fielding, highly pleased with the success of his own ingenuity. "We have robbed the gallows of eight good necks and true, which is, I think, a pretty liberal evening's work. Yet as this is a night for good works, let us spend it fittingly. Ring the bell, Tommie, ring the bell. The last of these bottles died a full two minutes ago."
Unfortunately Sir Thomas was in no condition at this stage to comply with such a request, and Mr. Fielding had perforce to perform that office himself. A fresh relay of wine was brought, and our glasses were filled up again. Sitting here in the midst of these insidious allurements, well found in all bodily comfort and good companionship, it needed but a corresponding ease of mind to be as perfectly content as Mr. Fielding himself. I had been most providentially delivered from a very real and immediate peril, had contributed to the saving of eight poor people from the gallows, and had exchanged the cold night for a far happier sanctuary; but with all this, I was nearly at the verge of despair. Where was Cynthia? What had happened to that poor child, and how could we hope to come together again! Neither of us knew in which direction the other had gone; and to search for each other in that dark night was clearly impossible, seeing how complete was our ignorance of the neighbouring country.