“The hypocrite had left his mask, and stood In naked ugliness. He was a man Who stole the livery of the court of Heaven To serve the devil in.” —Pollock.
Three hours after his interview and rejection by Erminie, Judge Lawless alighted at the inn-door in Judestown. The obsequious landlord came out all bows and smiles to greet the grand seignor of this rustic town, and ushered him into the parlor with as much, and considerably more, respect than he would have shown to the king of England, had that gentleman condescended to visit the “Judestown House,” as the flaming gilt sign-board announced it to be.
“Glass wine, sir? brandy water, sir? s’gar, sir? anything you want, sir?” insinuated mine host, all in a breath.
“No, my good man, I want nothing,” said the judge, with a pompous wave of his jeweled hand; “I have come on important business this afternoon. Is there a somewhat dissipated character, a sailor, called Black—Black—really I—”
“Bart, sir? Yes, sir. Here five minutes ’go sir,” breathlessly cut in the landlord.
“Ah!” said the judge, slowly, passing his hand over his mustache; “can you find him for me? I wish to see him. I have reason to believe he can give me some information concerning these smugglers who of late have alarmed the good people around here so much.”
“Yes, sir, hunt him up five minutes sir.” And off bustled the host of the Judestown House in search of Black Bart.
Judge Lawless arose with knit brows and began pacing excitedly up and down the room when alone. He knew this Black Bart well, knew all about the smugglers, too, as his well-stocked cellar could testify. Judge Lawless found them very useful in various ways and having a remarkably elastic conscience of his own was troubled with no scruples about cheating the revenue, so long as his wine-bin was well supplied. But this was abduction—something more dangerous, something that required all his wounded self-love, and disappointed passion, and intense mortification to give him courage for. But his plans were formed. For money he knew Black Bart and his comrades would do anything, and money Judge Lawless had in plenty.
Half an hour passed. The judge began to cast many an impatient glance toward the door, when a bold, vigorous knock was heard. Knocks are very expressive to those who understand them; they speak as plainly as words; and this one was given with a loud, surly independence, that said, just as plainly as lips could speak: “I am as good a man as you are, Judge Lawless, and I don’t care a curse for you or all the revenue officers from here to Land’s End.” Judge Lawless understood it, and throwing himself into a chair, he called out, blandly:
“Come in.”