While, however, they are thus walking homeward, intending, in the event of Mrs. Aubrey becoming fatigued, to take a coach, let me, in order to enable the reader to appreciate the paragraph to which Mr. Runnington had called Aubrey's attention, turn for a while from this virtuous and afflicted couple, to trace the leading movements of that master-spirit of evil, Mr. Gammon; for which purpose, it will be necessary to take up our history from the evening of the day in which Mr. Aubrey had called at Mr. Gammon's chambers, to forbid him visiting any longer at Vivian Street. By that time, Mr. Gammon had thoroughly thought out his plan of operations. What had passed between him and Miss Aubrey and her brother, had satisfied him that the time for calling into action all his forces had arrived; and the exact end he proposed to himself was, to plunge Mr. Aubrey at once into apparently inextricable and hopeless difficulty—into total ruin—so as to render them all more accessible to Mr. Gammon's advances, and force Miss Aubrey into entertaining his addresses, as the sole means of effecting her brother's liberation. For this purpose, it would be necessary to make him debtor to so large an amount as would preclude the interference of even the most liberally disposed of his friends. Those might very probably go as far as fifteen hundred pounds on his behalf, who could not be brought to think of twelve thousand pounds—it being borne in mind, that one alone of Mr. Aubrey's friends, Lord De la Zouch, was already liable, on his behalf, to some eleven thousand pounds, which would become payable on the ensuing 24th of January. But the mask was not yet to be thrown off; Gammon resolved to appear the firm friend of Mr. Aubrey to the last; deprecating vehemently, and striving to avert from him, the very proceedings which he was all the while, with secret skill and vigor, urging on against him. He determined, therefore, to recall Titmouse's attention to the two promissory notes for £5,000 each; to pretend reluctance to allow them to be put in suit, and yet give him clearly to understand that he might do so, without fear of giving mortal offence to Mr. Gammon.
At the moment of the reader's being reintroduced to Mr. Gammon, that gentleman was sitting, about nine o'clock in the evening, at his chambers, beside a table, on which were placed a lamp, a number of papers, and coffee. In one hand he held the rough draft of his rent-charge, which had that day been sent to him by Mr. Frankpledge, and he was occasionally making pencil memoranda on the margin as he went along. He would sometimes pause in his task, as if his thoughts wandered to other subjects; his countenance looked harassed, his ample brow seemed laden with anxiety. Certainly, great as was his energy, clear as was his head, and accustomed as he was to the despatch of business of even the most difficult and varied description, all his powers were at that moment taxed to their very uttermost stretch, as a hasty glance round the room would have satisfied the reader. On the sofa lay several piles of loose papers. First, there were the draft briefs—and voluminous they were—which he was now preparing, or rather settling, in the following actions for bribery penalties, coming on for trial at the ensuing Yorkshire assizes:—
| "Wigley | v. | Gammon, (S. J.)"[9] |
| "Same | v. | Mudflint, (S. J.)" |
| "Same | v. | Bloodsuck, (S. J.)" |
| "Same | v. | Woodlouse, (S. J.)" |
All these serious actions were being pushed forward with great vigor, at the instance of Lord De la Zouch, who had, moreover, directed them all to be made special jury causes.
Secondly, a monstrous mass of papers, also lying on the sofa, contained the heterogeneous elements, out of which it required a head as clear as Gammon's to draw up a brief for the defence in a very complicated case of conspiracy—"The King v. Middleton Snake, and Others,"—and which was coming on for trial at the ensuing King's Bench sittings for London; it having been removed, on account of its great difficulty and importance, by certiorari[10] from the Old Bailey. It ought to have been by this time prepared; yet Mr. Gammon had scarcely even looked at the papers, though the credit of their office was at stake, as the case had attracted a large share of public attention.
Thirdly, there were scattered about threatening masses of documents connected with the various joint-stock companies in which Mr. Gammon was concerned, either openly or secretly—either professionally or as a shareholder; the management of many of them requiring infinite vigilance and tact. These matters, however, and many others which had accumulated, till the bare thoughts of them oppressed and distracted him, he had altogether neglected, absorbed as he was by the pursuit of Miss Aubrey, and the consummation of his schemes and purposes respecting Titmouse and the Yatton property. As if all this had not been sufficient occupation for him, there was yet another of a totally different description. He was writing a series of very popular and powerful attacks in the Sunday Flash, upon a certain Tory ex-Minister—in fact, endeavors to write him down—and this with the privity, and even occasional assistance, of one whom Gammon intended, in due time, to make great use of, as soon as his Lordship should have sufficiently committed himself thus, and otherwise; viz. my Lord Blossom and Box. Now, Gammon had for three weeks running disappointed the numerous readers of the Sunday Flash, during which period, also, he had been almost baited to death upon the subject by old Quirk, the chief proprietor of the paper; and that very evening, the odious Viper, its editor, had been there, as it were, writhing and hissing about him till he had given a positive pledge to prepare an article against the ensuing Saturday. All these things put together, were enough for one strong-headed man to bear up against, and Gammon felt very nearly overwhelmed; and the reader will think it very excusable in Mr. Gammon, that he felt such difficulty in commanding his thoughts even to the interesting task of settling the draft of his own rent-charge on the Yatton property. He was not quite satisfied with the way in which Frankpledge had tinkered up the "consideration" shadowed forth in Gammon's instructions, and was just sketching off one compounded of a "certain sum of five thousand pounds of good and lawful money of Great Britain, by the aforesaid Oily Gammon, at or before the execution of these presents, paid to the said Tittlebat Titmouse, and the receipt whereof the said Titmouse thereby acknowledged, and from the same and every part thereof, released and discharged the said Oily Gammon, his heirs, executors, administrators and assigns" (!!!) and also "of the great skill, and exertion, and sacrifices of the said Oily Gammon, for and on behalf of the said Tittlebat Titmouse, in and in respect of the recovery of the Yatton property," &c. &c.
I say he had just finished off this little matter, and was varying one or two of the expressions, when a sharp knock at his door announced the arrival of the intelligent grantor of the aforesaid annuity, Mr. Titmouse himself, whose stylish cab was at that moment standing opposite to the entrance to Thavies' Inn, in Holborn, having brought him direct from the House of Commons, whither, however, he was to return by eleven o'clock, till which time he had paired off, in order to enable him to come and consult Mr. Gammon on one or two important matters. Poor Titmouse had conceived, since his memorable interview with Gammon, formerly related, a violent hatred of Mr. Gammon; but which was almost absorbed in his dread of that gentleman, who had such unlimited power over him. The sudden and serious diminution of his income by Gammon's rent-charge, almost turned his head upside-down, and occasioned a pother in his little bosom, which was all the greater for his being unable to admit any sympathizing friend into his confidence. He had become fidgety and irritable to a degree; his countenance and demeanor troubled and depressed; from all which, the more intimate among his brother senators naturally inferred that he had lost large sums at play, or was harassed by his election expenses; or had quarrelled with his mistress, or been found out by his wife; or been kicked, and dared not call out the aggressor; or that some other such accident as frequently happens to young gentlemen of fashion, had befallen him. Now, to be candid with the reader, Titmouse certainly was getting into rather deep water. Formidable creditors were beginning to look somewhat sternly after him from various quarters; his upholsterer was becoming troublesome; his wine-merchant insisted on at least four hundred pounds on account; Messrs. Jimcrack and Nicknack were surprised at having received no payment for sundry expensive articles of jewelry and vertu. His coach-maker, his tailor, a host of household creditors, were getting very restless; he had a running account of some £600 or £800 at the Gliddington, in respect of his Parliamentary and other dinners at that fashionable establishment; his yacht was a dreadful drain upon him; he had been unfortunate in his sporting speculations; in short, if Gammon had his anxieties, so had Titmouse his. He felt himself getting terribly out at elbows—so much so, that he could no longer give that calm and undivided attention to his Parliamentary duties, which his enlightened constituents had a right to expect at his hands: and in short, the sole occasion of his calling on Gammon, was to see if that gentleman could devise some mode of once more replenishing his empty coffers—a further mortgage on the Yatton property being the exact mode of doing so, which he was about to propose to Gammon. It required some tact, however, as he felt, to broach that subject in the present position of affairs; so he avowed that he had called to see if Mr. Gammon's deeds were ready for signing—as he, Titmouse, was anxious to get it off his mind. Time was very precious with Mr. Gammon; he therefore lost not a moment in plucking aside the thin disguise of Titmouse, and discovering the real object of his visit. Mr. Gammon looked very serious indeed, on hearing the account of Titmouse's prodigal expenditure, and remonstrated with him earnestly, and even authoritatively; but it instantly occurred to him—could there possibly be a better opportunity for broaching the subject of the two promissory notes?
"My dear Titmouse," said he, with great kindness of manner, "notwithstanding all I have felt it my duty to say, I do sincerely wish it were in my power to serve you in this emergency. But we really must spare old Yatton for a little—you've sadly burdened her already;—we shall be killing the goose to get at the golden egg, if we don't mind what we're about!"
"——! But what the devil's to be done, Mr. Gammon? For, 'pon my soul, I'm most particular hard up, and something must be done."
"We must bethink ourselves of our other resources, my dear Titmouse!—let us see"—he paused, with his hand resting on his forehead for a few moments—"Oh! by the way—certainly," he added suddenly—"but no! it's a thousand pities; but my word is pledged."