To assist in the execution of her plan Miss Fry, who was the life and soul of the conspiracy, had the help of a barrister named Reynolds, “who, notwithstanding his expertness in the pettifogging finesse of the low law, could not preserve himself from an ignominious exhibition in the pillory”; a rough known as Broad; and, of course, Scott.
When everything was arranged, Miss Fry brought an action against Cagliostro to recover £190, the writ for which was served by Reynolds, apparently by bribing the sheriff’s officer. Thus armed, he proceeded to Cagliostro’s house accompanied by the others, and while he explained to the amazed Count, who had never seen him before, the object of his visit and the authority for what he did, Scott and Broad broke into the laboratory, where they found and took possession of the manuscript and the note-of-hand for the two hundred pounds the Count had lent Miss Fry, who during these highly criminal proceedings had the shrewdness to “wait on the stairs” without. Reynolds then conducted Cagliostro to a sponging-house, from which he was released the following day by depositing with Saunders, the sheriffs officer, “jewels worth three or four hundred pounds.”
The conspirators, however, baffled by the release of Cagliostro, from whom they had obtained nothing but the note-of-hand and the manuscript, of which they could make neither head nor tail, at once renewed their persecution. This time they procured a warrant for the arrest of both himself and his wife on the charge of practising witchcraft. The fact that it was possible to obtain a warrant on so ridiculous a charge, which both those who made it, as well as the official by whom the warrant was granted, were perfectly aware would be dismissed with contempt the moment it was investigated, explains how easy it was, under the corrupt and chaotic state of the legal system of the period, to convert the protection of the law into a persecution. Indeed, unauthenticated though they are, none of the legal proceedings in which Cagliostro was now involved are improbable. On the contrary their probability is so great as almost to guarantee their credibility.
By a bribe—for it can scarcely be termed bail—Cagliostro and his wife escaped the inconvenience of being taken to jail before the investigation of the charge on which they were apprehended. Seeing that their victim was not to be terrified, his persecutors tried other tactics. Reynolds was deputed to persuade him, if possible, to explain the system by which he predicted the winning numbers. But Cagliostro indignantly refused to gratify him when he called, whereupon Scott, who had remained without the door, his ear glued to the key-hole, perceiving that the eloquence of Reynolds failed to produce the desired effect, suddenly burst into the room, and “presenting a pistol to the breast of the Count, threatened to discharge it that instant unless he consented to reveal the secrets they demanded.”
This species of bluff, however, was equally futile. Cagliostro regarded the bully and his pistol with contemptuous composure—particularly as he did not discharge it. He assured him that nothing was to be accomplished by solicitations or threats, but as he desired to be left in peace he was ready “to think no more of the note-of-hand they had robbed him of, and would even let them have the effects he had deposited with Saunders, the sheriffs officer, on condition the proceedings against him were dropped and the manuscript returned.”
Seeing there was no better alternative, Reynolds and Scott decided to accept the proposition, and immediately went with Cagliostro to Saunders’ house to settle the matter. But Saunders, realizing that Cagliostro’s troubles were due to his gullibility, ignorance of English, and apparent fortune, was tempted to reserve the plucking of so fat a bird for himself. He accordingly advised the Count not to compromise the matter, but to bring in his turn an action for robbery against the crew of sharpers into whose power he had fallen. Cagliostro was easily induced to accept this advice, and with the aid of Saunders procured four warrants for the arrest of Scott, Reynolds, Broad, and Miss Fry. The last, however, aware that the charge against her could not be substantiated, as she had not personally been present at the time of the robbery, made no attempt to escape, and was taken into custody—from which, as she had foreseen, she soon freed herself. As for the other three, perceiving that the game was up, they took time by the forelock and disappeared while they had the chance.
But Cagliostro had yet to realize what a vindictive fury he had to deal with in Miss Fry. The two actions she had instituted against him had not been quashed, as she took care daily to let him know in ways studiously calculated to render the reminder particularly harassing. Saunders, with whom he had now become intimate, was “much concerned at this persecution, and repeatedly advised him to take an apartment in his house.”
Now little as Cagliostro was acquainted with English customs, he was not so ignorant, as he himself confesses, as not to understand that such a proposition was “singular”; but as Saunders had been kind to him, “kept his carriage,” and appeared in every way worthy of respect, the Count, being desirous of purchasing tranquillity, without hesitation accepted the invitation.
Because no Englishman would have done so, and it appears absurd to picture even a foreigner passing six weeks of his own accord in a sponging-house, the visit Cagliostro now paid to Saunders is generally regarded as anything but voluntary. But how much more absurd is the assertion of the Editor of the Courier de l’Europe—the only other source of information beside Cagliostro in regard to these proceedings—that the Count was “constrained from poverty” to reside with Saunders! Even if foreigners in distress would be likely to seek refuge in a sponging-house, is it at all likely that they would be admitted just because of their poverty?
“I occupied,” says Cagliostro, “the finest apartment in the house. There was always a seat at my table for a chance comer. I defrayed the expenses of the poor prisoners confined there, and even paid the debts of some, who thus obtained their freedom.” Of these, one “Shannon, a chemist,” is quoted by him as being ready to testify to the truth of the statement. Be this as it may, after six weeks Cagliostro once more returned to his rooms in Suffolk Street to the “sensible regret of Saunders.”