But scarcely had he arrived when he was served for the third time with a writ issued at the instigation of Miss Fry for “a debt of £200.” At the instance of Saunders, an Italian merchant named Badioli was induced to be his surety. Saunders, whose interest in his affairs was inspired by the profit he calculated on deriving from them, also recommended him to engage as counsel to defend him a certain Priddle whom Cagliostro had met in the sponging-house. Thus supported, and conscious of innocence, he awaited his trial with comparative composure.
The case came on in due course at the King’s Bench, but Priddle, discovering that it was to be tried by Lord Mansfield, whom he dared not face, backed out of it altogether. Left without counsel at the last moment, Cagliostro was driven in desperation to defend his cause himself. As his knowledge of English was very imperfect, he was obliged to have an interpreter, and, none other apparently being available, he employed Vitellini. But as Vitellini, either owing to excitement caused by the responsibility he was suddenly called upon to assume, or to an equally imperfect knowledge of English, could not make himself understood, Lord Mansfield, to avoid further confusion, and perceiving from the charge of witchcraft that the case was trivial, suggested a compromise and recommended a Mr. Howarth as arbitrator. To this proposal Cagliostro was compelled, and Miss Fry was only too glad, to consent.
The first thing Howarth had to decide was Miss Fry’s first claim to £190, which she alleged she had lent the Count. As she had no proof whatever to advance in support of her claim, it was at once set aside. The charge of witchcraft was also with similar expedition dismissed as “frivolous.”
In her attempt to substantiate her other claim to £200, Miss Fry and her witness Broad very nearly perjured themselves. They both asserted that the money had been expended “in purchasing sequins” for Cagliostro. Questioned by Howarth as to how he had obtained the sequins, Broad replied that he had “bought them of a merchant whose name he could not recollect.” At this Howarth, whose suspicions were naturally aroused by such a reply, observed that “it must have been a very large amount of sequins to represent £200, and he did not believe any merchant would have such a quantity on hand.” Broad hereupon declared he had not bought them of one merchant, “but of about fourscore.” But on being pressed by Howarth he could not remember the names or places of abode of any of them.
Nor could Miss Fry assist him to disentangle himself. She stated that “a Jew of whose name she was ignorant had brought the sequins to her.” After this there was nothing for Howarth to do but dismiss the charge, which he did with “a severe reprimand.” Miss Fry, however, was not to be beaten without a further effort. She demanded that the necklace should be returned to her, which she declared she had only lent to the Countess. To this Cagliostro saw fit to protest, but as Vitellini failed to express his reasons intelligibly, Howarth came to the conclusion that the necklace at least belonged to Miss Fry. He therefore ordered the Count to return it to her, and pay the costs of the arbitration into the bargain.
This decision, however, by no means put an end to the troubles of Cagliostro.
Whether at his own request, or by order of Howarth, he seems to have been given a few days in which to conform to the ruling of the arbitrator. But Badioli, his surety, no sooner learnt the result of the case than, dreading lest Cagliostro should decamp and leave him to pay the costs and compensate Miss Fry, he resolved to release himself from his obligations by surrendering the Count. Keeping his intention a profound secret, he paid a friendly visit to Cagliostro, and at the close carried him off for a drive in the park. “On their way,” says an anonymous author of the only contemporary book in defence of Cagliostro, “they alighted at a judge’s chambers, where Mr. Badioli said he had business to settle. They then again entered the coach, which in a short time stopped before an edifice of which the Count was ignorant. However, his companion entering, he followed his example; when Mr. Badioli, making a slight apology, desired him to wait there a few minutes, saying which he left him.
“Minutes and hours elapsed, but no Mr. Badioli appeared. The Count then endeavoured to return through the door at which they had entered, but found himself repulsed, though he was ignorant of the cause. He remained till evening in the greatest agitation of mind, roving from place to place, when he attracted the observation of a foreigner, who having heard his story, and made the necessary inquiries, informed him that he was a prisoner in the King’s Bench.
“Two days had elapsed before the Countess was able to obtain any information concerning him.”
IV