“I guess it was rather too far for his carriage to go from home,” replied the officer.
“Fellow!” cried Mr. Martindale, “I want none of your fool’s prate.”
“Perhaps not,” replied the man; “you seem to have enough of your own.”
“Silence, you puppy! do you know who you are speaking to? I will not put up with this insolence in my own house. This is my own house; I built it: every article in it is mine.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied the officer, “I did not know you: but I will immediately explain.…”
“If you will have the goodness, sir, to step this way,” interrupted Oliver, “perhaps my master may be returned by this time. I will tell you all the particulars.”
Mr. Martindale had kept this fellow a long while in his employment, and had estimated his fidelity by his treachery, forgetting that they who have a double game to play make a double profit upon it; for while the old gentleman had been bribing him to betray the young one, the young one had been paying him to deceive the old one: so that by this double diplomacy Oliver had become, to use a phrase of Dr. Johnson’s, “a very pretty rascal.” By deceiving both parties he had injured both; but they had only themselves to thank for it. Had they been simple enough to follow the old maxim, that honesty is the best policy, they would both have gained their ends more effectually: the elder Martindale would have experienced from the younger greater deference and confidence, and the younger Martindale would have experienced from the elder a greater degree of liberality.
On the present occasion, it never for a moment entered the mind of the old gentleman that the sheriffs’ officers could be at Brigland Abbey on any serious professional engagement. It may indeed be asked, if he did not think that, what was he thinking of? What, indeed! That is a question which he himself could not answer. Having however no suspicion of what was really the case, he was the more easily drawn away by the crafty Oliver from the impending explanation which was threatened by the officer.
Having thus drawn Mr. Martindale away from the immediate explanation which was just coming upon him, Oliver’s next concern was to construct something of a plausible story to account not only for the presence of the officers at the Abbey, but for their rude behaviour, which to his mind appeared totally insoluble on any other theory than that of their being in possession by virtue of their office. To acknowledge this truth appeared to him as the most effectual means to bring ruin on himself and his master. As soon, therefore, as he had conducted the old gentleman into the library, he began to apologise for the presence and rudeness of these men; and Mr. Martindale being removed from the sight of those who had excited his anger, began to grow a little more cool, and was better prepared to hear explanation. Fortunately for Oliver and his master, the curiosity of the old gentleman was not so strongly excited by the presence of the officers as by the absence of the Hon. Philip Martindale. He therefore very easily believed the story which the trusty butler invented, that these officers had been on a visit to one of the servants, and that they were rather intoxicated; but the difficulty to be solved was the absence of the master of the house, and his travelling with post-horses and a hired chaise. Now Mr. Oliver would have been utterly unworthy of his place and occupation as a professional tell-tale and a hired spy, had he been unable to invent, or unready to utter, a most wilful, deliberate, and glorious lie. Having therefore disposed of the difficulty of the presence of the officers, he went on very deliberately to say:
“Did not my master call at the cottage this morning? I am sure he intended to do so; but perhaps he was too early. I think he must have called, but perhaps you were not stirring, sir.”