As for Mr. Titmouse, thefortunate(!) possessor of ten thousand a-year—as thousands, with a sigh of envy, regarded him—the uninitiated who had an opportunity of watching his public motions, gave him credit for feeling very deeply the melancholy bereavement which he had sustained in the loss of the Lady Cecilia; but thosemore intimately acquainted with his family circumstances, could not help remarking one little ingredient of pleasure in his recent cup of bitterness; viz. that as Lady Cecilia had left no offspring—no dear pledge of affection—Mr. Titmouse was not only saved a vast deal of anxiety as to the bringing up of the child, but had become himself heir-apparent to the barony of Drelincourt, on the death of the Earl of Dreddlington; who, whatever might be the effect of his whispered misfortunes in his pecuniary speculations, had not the power, being merely tenant for life under the entail, of injuring the fortune annexed to the title. Though Mr. Gammon loathed the very sight, the very thought, of Titmouse, he was yet the centre of prodigious anxiety to Gammon, who felt that he had, at all events at present, a deep stake in the upholding, to the world, of Mr. Titmouse's position and credit. He had been frightened by Gammon into a state of the most abject submission to all his requirements—one of which was, the preservation of that external decorum, when in public, which had produced the very favorable impression already adverted to. The other was—a vast contraction of his expenditure. Mr. Gammon insisted upon his disposing of his house in Park Lane—which had, indeed, been for months almost destitute of furniture, that having fallen a prey to divers of his execution-creditors—but engaged for him a suit of handsome furnished apartments in Chapel Street, May Fair, allowing him the attendance of a valet, as usual; and also hiring for him a cab, tiger, groom, and a couple of saddle-horses, with which Mr. Titmouse contrived to make an appearance, before so much of the world as was left in London during the autumn, suitable to his station. Some of the more clamorous of his creditors, Mr. Gammon had contrived to pacify by considerable payments on account, and a solemn assurance that every one of Mr. Titmouse's debts was intrain for rapid liquidation. Could his creditors, indeed—Gammon asked—fail to see and judge for themselves, what an altered man, in his person and habits, Mr. Titmouse had become, since the shock he had received on the death of Lady Cecilia? Had, indeed, he felt never so disposed to re-enter the scenes of gay and expensive profligacy in which he had revelled so madly during the first eighteen months after his extraordinary exaltation; there was a serious obstacle to his doing so, in his having neglected to pay divers heavy "debts of honor," as they are strangely called; for which delinquencies he had twice had his nose pulled in public, and once been horsewhipped. The gates of the sporting world were thus finally closed against him, and thus was at least one source of profligate expenditure shut out. Though, however, he was free to ride or drive whithersoever he chose—and that, too, as became a man of fashion, in respect of appearance and equipment—he felt but a prisoner at large, and dependent entirely upon the will and pleasure of Mr. Gammon for his very means of subsistence. Most of his evenings were spent in such of the theatres as were open, while his nights were often passed amid scenes which were very strange ones indeed for a young widower to be seen in! Though he was a frequent visitor at Brookes', I must nevertheless do that respectable club the justice of saying, that its members were not very anxious for the presence or company of Mr. Titmouse. In fact, but for the continued countenance afforded to him, for reasons best known to that gentleman, by Mr. O'Gibbet, my friend would have been, some time before, unceremoniously expelled from the club, where he had made, certainly, one or two exceedingly disagreeable exhibitions. Liquor was made for fools to get drunk with, and so shorten their encumbering existence upon the earth; and as forTitmouse, I really do not think he ever went to bed completely sober; and he avowed, that "whenever he was alone, he felt so miserable;" and there was only one way, he said, which he knew of to "drive dull care away." Though aware of it in point of fact, Titmouse had neither sense nor sensibility enough to appreciate the fearful frailty of that tenure by which he held his present advantages of station—never reflecting that he was liable at any moment to be precipitated down from his elevation, into far deeper obscurity and poverty than he had ever emerged from! He had no power of enhancing his enjoyment of the present, either by vivid contrast with the past, or with the possible reverses of the future. A wealthy and profligate fool is by no means the enviable person he may appear to silly lookers-on; but what must he be when placed in the circumstances of Titmouse? He found town, at a dull season—the fall of the year to be sure—become daily duller, the sphere of his enjoyments having become so miserably contracted; and Mr. Gammon more and more stern and gloomy; in fact, Titmouse always dreaded to go near him, for he enjoined on Titmouse, whenever they met, a circumspection which was new and intolerable. He was refused admission at Lord Dreddlington's; the Duke of Tantallan's he dared not go near. When, in the Park, he met the earl's chariot—a dismal object indeed to him—driving slowly along—all in deep mourning—the place of Lady Cecilia occupied now by Miss Macspleuchan, and the shattered old white-haired man beside her, taking evidently no notice of anything about him; if Titmouse caught Miss Macspleuchan's eye, it was instantly removed, as from a disgusting object. He never met that carriage without a shudder, and a violent one, at thought of the frightful fraud of which he had been at first the unconscious instrument, but to which he was now a consenting party. He had earnestly besought Mr. Gammon toallow him to spend a few months on the Continent, and provide him with funds to do so; but on due consideration, Mr. Gammon refused, in the very critical conjuncture of existing circumstances—at all events till he should have been furnished with some clew to the course which the pending investigation was taking. But Mr. Gammon consented to his going down to Yatton; so down he went, but to encounter only sullen faces; servants whose wages were in arrear; tenants whom his exactions were ruining; the friends of Mudflint and Bloodsuck indignant at his not coming forward to rescue them from impending destruction; and his constituency furious at the number of bills remaining unpaid; at his total disregard of their interests in Parliament; and his contemptible and ridiculous conduct and appearance there, which had made them the laughing-stock of the nation. As for any of the nobility or gentry of the neighborhood, of course their notice of him was quite out of the question. From good little Dr. Tatham, even, he could get nothing more than a cold and guarded civility; in fact, Mr. Titmouse was fifty times more miserable at Yatton than he had been in London; and, moreover, the old Hall had been completely stripped of the handsome furniture that had been put into it on his coming into possession, by his voracious execution-creditors; and all he could do here to enjoy existence, was to smoke, and drink brandy and water. He felt an impostor; that he had no right to be there; no claim to the respect or attention of any one. Through the noble grounds of Yatton, amid the soft melancholy sunshine of October, he walked, frightened and alone; a falling leaf alighting on him would make him start with apprehension, and almost drop his cigar. While such was the dreary aspect of things at Yatton, what was the condition of Mr. Gammon in London?
It is not possible that any one who betakes himself to tortuous modes of effecting his purposes, and of securing the objects which a keen ambition may have proposed to him, can behappy. The perpetual dread of detection and failure, causes him to lie, as it were, ever writhing upon a bed of torture. To feel one's selffailing, irretrievably, in spite of deeply-laid, desperate, and dishonorable schemes for securing success, is sickening and miserable indeed. One in such circumstances feels that the bitterness of disappointment will not be mitigated or assuaged by a consciousness of the sympathy and respect of those who have witnessed the unsuccessful attempts—a thought which is deadening to the soul; and Gammon felt himself among the most miserable of mankind. All other anxieties were, however, at present absorbed in one—that concerning the issue of the inquiry then pending; and which, as it were, darkened his spirit within him, and hung round his neck like a millstone. If the issue of that investigation should be adverse—he had absolutely nothing for it but instant flight from universal scorn and execration. Of what avail would then have been all his prodigious anxieties, sacrifices, and exertions, his deep-laid and complicated plans and purposes? He would have irretrievably damned himself, for what? To allow the wretch Titmouse to revel, for a season, in unbounded luxury and profligacy! What single personal advantage had Mr. Gammon hitherto obtained for himself, taxed to their utmost as had been his powerful energies for the last three years? First of all, as to Miss Aubrey, the lovely object of his intense desires—what advance had he made towards the accomplishment of his objects after all his profound and cruel treachery against her brother? Not a hair's-breadth. Nay, on the contrary, the slight footing of intimacy which he had contrived, in the first instance, to secure, he had now lost forever. Could they have failed to perceive, in spite of all his devices, his relentless hand in the recentpersecution of Mr. Aubrey? The stern deportment of Mr. Runnington, who had expressly prohibited Mr. Aubrey from all communication with Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, except through Mr. Runnington himself—spoke volumes. Moreover, Mr. Gammon had chanced to be prowling about Vivian Street on the very evening on which Lord De la Zouch made his unexpected appearance with Mr. Aubrey, as already described; and Gammon had seen Mr. Aubrey, Mrs. Aubrey, and Miss Aubrey, followed by his Lordship, enter his carriage in dinner-costume; and he thought with a violent pang of one Mr. Delamere! He had also ascertained how suddenly his Lordship had come over from Paris—just at that crisis in the circumstances of the Aubreys; and how probable was it, that his Lordship's potent interference had originated the formidable proceedings of the ecclesiastical court! And suppose the result of them should be, to detect the imposition by means of which Titmouse had been enabled to oust Mr. Aubrey from Yatton—what mustshe—what must they all—think of Mr. Gammon, after his avowal to Miss Aubrey? Inevitably, that he had either originally contrived, or, having long since discovered, was now conniving at, the imposture! And what if she really were now all the while engaged to the future Lord De la Zouch? And if the present Lord De la Zouch, with his immense revenues, were resolved to bear Mr. Aubrey through all his difficulties and troubles with a high hand? Had not Gammon already felt the power of Lord De la Zouch in the late accursed bribery actions? And imagining his Lordship to have been stimulated to set on foot the pending proceedings, by the communication of Miss Aubrey concerning Mr. Gammon's own admissions to her—was his Lordship likely to falter in his purposes?
Look again at the financial difficulties which were thickeningaround him. Between sixty and seventy thousand pounds had been already raised on mortgage of the Yatton estates!—and not a shilling more could now be obtained without additional and collateral security, which Gammon could not procure. Then there was the interest payable half-yearly on these mortgages, which alone swallowed up some £3,500 annually. In addition to this, Titmouse was over head-and-ears in debt; and he must be supported all the while in a manner suitable to his station; and an establishment must be kept up at Yatton. How, with all this, was Mr. Gammon's own dearly bought rent-charge to be realized? The already overburdened property was totally unequal to bear this additional pressure. Again, if his motion, which was to be made in the ensuing term for a new trial in the case ofWigleyv.Gammon, should fail, there he was left at the mercy of the plaintiff for a sum very considerably exceeding £3,000 (including the heavy costs,) and capable of being immediately enforced by incarceration of his person, or seizure of his goods! Mr. Gammon, moreover, had been unfortunate in some gambling speculations in the funds, by which means the money he had so quickly made, had been as quickly lost. It was true, there were the probable proceeds of the two promissory notes now put in suit against Mr. Aubrey, and also the bond of Lord De la Zouch himself, in all amounting to twenty thousand pounds, with interest: but months must necessarily elapse before, even in the ordinary course, the actions for the recovery of these sums could be brought to a successful issue—to say nothing of any disastrous occurrence which Gammon could just conceive the possibility of, and which might have the effect of fatally impugning the right of action of Mr. Titmouse. Gammon had repeatedly turned in his mind the propriety of raising money by assignment of the bond of Lord De la Zouch, but for several reasons had deemed it inexpedient to venture upon such a step. Forinstance, the bond would be due within a month or two; and who would advance any serious sum on so large a security, without rigorous inquiries into the original validity of the instrument, and into the right of the obligee to put it in suit. Supposing the issue of the ecclesiastical inquiry to be adverse, and Titmouse's title to the Yatton property to be destroyed; would not that at once invalidate his claims upon the bond, and also upon the two promissory notes—at all events in equity? Lastly, his hopes of political advancement, to which he clung with incredible tenacity, full blooming though they had been till the moment of his being sued for the bribery penalties, were all in danger of being blighted forever, unless he could succeed in defeating the verdict during the ensuing term, of which he entertained scarce any expectation at all. But even supposing him successful there—what was to become of him if the issue of the pending ecclesiastical proceedings should brand him as abetting imposture of the most gross and glaring description—nay, as being in fact its originator? Once or twice, during his frequent agitating reviews of all these events and circumstances, he caught, as it were, a ghastly glimpse of a sort of system ofRETRIBUTIONin progress—and was able to trace evil consequences—of defeat and misery—from every single act which he had done!
Success or failure in the ecclesiastical suit, was now in fact the pivot upon which everything turned with Mr. Gammon—it would be either his salvation, or his destruction; and the thought of it kept him in a state of feverish trepidation and excitement, from morning to night—rendering him almost wholly incapable of attending to his professional business. He had gone down several times, accompanied by Mr. Quod, to ascertain, as far as was practicable, the course which things were taking. Mr. Quod wasvery sanguine indeed as to the issue; but, alas! Gammon had not ventured to tell him the true state of the case: so that Quod naturally confined himself to the substantiating of Mr. Titmouse's pedigree, as it had been propounded, and with success, at the trial of the ejectment. Mr. Gammon trembled at the systematic and vigorous prosecution of the cause on the part of Mr. Aubrey; what might it not elicit? Regardless of the consequences, he had several times tried to discover from those who had been examined, the course of inquiry which had been pursued, and the evidence which had been obtained from them—but in vain: some of the witnesses were in a station of society which repelled his advances; and others were effectually deterred from communicativeness by the injunctions of the commissioner. Thus Mr. Gammon could ascertain nothing—and was left to await, in fearful suspense, the legitimate issue of this tantalizing and mysterious process, till the day when both parties should be put in possession of all the evidence which had been obtained.
The prospects of the Aubreys, brightened though they had been by the sudden interference of Lord De la Zouch at the very moment of their deepest gloom, did not disturb that calm and peaceful course of life which they had maintained through all their troubles. Oh, how animated and happy, however, was now that little family!—and that, not through any overweening confidence as to the result of Lord De la Zouch's operations on their behalf, but from a pious and cheerful persuasion that they were not forsaken of Heaven, which had given this token of its remembrance. The beautiful bloom began to reappear on the cheeks both of Mrs. Aubrey and Kate, and the eye of Mr. Aubrey was no longer laden with gloom and anxiety. He pursued the study of the law with steadfast energy till the period of Mr. Mansfield's quitting town, and his chambers being closedtill the beginning of November. The Aubreys, poor souls! secretly pined for a glimpse, however brief, of the pleasures of the country; and about the middle of September, they, sure enough, received a very pressing invitation from Lord and Lady De la Zouch, for all of them to join them in France, by way of a total and enlivening change of scene. Mrs. Aubrey and Kate had all but persuaded Mr. Aubrey into an acceptance of the kind suit, when he suddenly bethought himself of what he deemed an insuperable obstacle. It will be borne in mind that Mr. Aubrey had given bail to a very large amount, nearly sixteen thousand pounds, in the two actions at the suit of Mr. Titmouse, and of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap; and, on inquiry, two of the friends who had become surety for him were abroad and could not be communicated with; so Mr. Aubrey peremptorily refused, under such circumstances, to quit the country, though for never so brief an interval. On seriously assuring Lord De la Zouch that there existed insuperable objections to his just then leaving England, the ever-active kindness of his noble friend prompted a fresh proposal,—that they should, within a week's time, all of them, set off for a lovely residence of his Lordship's in Essex, some fifteen miles from town, called Tunstall Priory—where they would find everything fully prepared for their reception, and where they were earnestly entreated to remain till they should be joined by their host and hostess from France, about the latter end of October. 'T is quite impossible for me to describe the exhilaration of spirits with which, the invitation having been most gratefully accepted by Mr. Aubrey, they all prepared for their little journey. Mr. Aubrey had made arrangements for their going down by one of the coaches, which went within a couple of miles of the Priory; but here again the thoughtful delicacy and kindness of his Lordship was manifest; for theevening before they set off, one of the servants from Dover Street came to ask at what hour they would wish the carriage to call for them, and the van for their luggage—such being the orders which had come from his Lordship; and further, that the carriage was to remain at their command during the whole of their stay at the Priory. Both Mrs. Aubrey and Kate, in their excitement, burst into tears on hearing of this additional trait of anxious and considerate attention. Oh! it would have cheered your heart, good reader, to see the blithe faces, and bounding spirits, with which that little family set off on the ensuing morning on their little expedition. Oh! how refreshing was the country air!—how enlivening and beautiful the country scenery amid the gentle sunlight of September!—'T was a Paradise of a place—and as day after day glided away, they felt a sense of the enjoyment of existence, such as they had never experienced before!
Though it is not a very pleasant transition, the order of events requires us to return to town, and to no very pleasant part of town, viz. Thavies' Inn. 'T was about eight o'clock in the evening, towards the close of October, and Mr. Gammon was walking to and fro about his room, which was rendered sufficiently snug by the light of a lamp and the warmth of a good fire. He himself, however, was very far from being cheerful—he was in a state of exquisite anxiety and suspense—and might well be; for he was at length in momentary expectation of receiving a copy of the evidence which had been taken on the part of Mr. Aubrey, in the ecclesiastical suit. He muttered blighting curses at the intolerable delay of old Mr. Quod, who, Mr. Gammon felt assured, might have procured a copy of the evidence several hours before, with only moderate exertion. Twice had his messenger been despatched in vain; and he was now absent on the third errand to Mr. Quod's chambers. At length Mr.Gammon heard a heavy footstep ascending the stairs—he knew it, and, darting to the door, opened it just as his messenger had reached the landing with a bulky white packet under his arm, sealed, and tied with red tape.
"Ah!—that will do. Thank you, thank you!—call to-morrow morning," said Gammon, hastily, almost snatching the packet out of the man's hand.
"Mrs. Brown—don't let me be disturbed to-night by any one—on any earthly consideration," said he, with feverish impetuosity, to his laundress; and, having ordered her to close the outer door, he re-entered his sitting-room, and with a beating heart burst open the seals, tape, and cartridge-paper, and fastened in an instant with devouring eyes upon the pregnant enclosure. Over page after page he glanced with lightning speed, his breathing unconsciously accelerated the while. When he had got to about the middle of the evidence, his breath was for a minute suspended, while his affrighted eye travelled down a couple of pages, which told him all—all he had feared to see, and more—more than he had known himself. "Ah, perdition—the game is up!" he faintly exclaimed, and, rising from his chair, threw himself down upon the sofa, in a state of dismay and bewilderment which no words of mine are powerful enough to describe.
Quite as much anxiety had been felt on the same subject in a different quarter, during the whole of the day, at the Priory; where were still the Aubreys, who had been joined a week before by Lord and Lady De la Zouch, and by Mr. Delamere, who had come over with them from the Continent. Mr. Runnington had written to assure Mr. Aubrey, that the first moment of his being able to procure a copy of the evidence, he would come down with it in a post-chaise and four. As, however, nine o'clock elapsed without his havingmade his appearance, Mr. Delamere slipped out, and without announcing his intention, ordered his groom to have his horses in readiness instantly; and within a quarter of an hour's time he was on his way to town, having left a hasty verbal message, acquainting Lord and Lady De la Zouch of the object of his sudden move. When he reached Mr. Runnington's offices, he found no one there, to his infinite disappointment. Having slept in Dover Street, he reappeared at Mr. Runnington's about ten o'clock the next morning, and found a chaise and four at the door, into which Mr. Runnington, with a large packet under his arm, was in the very act of entering, to drive down to the Priory.
"How is it—for God's sake?" said Mr. Delamere, rushing forward to Mr. Runnington, who was sufficiently surprised at seeing him.
"Oh, thank God! The battle's ours!"—replied Mr. Runnington, with delighted excitement. "The murder's out!—I'll pledge my existence that within three months' time we have them all back at Yatton!"
"You'reoffinstantly, are not you?" inquired Delamere, his face blanched with emotion.
"To be sure—won't you come with me?" replied Mr. Runnington.
"Rattle away, my lads, and here's a guinea a-piece for you!" shouted Delamere to the post-boys—and the next moment they were on their way, and at indeed a rapid pace. In somewhere about an hour and a quarter's time, the reeking horses and dusty chaise dashed up to the hall-door of the Priory; and, as Delamere caught one or two figures standing at the windows, he waved his hand in triumph through the chaise-window. That brought Lord and Lady De la Zouch and Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey, breathless to the door—out jumped Delamere, without waiting for the steps to be let down, and, grasping the hands of all four, exclaimed withenthusiasm—"Victory!—victory!—but where is she—?"
"Miss Aubrey's somewhere in the grounds, sir," replied a servant.
"Mr. Runnington will tell you all"—said Delamere; and springing off the step, was out of sight in a twinkling, in quest of Miss Aubrey—burning to be the first with the joyful news. He soon caught sight of her graceful figure—she was standing with her back towards him, apparently in a musing posture, gazing at the bubbling rivulet. Hearing his bounding steps, she turned round, and started at seeing him.
"Oh, Kate, Kate!" he stammered breathlessly, "by Heaven, we've won!"—Miss Aubrey turned very pale.
"Mr. Delamere—you—you—cannot be—Ihopeyou are not mistaken"——said she, faintly.
"On my sacred word of honor, I have seen—I have read it all myself! 'T is as sure as that the sun is shining—The game is up with the villains!" Miss Aubrey made him no answer; her cheek continued white as that of a statue; and it was absolutely necessary that he should put his arm around her—if he had not, she would have fallen.
"Come!—Come! My sweet, my lovely Kate! Rouse yourself!" cried he, with fond anxiety, and pressed his lips gently on her forehead—a liberty of which she was probably not conscious, for she made no show of resistance. Presently she heaved a deep sigh, her eyes opened, and, finding herself entirely in his embrace, she made a slight effort to disengage herself, but in vain. He was supporting her on one knee—for there was no bench or seat within view. She burst into tears, and they soon relieved her pent-up bosom of its excitement.
"Dearest—sweetest Kate—it's glorious news, and I have been too hasty with it!" said he, excitedly.
"No—no—Mr. Delamere! I am only overpowered with joy and with gratitude! Oh, Mr. Delamere, I could sink out of your sight!"
"Pho! my own angel!—Don't make me miserable by talking in that strain!"
"Well, whatshallI say?" cried she, passionately, bursting again into tears, and turning her face from him, conscious that it was reddening.
"Say, Kate? That you will let me love you, and will love me in return! Come, my own Kate! Heaven smiles on you—smile you onme!" She spoke not—-but sobbed, her face still averted from him.
"I know you won't say me nay, Kate, if it's only for thenewsI've brought you express"—said Delamere, ardently, and imprinted a passionate kiss on her unresisting lips.
"My sweet Kate! how I have thought of you in every part of the world in which I've been"—commenced Delamere, after having a second and a third and a fourth time pressed his lips upon those of his beautiful and blushing mistress; and Heaven only knows what other absurdities he might have been guilty of, when to Kate's inconceivable embarrassment, behold, a sudden turn brought them full in view of Lord and Lady De la Zouch and Mr. Runnington.
"My dear, dear Miss Aubrey," cried Lord De la Zouch, "we have come to congratulate you on this great event!" and he grasped her affectionately by the hands, and then Lady De la Zouch embraced her future daughter-in-law, whose cheeks burned like fire, while those of Mr. Delamere tingled a little.
"Upon my honor, sir, you seem to have been making hay while the sun shines," said his Lordship, in a low tone, and laughing, having left Miss Aubrey and Lady De la Zouch together for a few moments.
"Dearest Lady De la Zouch, how did Charles bear it?" inquired Miss Aubrey.
"He bore it with calmness, though he turned very pale; but poor Mrs. Aubrey was very painfully excited—it was really a most affecting scene. But she is much better now—shall we return to the house?—By the way," added she, slyly, "now you'recome into your fortune, as the saying is, Kate—I—I suppose—eh?—Geoffrey has been talking nonsense to you!" Poor Kate blushed deeply, and burst into tears.
That was a happy—happy day; and Mr. Runnington, having been compelled to stay to dinner, returned home at a late hour feeling already richly repaid for all his exertions. Miss Aubrey sat up for at least a couple of hours in her own room, writing, according to a promise she had made, a very long letter to Dr. Tatham; in which she gave him as full an account as she could, of the surprising and decisive event which had just happened. 'T was quite the letter of a daughter to a fond father—full of ardent affection, and joyous anticipations of seeing him again; but as to the other little incident of the day, which concerned herself personally, Kate paused—laid down her pen—resumed it—blushed—hesitated—trembled—and at length extinguished her taper, and retired to rest, saying to herself that she wouldthinkof it, and make up her mind by the morning.
The letter went off, however, after all, without the slightest allusion to the possibility of its lovely writer becoming a future Lady De la Zouch.
But it is now high time that the reader should be put into possession of the important disclosures produced by the ecclesiastical inquiry; and we must for a while lose sight of the happy Aubreys, and also of the gloomy, discomfited Gammon, in order to become acquainted with the exact state of facts which had called forth such violent and opposite emotions.
The reader may possibly bear in mind that Mr. Titmouse had established his right to succeed to the Yatton property, then enjoyed by Mr. Aubrey, by making out to the satisfaction of the jury, on the trial at York, that he, the aforesaid Mr. Titmouse, was descended from an elder branch of the Aubrey family; that there had existed an unsuspected female descendant of Stephen Dreddlington, the elder brother of Geoffrey Dreddlington, through whom Mr. Aubrey derived his claim to the succession; and that this obscure female descendant had left issue equally obscure and unsuspected—viz. Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse—to whomourfriend Titmouse was shown to be heir-at-law. In fact, it had been made out in open court, by clear and satisfactory evidence,First, that the aforesaid Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse was the direct descendant, through the female line, of Stephen Dreddlington;Secondly, had been shown the marriage of Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse;Thirdly, the birth of Tittlebat Titmouse, the first, and indeed the only issue of that marriage. All these were not only proved, but unquestionable facts; and from them, as far asdescentwent, the preferable right of Titmouse to that of Aubrey, resulted as an inevitable inference, and the verdict went accordingly. But as soon as, owing to the happy and invaluable suggestion of the Attorney-General, a rigid inquiry had been instituted,on the spot, whence the oral and documentary evidence had been obtained by Mr. Gammon—an inquiry conducted by persons infinitely more familiar with such matters than common lawyers, those acute andindefatigable inquisitors succeeded in making the following remarkable discovery. It was found that the two old witnesses who had been called to prove that part of the case, on the trial, had since died—one of them very recently. But in pushing their inquiries, one or two other old witnesses were met with who hadnotbeen called by Mr. Gammon, even if he had been aware of their existence; and one of these, an old man, while being closely interrogated upon another matter, happened to let fall some expressions which startled the person making minutes of the evidence; for he spoke of Mr. Titmouse's mother under three different names,Gubbins,Oakley, andJohnson. Now, the proof of the trial had been simply the marriage of Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse, by bans, to Janet Johnson,spinster. Either, then, both the witnesses must be mistaken as to her having had other names, or there must be some strange mystery at the bottom of it—and so it at length turned out. This woman's maiden name had been Gubbins; then she had married a rope-maker, of the name of Oakley, in Staffordshire, but had separated from him, after two or three years' quarrelsome cohabitation, and gone into Yorkshire, where she had resided for some time with an aunt—in fact, no other person than old Blind Bess! She had subsequently become acquainted with Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse; and to conceal the fact of her previous marriage—her husband being alive at the time—she was married to Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse under the name of "Johnson." Two years afterwards, this exemplary female died, leaving an only child, Tittlebat Titmouse. Shortly afterwards his father came up to London, bringing with him his little son—and some five years subsequently died, leaving one or two hundred pounds behind him for the bringing up of Tittlebat decently—a duty undertaken by a distant relative of his father, and who had been dead some years.Of course, Titmouse, at the time when he was first presented to the reader, knew no more than did the dead of his being in any way connected with the distinguished family of the Aubreys in Yorkshire; nor of the very unpleasant circumstances attending his mother's marriage, with which the reader has just been made acquainted. Nothing can be easier than to conceive how Mr. Gammon might have been able, even if acquainted with the true state of the facts, to produce an impregnable case in court, by calling, with judgment, only that evidence which was requisite to show the marriage of Titmouse's father with Janet Johnson—viz. an examined copy of an entry in the parish register of Grilston; of the fact of the marriage under the names specified; and some other slight evidence of the identity of the parties. How was the Attorney-General, or any one advising him, to have got at the mystery attending the name of "Johnson," in the absence of suspicion pointed precisely at that circumstance? The defendant in an action of ejectment is necessarily in a great measure in the dark as to the evidence which will be adduced against him, and must fight it as it is presented to him in court; and the plaintiff's attorney is generally better advised than to bring into court witnesses who may be able, if pressed, to disclose more than is necessary or desirable!
The way in which Mr. Gammon became acquainted with the true state of the matter, was singular. While engaged in obtaining and arranging the evidence in support of the plaintiff's case, under the guidance of Mr. Lynx's opinion, Mr. Gammon stumbled upon a witness who dropped one or two expressions, which suddenly reminded him of two little documents which had been some time before put into his possession without his having then attached the least importance to them. He was so disturbed at the coincidence, that he returned to town that very night to inspect the papers inquestion. They had been obtained by Snap from old Blind Bess: in fact, (inter nos,) he had purloined them from her on one of the occasions of his being with her in the manner long ago described, having found them in an old Bible which was in a still older canvas bag; and they consisted of, first, a letter from one James Oakley to his wife, informing her that he was dying, and that, having heard she was living with another man, he exhorted her to leave her wicked courses beforeshedied; secondly, a letter from one Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse to his wife, reproaching her with drunkenness and loose conduct, and saying that she knew as well as he did, that he could transport her any day he liked;[17]therefore she had better mind what she was about. This letter was written in the county jail, whither he had been sent for some offence against the game-laws. Old Blind Bess had been very feeble when her niece came to live with her; and, though aware of her profligate conduct, had never dreamed of the connection between the great family at the Hall and her niece's child. These were the two documents which Mr. Titmouse had destroyed, on Gammon's having intrusted them for a moment into his hands!—Though I do not attach so much importance to them as Mr. Gammon did—since I cannot see how they could have been made available evidence for any purpose contemplated by Gammon—I am not surprised athishaving done so. They were infinitely too dangerous documents to admit of his taking the opinion of counsel upon; he therefore kept them entirely to himself, as also the discovery to which they led, not trusting his secret, even to either of his partners. Before the case had come into court, Mr. Gammon had been in possession of the facts now laid for the first time before the reader—contemplating, even then, the use to be thereafter made of the prodigious power he should have become possessed of, in aid of his own personal advancement. Thuswas Titmouse base-born indeed—in fact, doubly illegitimate; for, first, his mother had been guilty of bigamy in marrying his father; and, secondly, even had that not been so, her marrying under a false name[18]had been sufficient to make the marriage utterly void, and equally of course to bastardize her issue.
Such, then, was the damning discovery effected by the ecclesiastical commission, and which would by-and-by blazon to the whole world the astounding fact, that this doubly base-born little wretch had been enabled, by the profound machinations of Mr. Gammon, not only to deprive Mr. Aubrey of the Yatton estates, but also to intermarry with the Lady Cecilia, the last of the direct line of the noble Dreddlingtons and Drelincourts—to defile the blood, and blight the honor, of perhaps the oldest and the proudest of the nobility of England. Upon Mr. Gammon, it lit like a thunderbolt. For many hours he seemed to have been utterly crushed and blasted by it. His faculties appeared paralyzed. He was totally incapable of realizing his position—of contemplating the prodigious and appalling consequences which must inevitably and almost immediately ensue upon this discovery of his secret. He lay upon the sofa the whole night without closing his eyes, or having moved a muscle since he had thrown himself down upon it. His laundress came in with his bed-candle, trimmed the lamp, stirred the fire, and withdrew, supposing him asleep. The fire went out—then the lamp—and when, about eight o'clock the next morning, his laundress reappeared, he still lay on the sofa; and a glimpse of his pale and haggard face alarmed her greatly, and she went for a medical man before he was aware of her having done so. On her returning, and informing him of what she had done, it roused him from his lethargy, and, starting from the sofa, he desired her togo back and request the medical man not to come, as it was unnecessary. Heaving profound sighs, he proceeded to his dressing-room, got through his toilet, and then sat down to the breakfast-table, and for the first time made a very powerful effort to address his thoughts steadily to the awful nature of the emergency into which he was driven. Mr. Quod soon after made his appearance.
"This is avery—very—ugly business, Mr. Gammon!" quoth he, with a gloomy countenance. "I look upon it there's an end to the suit—eh?"
"It is not likely that we shall stir further, certainly," replied Mr. Gammon, with a desperate effort to speak calmly: then there was a pause.
"And I should think the matter can't endhere," presently added Mr. Quod. "With such evidence as this, of course they'll attack Yatton!"
"Then I am prepared to resist them," said Gammon; convinced in his own mind that the sole object of Mr. Quod's visit was to see after the payment of his bill—a reasonable anxiety, surely, considering the untoward issue of the proceedings.
"How could all this have escapedme, in getting up the case for the trial?" said Gammon, after a while, darting an anxious and furtive glance at his companion.
"Ay—I hope this will teach you common-law fellows that there's a trick or two worth knowing at Doctor's Commons!" replied Mr. Quod. "D'ye remember what I told you at starting?—How was it, d'ye say, you couldn't find it out? No one could, till we did!—But, by the way, do we fight anymore in the cause? Because we must decide at once—it's no use, I should say, going to the expense of a hearing"——
"I will give you an answer in the course of the day, Mr. Quod," replied Gammon, with an air of repressed fury; and succeeded ingetting rid of his matter-of-fact but anxious visitor for the present; and then reperused the whole of the evidence, and considered within himself, as well as he was able, what course he ought to pursue. He had need, truly, to do so; for he very shortly found that he had to deal with an enemy in Mr. Runnington—uncompromising and unrelenting—whose movements were equally prompt, vigorous, and skilful. That gentleman, following up his blow, and acting under the advice of Sir Charles Wolstenholme, who had just returned to town for the commencement of the legal year—viz. Michaelmas Term—first of all gave notice, through Mr. Pounce, of his intention to proceed with the suit for administration; but found that the enemy in that quarter had struck; Mr. Quod formally notified his abandonment of opposition on the part of Mr. Titmouse. So far so good. Mr. Runnington's next step was to go down into Staffordshire and Yorkshire, accompanied by Mr. Pounce, and by his own experienced confidential clerk, in order to ascertain still more distinctly and conclusively the nature of the evidence which was in existence impeaching the legitimacy of Mr. Titmouse. His inquiries were so satisfactory, that, within a week of his return to town, he had caused an action of ejectment to be brought for the recovery of the whole of the Yatton property; and copies of the "Declaration" to be served on Mr. Titmouse, and on every tenant in possession upon the estate. Then he served notices on them, calling upon each and every one of them not to pay rent in future to any one except Charles Aubrey, Esquire, or his agents by him lawfully appointed; and caused a formal demand of the title-deeds of the estate to be forthwith made upon Mr. Titmouse, Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son, and Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap; and also advertisements to be inserted in the newspapers, to caution all persons against advancing money onmortgage or on other security of the Yatton property, "formerly in possession of, and now claimed by, Charles Aubrey, Esq., but at present wrongfully held by Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., M.P., and for the recovery of which an action of ejectment has been commenced, and is now pending;" and also from advancing money "on the faith or security of a certain bond conditioned in the penalty of £20,000 for the payment to Tittlebat Titmouse of £10,000, with interest, on or before the 24th day of January next, and dated the 26th July, 18—, and signed by Lord De la Zouch and Charles Aubrey, Esq., the same having been obtained by undue means, and on a false and fraudulent pretence of money being due from the said Charles Aubrey, Esq., to the aforesaid Tittlebat Titmouse." These advertisements, and certain paragraphs relating to the same matter, which found their way into the newspapers, to the consternation of Gammon, came under the eye of the Duke of Tantallan, and struck him dumb with dismay and horror at so decisive and public a corroboration of his worst fears. A similar effect they produced upon Miss Macspleuchan, who, however, succeeded in keeping them for some time from the observation of the unfortunate Earl of Dreddlington. But there were certain other persons in whom these announcements produced an amazing degree of consternation; viz. three Jewish gentlemen,Mordecai Gripe,Mephibosheth Mahar-shalal-hash-baz, andIsrael Fang, who were at present the depositaries of Mr. Titmouse's title-deeds, with a lien upon them, as they had fondly imagined, to the extent of nearly seventy thousand pounds—that being the amount of money they had advanced, in hard cash, to Mr. Titmouse, upon mortgage of his Yatton estates. The last of these unfortunate gentlemen—old Mr. Fang—had advanced no less a sum than twenty thousand pounds. He had been the first applied to, and had most fortunately taken a collateral securityfor the whole sum advanced; viz. a bond—the bond of our old friend, "Thomas Tag-rag, draper and mercer, of No. 375 Oxford Street, and Satin Lodge, Clapham, in the county of Surrey." As soon as ever the dismayed Israelite, by his attorney, had ascertained, by inquiry at the office of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap—where all was confusion—that there really was a claim set up to the whole of the estates, on behalf of him who had been so recently and suddenly dispossessed of them, he exclaimed in an ecstasy, "Oh, ma Got! oh, madearGot! Shoo Tag-rag! Shoo on the bond! Looshe no time"——and he was obeyed. Terrible to tell, two big bum-bailiffs the next day walked straight into the shop of Mr. Tag-rag, who was sitting in his little closet at the farther end, with his pen in his hand, busily checking some bills just made out, and without the least ceremony or hesitation hauled him off, hardly giving him time to put his hat on, but gruffly uttering in his ear some such astounding words as "Thirty thousand pounds!" He resisted desperately, shouting out for help; on which all the young men jumped over the counters, and seemed to be coming to the rescue! while one or two female customers rushed affrighted into the street. In short, there was a perfect panic in the shop; though the young men merely crowded round, and clamored loudly, without venturing upon a conflict with the two burly myrmidons of the law, who clapped their prize into a coach standing opposite—Mr. Tag-rag frothing at the mouth, and with impassioned gesticulation, protesting that he would have them both transported to Botany Bay on the morrow. They laughed at him good-humoredly, and in due time deposited him safely in the lock-up of Mr. Vice, who, on seeing that he was disposed to be troublesome, thrust him unceremoniously into the large room in which, it may be recollected, Mr. Aubreyhad been for a few minutes incarcerated, and left him, telling him he might write to his attorney. There he continued for a long while in a state bordering on frenzy. Indeed, he must have fancied that the devil had made it, just then, his particular business to worry and ruinhim; for what do you think had happened to him only two days before? an event which had convulsed Clapham to its centre—so much, at least, of Clapham as knew of the existence of the Tag-rags and the Reverend Dismal Horror, his chapel and congregation. That young shepherd of faithful souls having long cherished feelings of ardent fondness towards one gentle lamb in his flock in particular—viz. Tabitha Tag-rag—who was the only child of the wealthiest member of his little church—took upon himself to lead her, nothing loath, a very long and pleasant ramble—in plain English, Mr. Dismal Horror had eloped with the daughter of his head deacon—to the infinite scandal and disgust of his congregation, who forthwith met and deposed him from his pulpit; after which his father-in-law solemnly made his will, bequeathing everything he had to a newly-established Dissenters' college; and the next day—being just about the time that the grim priest of Gretna was forging the bonds of Hymen for the happy and lovely couple before him, Mr. Tag-rag was hauled off in the way which I have mentioned—which two occurrences would have the effect of enabling Mr. Dismal Horror to prove the disinterestedness of his attachment—an opportunity for which he vowed that he panted—inasmuch as he and she had become, indeed, all the world to each other. He must now go into some other line of business, in order to support his fond and lovely wife; and, as for Tag-rag, his pious purposes were frustrated altogether. There was no impeaching the validity of the bond held by the infuriate and inexorable Jew who had arrested him, and who clearlyhad been no party to any fraud by which—if any—the signature of Mr. Tag-rag had been procured. Mr. Tag-rag's attorney, Mr. Snout, instantly called upon Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, to inquire into the particulars of the astounding transaction by which his client had been drawn into so ruinous a liability—but was very cavalierly treated; for he was informed that Mr. Tag-rag must, in their opinion, have lost his senses—at all events his memory; for that he had most deliberately executed the bond, after its nature had been fully explained to him by Mr. Gammon—and his signature was witnessed and attested in the usual way by a clerk in the office, and also in the presence of all the three partners. On hearing all this—and examining Mr. Amminadab, who stated without any hesitation, as the fact in truth was, that he had been called in specially to witness Mr. Tag-rag's execution of the bond, and had seen and heard him sign,[19]and say he delivered it as his act and deed—Mr. Snout hurried back to his frenzied client, and endeavored, for a long while, with praiseworthy patience, to reason with him; explaining to him the glaring improbability of his version of the affair. This led to very high words indeed between them, and at length Mr. Tag-rag actually spit in his face. Mr. Snout, being a very little man, and unable to resent the vile insult effectually, instantly quitted the room, expressing his firm belief that Mr. Tag-rag was a swindler, and he would no more be concerned for a person of that description. Mr. Tag-rag could not procure bail for so fearful an amount; so he committed an act of bankruptcy, by remaining in prison for three weeks. Down, then, came all his creditors upon him in a heap, especially the Jew; a rattling bankruptcy ensued—the upshot of the whole being—to anticipate, however, a little—that a first and final dividend was declared of three farthings in the pound—for it turned out thatfriend Tag-rag had been, like many of his betters,speculatinga great deal more than any one had had the least idea of. I ought, however, to have mentioned that, as soon as he had become bankrupt, and his assignees had been appointed, they caused an indictment to be preferred against Mr. Titmouse, and Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, for fraud and conspiracy in obtaining the bond from Mr. Tag-rag; and on the same grounds, made an application, fortified by strong affidavits, to the Lord Chancellor, to strike the last three gentlemen off the rolls. In addition to all this, the two other unfortunate mortgagees, Mordecai Gripe, and Mephibosheth Mahar-shalal-hash-baz—who had no security at all for their advances except the title-deeds of the estate, and the personal covenant of Mr. Titmouse—beset the office in Saffron Hill from morning to night, like frantic fiends, and nearly drove poor old Mr. Quirk out of his senses. Mr. Snap was peremptory and insolent; while Gammon seldom made his appearance—and would see no one at his private residence, pleading serious indisposition.
After anxious reflection, Mr. Gammon did not absolutely despair of extricating himself from the perils with which he was personally environed. As for certain fond hopes of political advancement, after which, indeed, his soul had so long pined, he did not even yet abandon the hope of being able to prevail on his friend at headquarters—to whom he had undoubtedly rendered considerable political services at no little personal risk—to overlook the accident which had befallen him, in the adverse verdict for the bribery penalties, even should he fail in his motion to defeat that verdict in the ensuing term. He had had indeed, a distinct intimation, that—that one obstacle removed—a very important and influential situation under government was within his reach. But, alas! this last overwhelming misfortune—how could he possibly evade or surmount it? What human ingenuity or intrepidity couldavail to extricate him from the consequences of his insane avowal to Miss Aubrey—and his counter-statements to the Duke of Tantallan and Miss Macspleuchan—to say nothing of the Earl of Dreddlington? He resolved to risk it—to rely on his own resources, and the chapter of accidents. The mere presence of difficulty strung his nerves to encounter it. He resolved to rely on the impossibility of fixing him directly with a knowledge of the rottenness of Titmouse's pretensions—at all events, till a period considerably subsequent to the trial, and Titmouse's marriage with the Lady Cecilia. It occurred to him, as calculated, moreover, to aid his contemplated movements, if he could find a fair pretext for throwing overboard his partners, especially Mr. Quirk—satisfied that his own uniform caution had prevented him from committing himself to them—or at least had deprived them of means of proving it. He very soon met with an opportunity, of which he promptly availed himself.
Some week or ten days after the commencement of the term, Mr. Quirk was walking down Parliament Street, on his way to the Court of King's Bench, hoping, among other things, to hear the court say whether they would grant or refuse a rulenisifor a new trial, in a certain cause ofWigleyv.Gammon, which had been moved for on the first day of term by Sir Charles Wolstenholme, and which Lord Widdrington had said the court would take a day or two's time to consider. Mr. Quirk's eye caught the figure of a person, a few steps in advance of him, whom he fancied he had seen before. In a few minutes' time, the old gentleman was covered with a cold perspiration; for in a young man, about thirty years old, decently dressed—thin, sallow, and wearing a very depressed air—Mr. Quirk recognized Mr.Steggars—a gentleman whom he had imagined to be at that moment comfortably settled, and for some ten years yet tocome and unexpired, at Botany Bay! This was the individual, it may be recollected, whose execrable breach of trust, when a clerk of Mr. Parkinson's at Grilston, had led to Mr. Quirk's discovery of the infirmity in Mr. Aubrey's title. The fact was, that Mr. Steggars had quitted England, as the reader may recollect, horribly disgusted with Mr. Quirk's conduct towards him; and had also subsequently experienced some little remorse on account of his own mean and cruel conduct towards a distinguished gentleman and his family, none of whom had ever given him the slightest pretext for hostility or revenge. He had contrived to make his feelings upon the subject known to an official individual at Botany Bay, who had given him an opportunity of explaining matters fully to the authorities at home—the principal of whom, the Home Secretary—had been, and indeed continued to be, a warm personal friend of Mr. Aubrey's. This minister caused inquiries to be made concerning Steggars' behavior while abroad, which were so satisfactorily answered as to procure a remission of the remainder of his sentence, just as he was entering upon his fourth year's service at Botany Bay. Immediately on his return—which had taken place only a few days before the commencement of Michaelmas Term—he sought out Mr. Aubrey's attorneys, Messrs. Runnington, and put them fully in possession of all the facts of the case, relating to Mr. Quirk's grossly dishonorable conduct in obtaining and acting upon a knowledge of the supposed defect in Mr. Aubrey's title. Upon Mr. Quirk's coming alongside of this gentleman, and looking at him with a most anxious inquisitiveness, he encountered a fearfully significant glance—and then Mr. Steggars, in a very pointed and abrupt manner, crossed over the street for the purpose of avoiding him. Mr. Quirk was so dreadfully disconcerted by this occurrence, that instead of going on to court, where he would have heard Mr.Gammon's rule for a new trialrefused, he retraced his steps homeward, and arrived at the office just as a clerk was inquiring for him; and who, on seeing him, put into his hands the following startling document, being a"Rule"which had been granted the day before, by the Court of King's Bench:—
"On reading the Affidavit ofJonathan Steggars, the affidavits of James Parkinson and Charles Runnington, and the paper-writing marked A, all thereunto annexed, It isORDEREDthat Caleb Quirk, Gentleman, an attorney of this Honorable Court, do, on Wednesday next, in this present term, show cause why he should not forthwith deliver up to Charles Aubrey, Esquire, the deeds and documents specified in the paper-writing thereto annexed, marked A,and also, why he should not answer the matters contained in the said Affidavits.[20]Upon the motion of Sir Charles Wolstenholme."By the Court."
"On reading the Affidavit ofJonathan Steggars, the affidavits of James Parkinson and Charles Runnington, and the paper-writing marked A, all thereunto annexed, It isORDEREDthat Caleb Quirk, Gentleman, an attorney of this Honorable Court, do, on Wednesday next, in this present term, show cause why he should not forthwith deliver up to Charles Aubrey, Esquire, the deeds and documents specified in the paper-writing thereto annexed, marked A,and also, why he should not answer the matters contained in the said Affidavits.[20]Upon the motion of Sir Charles Wolstenholme.
"By the Court."
"Oh Lord!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, faintly, and, sinking into his chair, inquired for Mr. Gammon; but, as usual, he had not been at Saffron Hill that day. Giving orders to Mr. Amminadab to have copies taken immediately of the affidavits mentioned in the rule, Mr. Quirk set off for Mr. Gammon's chambers, but missed that gentleman, who he learned, had gone to Westminster. The next day Mr. Gammon called at the office, but Mr. Quirk was absent; on going, however, into the old gentleman's room, Mr. Gammon's eye lit on the above-mentioned "rule," and also on the affidavits upon which it had been granted. Having hurriedly glanced over them, he hastily replaced them on the desk, as he had found them, and repaired to his own room, greatly flustered—resolved to wait for Mr. Quirk's arrival, and appear to be informed by him, for the first time, of the existence of the aforesaid formidable documents. While he was really buried in a revery, with his head resting onone hand and a pen in the other, his countenance miserably pale and harassed, Mr. Quirk burst hastily into his room with the rule and affidavits in his hand.
"Oh Lord, Gammon! How are you, Gammon?" he stuttered. "Haven't seen you this age!—Where have you been? How are you, eh?" and he grasped very cordially the cold hand of Mr. Gammon, which did not return the pressure.
"I am not very well, Mr. Quirk; but—you seem agitated!—Has anything fresh hap"——
"Fresh?—Ecod, my dear Gammon! Fresh, indeed! Here's anewenemy come into the field!—D——d if I don't feel going mad!—Look, Gammon, look!"—and he placed the rule and affidavits in Mr. Gammon's hands, and sat down beside him.
"What!—Answer the matters in the affidavit?" quoth Gammon, amazedly.—"Why, what have you been doing, Mr. Quirk? And—who upon earth is—Jonathan Steggars?"
"Who's Steggars!" echoed Mr. Quirk, stupidly.
"Yes, Mr. Quirk—Steggars. Who is he?" repeated Gammon, intrepidly.
"Steggars, you know—Gammon! You recollect Steggars, of course—eh?" inquired Mr. Quirk, with an apprehensive stare—"Steggars;Steggars—you know! eh? You don't recollect! Oh, botheration! Come, come, Gammon!"
"Who is he?" again inquired Gammon, somewhat sternly.
"Oh Lud! oh Lud! oh Lud!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, despairingly—"Whatareyou after, Gammon? You don't intend—it can't be—that you're going to—eh?—It's Steggars, you know—we defended him, you know—and he got transported for embezzling that mortgage money ofMr. Parkinson's. You recollect how we got hold of Mr. Aubrey's story from him?" While Mr. Quirk was saying all this with feverish impetuosity, Mr. Gammon appeared to be, for the first time, glancing eagerly over the affidavits.
"Why—good heavens, Mr. Quirk!" said he, presently, with a start—"is it possible that these statements can have the slightest foundation in fact?"
"Ay, drat it—thatyouknow as well as I do, Gammon," replied Mr. Quirk, with not a little eagerness and trepidation—"Come, come, it's rather late in the day to sham Abraham just now, friend Gammon!"
"Do you venture, Mr. Quirk, to stand there, and deliberately charge me with being a party to the grossly dishonorable conduct of which you are here accused upon oath—which, indeed, you admit yourself to have been guilty of?"
"D——d if I don't, Master Gammon!" replied Mr. Quirk, slapping his hand on the table after a long pause, in which he looked completely confounded and aghast. "Why, you'll want, by-and-by, to persuade me that my name isn't Caleb Quirk—why, zounds! you'll drive me mad! You're gone mad yourself—you must be!"
"How dare you insult me, sir, by charging me with conniving at your infamous and most unprofessional conduct?"
"Why—come!" cried Quirk, with a horrible laugh—"You don't know how we first got scent of the whole thing?—Ah, ha! It dropped down from the clouds, I suppose, into our office—oh Lud, Lud, Gammon! it isn't kind to leave an old friend in the lurch at such a pinch as this!"
"I tell you, Mr. Quirk, that I never had the least idea in the world that this wretch Steggars—Faugh! I should have scouted the whole thing! I would rather have retired from the firm!"
"That's it, Gammon! Go on, Gammon! This is uncommonly funny! It is, indeed, aha!" quoth Quirk, trembling violently.
"This is no time for trifling, sir, believe me. Let me tell you thus much, in all candor—that I certainly had, from the first, misgivings as to the means by which you became possessed of this information; but considering our relative situations, I did not feel myself at liberty to press you on the point—Oh, Mr. Quirk, I am really shocked beyond all bounds! What will the profession say of"—
"D—— the profession! What d'ye suppose I must be just now thinking ofyou? Why, you'd make a dog strike its father!"
"I may have been unfortunate, Mr. Quirk—I may have been imprudent; but I have never been dishonorable—and I would not for the whole creation have my name associated with this infernal transac"——
"Come, come—who wanted me to forge a tombstone, Gammon?" inquired Mr. Quirk, glancing very keenly at his friend.
"Wanted you to forge a tombstone, sir!" echoed Gammon, with an astounded air.
"Ay! ay! Forge a tombstone!" repeated Mr. Quirk, dropping his voice, and slapping one hand upon the other.
"Upon my word and honor, Mr. Quirk, I pity you! You've lost your senses!"
"You wanted me to forge a tombstone! D——d if you didn't!"
"You had better go home, Mr. Quirk, and take some physic to clear your head, for I am sure you're going wrong altogether!" said Gammon.
"Oh, Gammon, Gammon! Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Come—honor among thieves! Be honest for once"——