Three Treasures

by Jack Elwin

CHAPTER 10 TWO TREASURES

  AS I DREW near to Dorchester I looked at my clothes and saw that they were muddy and torn—my new doublet was quite ruined. But there was nothing I could do about that until I reached home.

  The soldier guarding South Gate demanded to know my business, but when I told him where I lived in the town, and he saw that the cart looked empty, he let me through. I was soon driving up the narrow alley to the rear of my property, where the pair of high wooden gates opened onto my yard. With difficulty I managed to manoeuvre the horse and cart into the yard, shut the gates, and ran in to see Agnes and the baby, and next moment we were in each other’s arms.

  But then she pushed me away and spoke quite angrily:

  ‘Oh Micah, I’ve been so worried about you. I was afraid you were in danger and trouble!’

  ‘But why? I did warn you I might be away for a night. And here I am, alive and well.’

  ‘But that’s nonsense. Look at the state you’re in! You’ve been in a fight, your face is covered in mud, your new doublet is torn, and what’s that on your shirt?’

  ‘Blood probably, but it’s not all mine, I hope. Yes, I did have a fight, but I’ve come back safe and sound, so you’ve no need to worry.’

  ‘But I do worry. What would I do if you didn’t come back? What would become of Mark and me if you were killed?’

  ‘I love you, my darling. But a man can’t hide away, certainly not in these troubled times. I don’t intend to be killed, and will do my best not to be. But do remember that in my work I meet death every week in some form or other. I’m as likely to die of fever or the plague as from fighting.’

  ‘There! you’re making it worse,’ she cried. ‘Why can’t you stay home and be sensible? Look at your clothes and your face!’

  Then I did look at myself in a glass and was shocked by what I saw. My clothes were in a worse state than I had thought, and most would have to be thrown away. And with the blood and mud on my face I looked like a desperado.

  ‘My dear,’ I said, ‘I must see to the horse that brought me home and then I’ll clean myself up and come and tell you all about my adventures. Please don’t let’s quarrel now I’m home. I can tell you, I’m mightily relieved to be here, and I love you dearly.’

  I went out to the yard to unharness the horse, and led him into the stable. I gave him some water and, when I had washed my face, went to a neighbour down the lane to beg some hay and oats. Then I went indoors to wash more thoroughly and put on clean clothes. Only then was I able to sit down to a meal with Agnes and tell her what I had seen and done.

  I felt I must not tell her all my adventures, for she would worry too much, but I told her what I could, and made light of the dangers I had been through. I described the lazy surgeon who seemed to spend his time lying on his back in his tent, and poor Dickon and his mishaps, and how the Cavaliers had so surprised the Portland Roundheads—so that we spent the evening laughing a great deal, though I was afraid she was still inclined to be angry with me for taking unnecessary risks.

  Finally I said, ‘My darling, you took me for better or worse, and as you cannot change me you will have to put up with me. I shall always try not to cause you anxiety, but I can’t promise anything. All I can say is that so far I’ve been lucky, and have managed to come out of tricky situations unhurt. Or at least not badly hurt,’ I added, for by now I was feeling stiff and bruised in various places.

  I had intended to examine the cart that evening, but after I had eaten and sat talking with Agnes for some time, I found I was so tired that I had to go straight to bed, and was soon in a deep sleep.

  Next morning I felt refreshed, put on clean (but old) clothes, and went early to see to the horse. I was sorely tempted to keep him, for he was a strong grey with a good nature, and would, I knew, be very useful to me in my work. But he was not mine, and ought to go to Mr Perrin to replace the one he had lost, though I suspected this was a better animal than the one the soldiers stole.

  I then turned to the cart, and felt a pang of anxiety: suppose, after all my efforts and dangers, the treasure was not there! Quickly I wrenched out the wooden pegs and moved to the tail-end of the cart to raise the floor. And there to my relief, packed in rough sacking to prevent it rolling about, was a bag tied with a cord. I loosened this and looked inside: there were a lot of coins of gold and silver, two or three pearl necklaces, a silver gilt cup and dish, and some other pieces of jewellery, all carefully packed in with paper. Lawrence Huatt was a richer man than I had thought!

  I packed the things carefully again and retied the bag and took it with its treasures into the house. Then I fixed the floor of the cart back in place and drove in the pegs to hold it. I did not want Lawrence to be left a moment longer without knowing his good fortune, so after breakfast I took the bag down to his house.

  ‘Why, Micah,’ he said, ‘I thought you were away.’

  ‘I was, and on the track of your treasure,’ I said, ‘see what I’ve found,’ and handed him the bag. For a moment he was speechless. He took it as if he was dazed, staggered to a chair and sat down. He wiped his forehead and stared at the bag and then at me. At last he found his voice.

  ‘My dear days, my good Lord, I mean,’ he said, ‘however did you do it, Micah? I asked you to find it, I know, but I never really thought you would or could. Wherever was it? Had it really been taken by soldiers, or did Perrin have it all along?’

  ‘Oh yes, soldiers had taken it,’ I said, ‘Mr Perrin told me the truth in the end. I followed it all the way to Portland, and have brought it all the way back.’

  ‘How was that?’ he asked. ‘Hadn’t they undone the bag?’

  ‘No, it was in Mr Perrin’s cart, so when they stole that they took the treasure too.’

  ‘But how could they take the cart without seeing what was in it?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask Mr Perrin to explain that to you,” I said, for I remembered that Perrin was reluctant to tell Mr Huatt the secret of his cart. They would have to sort out that between them. ‘Suffice to say,’ I went on, ‘by some amazing chances and good luck I was able to find where the cart had been taken, and by more good luck I brought it and your treasure back again.’

  I then told him some of the story, and how I was there when Portland Castle was captured. He kept exclaiming ‘My dear days!’ and ‘Micah, lad, you might have been killed!’ and ‘I never meant you to go into danger like that!’ and ‘Thank the Lord He has brought you back in safety!’ At last he said, ‘I promised to reward you, and that is what I’m going to do. A third of this is yours.’

  ‘No, Lawrence, no,’ I said, ‘that’s too much, for you would have done the same for me, I know.’

  But he insisted, and at last, when I thought of what it would mean to Agnes and me, I accepted, and came away a much richer man than I had ever been before.

  I hid what he had given me under the stone in my yard, and then had to attend to my neglected business. It was not until mid afternoon that I was able to think about returning the cart to Mr Perrin. But at last I closed the shop and harnessed the horse. Again I had difficulty in turning the cart and getting it into the alley, but eventually we set off and had a quiet journey to Monkton. Jacob Perrin was astonished to see me, and all his former churlishness vanished.

  ‘Mr Judd, sir, however did you get this back? I thought so’jers never let go of what they take,’ he said, shaking my hand until it seemed about to drop off. ‘But this is not my hoss. What’s happened to my old nag?’

  I explained to him that the horse had just been picked at random to pull the cart. ‘And if he’s better than the one you lost, that’s your gain. But,’ I added, ‘if I were you I’d paint the cart in different colours. It’s just possible that the soldiers might come looking for it, or recognise it when you’re out somewhere, and take it from you again. But if it’s some drab colour they may not notice it.’

  He agreed that this was a good idea, and then asked, ‘Huatt’s treasure—is it still in there?’

>   ‘No, I returned it to him this morning. I know it caused a breach between you, and that he wrongfully suspected you, but he is sorry about that—and he’s so overjoyed to have it back that I’m sure he would be glad to see you.’

  Mr Perrin gave me a very straight look and said nothing for a bit. At last he said, ‘Well, maybe we’ll have to let bygones be bygones. But he can hide his treasures hisself another time.’

  He then took me by the arm and led me into his tumbledown cottage. A mongrel dog set up a loud barking as I went in, till his master shouted at him and he slunk into the corner, thumping the floor with his tail.

  With an exaggerated air of secrecy Mr Perrin fumbled inside the chimney and drew out a sooty handful of gold coins.

  ‘That’s for bringing the cart back and for the hoss,’ he said. ‘Wait here, sir.’ He climbed a rickety stair and I heard numerous bumping noises above, as if he was pulling the house apart. Then he came down clutching a bottle. ‘An’ that’s for giving Huatt back his goods. ’Tis French brandy, good stuff.’ He thrust the bottle into my hand, then asked, ‘How are ye getting home?’

  ‘I wondered whether you would take me,’ I said, for I still felt rather stiff and bruised after my struggle with Nat.

  ‘Surely,’ he said, ‘an’ I’ll try out this here hoss.’

  We climbed onto the cart and set off, and he dropped me at the top of Durn Lane.

  ‘Do go to see Mr Huatt,’ I said, ‘he’ll be right pleased if you do.’

  He gave a sort of grunt and drove on with a wave, but I heard afterwards from Lawrence that he did pay a visit; and although they would never be particular friends, at least they were on speaking terms again. But apparently Perrin never did tell his brother-in-law exactly where the treasure had been hidden, so neither did I.

  What I did do as soon as I could was to go to see Tom Hartley to ask him to make me new clothes to replace those that had been spoiled. To avoid having to answer his questions I made out that I had liked the first ones so much that I wanted more for best.

  It was now time for me to turn to the question of what was to be done about Mr Dashwood and his wife’s jewellery, and this was a duty I did not relish. I now regretted getting involved in the affair and promising the lady that I would negotiate with her husband without telling him the truth of what she had done. I was afraid that I would land myself in worse trouble, and possibly stir up more strife between the two of them.

  I put it off until the following day, but when it was evening I screwed up my courage and went round to the Dashwoods’ house. I was kept waiting in the hall for a few minutes, and then the old manservant took me up to the drawing room, where Mr Dashwood and his wife were sitting. She turned pale when she saw me, but I bowed to her with a smile, and said, ‘I am glad, madam, to see that you have made such a good recovery.’

  ‘What is your business?’ Mr Dashwood asked in an impatient tone, ‘We have no need of your services, I think.’

  ‘I have not come in my professional capacity, sir, but about that other matter, the one we talked about, and for which you asked me to keep my eyes open,’ I said. ‘I have had some success in that, and I need to confer with you in private.’

  ‘Go upstairs, madam,’ he said to his wife, and without a word she gathered up her embroidery, gave me an anxious glance, and stole from the room.

  ‘Now, sir,’ he said, ‘have you found the thief?’

  ‘Not exactly, sir,’ I replied, ‘but I believe I may be able arrange for you to recover the jewels. I am in a very delicate position, sir, for on the one hand, if I treat with the thieves, though through an intermediary you understand, I could be in danger of being prosecuted for compounding a felony, if you decided to denounce me to the magistrates. But on the other hand, if I don’t treat with the thieves you won’t get the jewels back. And in either case you won’t catch the thieves.’

  ‘But I want to catch the thieves,’ he cried, his voice and colour rising. ‘I want to see them strung up, and if they were helped by someone in my household I want to know who it is.’

  ‘Have you inquired among your servants?’

  ‘Of course I have, what do you take me for? The lazy good-for-nothings—they cover up for each other. They pretend not to have heard or seen or noticed anything.’

  ‘Well, what do you want me to do?’ I asked. ‘Shall I try to negotiate for the return of your jewels, or shall I let them go, and you can call upon the constables to do what they can to catch the thieves.’

  ‘The constables!’ roared Mr Dashwood, ‘they couldn’t catch a thief if he had “ROBBER” branded on his forehead and he sat down in front of them! No, sir, hateful as it is to bargain with thieves, at least by doing so I may make good some of my losses. So if you can do what you say I am willing to try it.’

  ‘You will have to pay to get the jewels back, but nothing like their true value. I suspect the thieves will be glad to see them off their hands for what they can get.’

  ‘How much will they want, do you suppose?’ he asked.

  ‘I shall have to find out, but I will also need to know roughly how much you would be prepared to pay. As I say, I expect the thieves will not be unreasonable in their demands.’

  We talked about the possibilities and agreed a sum.

  ‘I will try to arrange things for less,’ I assured him, ‘but please remember that I cannot guarantee the outcome. I will try to let you know how far I have succeeded—or not as the case may be—within the next few days.’

  He rang the bell, and the manservant led me down the stairs and showed me out. I determined to leave him to wait for several days before I contacted him again. As far as I was concerned there was no hurry, but for Denis’s sake I did not want the affair to drag on too long.

  Denis’s prospects of marrying Elizabeth Whittle still seemed unfavourable, for Nathan Whittle still hoped to find a rich gentleman’s son for his daughter if he could somehow scrape together enough money for a dowry. He may even have dreamt of getting the Dashwoods to change their minds, for he could not really imagine someone finally rejecting his beautiful daughter! He came to my shop in the vain hope that I had found out where his stolen money was.

  ‘I heard you had been away,’ he said, sitting on my stool and leaning on the counter, ‘in fact someone saw you the other day going off with the tranter on the Weymouth road.’

  ‘I did,’ I agreed. ‘Can’t one go anywhere in this town without somebody seeing and telling everyone else about it?’

  ‘And did you find anything?’

  ‘Find your treasure, you mean? No, unfortunately I didn’t. If I had of course I would have come and let you know. What I did find out was that this sergeant who stole it from you—Sergeant Barnby—is dead. Apparently he got drunk and fell into Weymouth harbour and drowned.’

  ‘So what happened to his things? Did his men seize upon them? Did they find my treasure?’

  ‘All he had was shared out by his men.’

  ‘Oh my God! then what has become of my money, and my daughter’s dowry that I had been saving for her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I spoke to some of the sergeant’s men, and they all said he didn’t leave much, certainly no store of gold. So what he did with your money is a mystery. He could have lost it, dropped it in a ditch somewhere—It’s amazing how careless some soldiers are with their spoils —or he could have hidden it somewhere, meaning to come back for it later, perhaps after the war.’

  ‘Are you sure the men told you the truth, and weren’t just saying they didn’t get handed a lot of gold, perhaps for fear of you trying to get it back?’

  ‘No, Nathan, I suppose it’s just possible that they could have been lying to me about it, but I don’t think so. There was no reason for them to lie, because I didn’t tell them I was looking out for the stolen money. At all events, your thief did not live to enjoy his gains.’

  ‘’Tis the Lord’s judgement upon him,’ said Whittle. ‘But it does not help me. I had so hoped to arrange a g
ood marriage for Elizabeth, and I’m danged if I know how I’m to do that now.’

  ‘Do you really call the sort of marriage you had arranged with the Dashwoods “good”? Do you know the kind of young man Nicholas Dashwood is, and what he would have done with your money? I’ll tell you, Mr Whittle: as soon as he got his hands on that dowry he would have used it to pay off his gambling debts, and any over he would have squandered on more gambling and riotous living. Did you really want to see your hard-earned money wasted like that? And what sort of a husband would he have been for Elizabeth?—careless at best, cruel in all kinds of ways; her life would have been a misery. Is that what you wanted for your dear daughter?’

  He looked rather taken aback at my outburst. He twisted his hands and looked at the floor.

  ‘Maybe he is a wrong ’un,’ he said, ‘though I think he would ha’ settled down right enough. But there are other young men of good family, if I could but catch one.’

  ‘Mr Whittle,’ I said, ‘you started poor, and look how you’ve come up in the world. Which is best, to marry some pampered young heir, who’s going to waste his substance like the Prodigal and come down in the world, or to marry an up and coming man who’ll make a success of his life—and be a good husband as well?’

  ‘I know who you’re thinking of,’ he said, ‘but if I had to hand my daughter to him I’d feel I’d failed. Elizabeth met him after church last Lord’s Day, I believe, although I’d told her not to speak to him. I was that angry with her, though she says she couldn’t just brush him aside while she was waiting for me, and now I dare say she keeps thinking about “Denis this” and “Denis that”. But she’ll do what her father tells her, like a dutiful daughter. But I don’t know. I wish her mother were alive: Mary would ha’ known what to do.’

  ‘Did Mary’s father make her marry you?’ I asked.

  ‘Mary’s father? Not him! It was she picked on me and decided she was going to marry me in spite of her father, and nothing he said made any difference. But he came round in the end.’

  ‘Well, there you are,’ I said.

  He stared at me without speaking, then got up to go.

  At the door he paused. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said,’ but I’m not going to give up yet. Anyway, thank you, Micah, for trying to find my money. Do I owe you anything for your trouble?’

  ‘No, no, Nathan, my expenses have been paid for by others, and you’ve lost enough as it is.’

  He thanked me again and added as he went out of the door, ‘Let’s hope, wherever my money is, that it does some good to someone!’

  After a couple of days I went to see Mr Dashwood again, and told him I could arrange the hand-over of his jewels.

  ‘Now Mr Judd,’ he said, ‘this is where I shall take over. I will deal with your go-between myself, and will force him to lead me to the thieves, or at least reveal who they are. You surely didn’t imagine I would let them get away with their crime!’

  I had been wondering whether he would try some such interference, and was ready with my reply.

  ‘I fear you will frighten him off, sir. He is very wary and nervous, and will call off the deal at the slightest sign of danger.’

  ‘I shall catch him,’ said Dashwood. ‘You must meet him as you have arranged, and I and my men will lie concealed nearby and take hold of him as he leaves.’

  ‘I will have no part in this. I am not a go-between for thieves nor a betrayer. If you wish to try to negotiate with them yourself you are welcome, but I will have nothing to do with it.’

  ‘You forget yourself and who you are talking to,’ he said angrily. ‘Where and when have you arranged to meet this man?’

  I had to do some quick thinking. If Mr Dashwood was determined to interfere I would have to send him on a wild goose chase. Well, he deserved some frustration and discomfort.

  ‘You force me very much against my will, Mr Dashwood,’ I said, ‘but I will tell you. We were to meet tomorrow night at about nine o’clock down by the river. The man has had some of the money, and when he hands over the jewels he is to be paid the rest.’

  ‘Then I will go there in good time and when he comes we will catch him. Where exactly were you to meet along the river?’

  ‘You know the bridge just below the old Friary, where Sir Francis Ashley used to live?—between there and the next bridge to the west, below the castle.’

  ‘Good, I can have men hidden by both bridges, and trap him between them. What does he look like?’

  ‘I’ve never seen his face, for he is careful to keep it covered with his hood drawn forward. Look out for a man in a black cloak and hood.’

  ‘Right, tomorrow night at nine we shall be there.’

  ‘But take great care, for the man is very wary indeed, and if he finds that I have let him walk into a trap he will likely call off the whole thing.’

  ‘But he will be in our hands,’ said Dashwood. ‘You’re sure he will have the jewels with him?’

  ‘That is what was agreed. But, as I say, you risk spoiling the whole arrangement.’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ said Dashwood, and dismissed me.

  There was of course no such man in a black cloak, and I imagined Mr Dashwood would have a cold and fruitless wait. I wished I could be there to see him getting more angry and frustrated every minute. Had he been less rude and overbearing I would have felt sorry for him, but I thought that as he was determined to go his own way he must take the consequences.

  Next evening was very wet. I and Agnes had gone to bed when there was a furious banging on our front door. I looked out of the upstairs window and could just make out the shapes of three or four men standing in the rain.

  ‘Who the devil are you, waking honest citizens at this time of night?’ I called. ‘Go away, or I shall summon the watch.’

  ‘It is I, Stephen Dashwood,’ came the reply. ‘We’ve waited two hours in the rain, and your man has not shown up. And we are likely to be in trouble for detaining the wrong man. Have you been deceiving me?’

  ‘I told you the man was wary,’ I said. ‘He must have seen you were lying in wait. What man did you find?’

  ‘A man in a dark cloak, as you said. He made a struggle when we seized him, and although we let him go when we found he hadn’t got the jewels and was a townsman here, he is threatening to have us before the magistrates. ‘

  ‘Well, I cannot help you with that. I told you to leave matters to me, and you wouldn’t. You’ve spoilt it now, and I wash my hands of the whole affair.’

  I shut the window, and saw them slink away in the rain.

  Next morning Mr Dashwood’s secretary came very meekly and asked if I would kindly be pleased to call upon his master. I said I would come when I had finished the work I was doing, and made a point of mixing medicines and preparing a syrup before I went with him. I was sure that Mr Dashwood was the sort of man who would respect me the more for keeping him waiting, even if it also made him angry.

  But I was worried because I was getting so entangled in this web of deceit, although it was in the good cause of returning his property to him without getting his silly wife into more trouble. I could not now tell him the truth even if I had wanted to, but I hoped not to have to tell too many lies. However, now that I was in so far there seemed no alternative but to carry the affair through to its conclusion.

  When I at last went with the secretary to the house Mr Dashwood took me into his private room or closet. I had decided that my best policy was to attack at once.

  ‘You seem to have made a thorough mess of this affair,’ I said. ‘Those involved are not to be caught so easily, and may have been frightened off for good. But if you want me to try again to negotiate the return of your jewels, you must entrust me with the rest of the sum we agreed, and I will see what I can do. I won’t promise anything, but I must ask for your solemn undertaking that you will let me have a free hand, and will not attempt to make an arrest, or have me followed, or in any way to interfere while I am engaged in these delicate negot
iations. Otherwise I will have nothing to do with it, and you will lose any chance of regaining your property.’

  My attack took the wind out of his sails, and whatever he may have been intending to accuse me of remained unsaid. Instead he said gloomily, ‘I shall have to trust you, I suppose.’

  ‘And you won’t attempt to interfere?’

  ‘I will hold back until you have recovered the jewels. Once I have them back I shall do my best to track down the thieves.’

  ‘You can then make what enquiries you please,’ I agreed. ‘So, with that understood, I will do my best. I am afraid what you did last night will have made the thieves very nervous. I can but try to re-establish contact, and will of course let you know if and when I have done so. Will you please let me have the remainder of the money so that I may have it ready to pay the intermediary supposing I do manage to see him.’

  He handed it to me (enough to cover Denis’s losses and some to spare), and I left him and decided to wait another three or four days, which I thought would be the least Mr Dashwood might suppose needed to make arrangements with my imaginary go-between again.

  In spite of Mr Dashwood’s promise not to interfere while I completed matters I did not trust him, and took care every time I went out to see if I was being followed. As far as I could tell he was keeping his word, but when the moment came for me to move the jewels I took extra precautions.

  On the fourth day I retrieved them from my stable, made them into a parcel, put it in my apothecary’s bag and set off on a roundabout walk. I went up Durn Lane, crossed South Street, dodged through a little alley to near the Guildhall, and mingled with the crowd going to and fro in the High Street. When I reached St Peter’s Church I slipped inside and sat at the back while I made sure that there was no one else there and that I had not been followed.

  My gaze fell upon a monument at the end of the north or left hand side aisle. I had spent some time staring it when I had sat waiting to see Mrs Dashwood there—the monument to Sir John Williams of Herringstone, with its two kneeling almost life-size figures. It had since struck me that a package could be hidden there with little danger of anyone finding it by chance, as the monument was high up and there were plenty of places where the package would be out of sight.

  Once I was sure I was alone I stood up and found a coffin-stool at the back of the church, and carried it up the north aisle. Having placed it below the monument, I climbed up and considered for a moment. I did not want to make the package too hard to find, so did not try to thrust it behind the great central stone chest. Instead I put it between Sir John’s legs, where it would be quite invisible from the ground. I stepped down, replaced the stool, picked up my bag and left at once.

  Back home I wrote a note to Mr Dashwood as follows:

  The property is supposed to be left for collection in St Peter’s Church, and should be found between the legs of Sir John Williams’ statue. Let me know if you fail to find it there. M.J.

  By returning the jewels in this way I hoped to avoid being too closely associated with them myself. I sent the note by the hand of young Paul Simpkins, a boy from our lane who likes running errands, and then returned to my work with a great sense of relief. It was most unlikely that the wrong person would find the jewels, especially if Mr Dashwood went at once to fetch them, and I would be done with this wretched affair.

  Next morning I went to the church and reached up to feel if the package had gone—which it had. So I then visited Denis Faire to pay him his money.

  He was sitting in his little house sorting goods for his stall—or rather, that was what he was meant to be doing. In fact he was sitting gazing at the wall, and jumped up with a start when I entered.

  He thanked me extremely for the money, and I gave him a bit extra as compensation for the bad position he had been put into.

  ‘You know, Micah, I feel so much better now this wretched business has been cleared up, because I do think I’ve got a chance with Elizabeth. Her father’s still dead against me. But she—she’s an angel!’

  I didn’t press him to tell me how, because I thought the less I knew the less Nathan could find out from me, but I understood that Denis had had one or two more meetings with Elizabeth. Perhaps she wasn’t such a dutiful daughter as her father thought!

  There was still a little money over, but I did not feel justified in keeping it, and salved my conscience by putting it in the church poor box.

  The irony was that later that day Mr Dashwood sent for me again and gave me a reward, rather a mean amount, but useful. Then, next day Mrs Dashwood’s maidservant came to my shop and handed me a small package and hurried away before I could open it. Inside was a gold ring wrapped in a paper on which as written, ‘A reward for discretion’.

  I could not refuse these rewards, and when I thought of Mr Dashwood’s tyrannical behaviour towards his wife and his rudeness to me, and the risks and trouble I had taken for Mrs Dashwood, I felt that on the whole I deserved them.

  I had restored two treasures to their owners, but Whittle’s had disappeared. I tried without success to put it out of my mind.