CHAPTER VII
JENNY'S ADVICE
After this plain warning: after knowing the nature of the design againstme: after the savage threats of the man Probus: I ought to havehesitated no longer: I should have taken Alice and the child to herbrother Tom, and should then have retired somewhere until the inevitablebankruptcy relieved me from fear of conspiracy. Once before, I hadsuffered from delay: yet had I not learned the perils ofprocrastination. I had formed in my mind an idea that they would try insome way to fix upon me the crime of forgery, and I thought that thiswould take time: so that I was not hurried: I confess that I wasdisquieted: but I was not hurried.
On Monday morning I repaired to Soho Square and laid the whole businessbefore Jenny.
'Will,' she said, after hearing all and asking a few questions, 'thisseems a very serious affair. You have to deal with a man driven franticby the loss of all his money: the money that he has spent his life inscraping together. He throws out hints about your possible death in thecounting-house, and makes a bargain in case you die: he threatens youwith some mysterious revenge.'
'I believe he will trump up some charge of forgery.'
'He is quite unscrupulous. Now, I will tell you something. The manMerridew's perjury about your alleged debt put me on the scent. Probusworks through Merridew. First of all Merridew owes him money--more thanhe can pay. This debt goes on rolling up. This puts Merridew in hispower. What Probus orders Merridew must do.'
'Is there always behind every villain a greater villain?'
'I suppose so. The greater the rogue the safer he is. Merridew goes tothe shopkeepers and offers to return them stolen goods--at a price. Itis one of his ways of making money. Then he finds out their necessities.Most shopkeepers are always in want of money. Then Merridew takes themto Probus who lends them money. Oh! at first there was never such a kindfriend--on the easiest terms: they can pay when they please: then theywant a little more: and so they go on. When their debt has risen to halfthe value of their stock, Probus wants to be paid. Then he sells themup. The father of the family becomes bankrupt and goes into a prison forthe rest of his days: what becomes of the children I know not--no oneknows. I dare say some of them go to St. Giles's.'
This is what Jenny told me. I know not if it is true, but I think itmust be.
'Well, you see, that Probus pulls the strings and sets Merridew's armsand legs at work, and Merridew has all the rogues under his thumb. Nowyou understand why the position is serious.'
She considered for a few minutes. 'Will,' she said, 'for sure they willtalk it over at the Black Jack. When anything is arranged it isgenerally done in the kitchen and in the morning.' She looked at theclock. 'It is now nearly one. If I were to go round!' She consideredagain. 'Doll will be there. They may be there too. But this time theymust not recognise me. Wait a bit, Will.'
She left me and presently came back dressed, not as an Orange Girl, butas a common person, such as one may see anywhere in St. Giles's. She hadon a linsey woolsey frock: a dirty white apron all in holes: a kerchiefround her neck: another over her head tied under her chin: a straw hatalso tied under her chin: and woollen mittens on her hands. One cheekwas smudged as by a coal, and her left eye was blackened: no one wouldhave recognised her. On her arm she carried a basket carefully coveredup.
'Now,' she said, 'I'm a woman with a basket full of stolen goods forMother Wilmot.'
I let her out by the garden-door which opened on to Hog's Lane.Presently she returned: from what she told me, this was what passed.
She found her mother nodding over knitting, and her sister Doll busywith the slate. The kitchen was well-nigh empty because most of thefrequenters were abroad picking up their living. Like the sparrows theypick it up as they can from pockets and doorways and from shop bulks.
'Doll,' she whispered. 'Pretend not to know me. Turn over the things inthe basket.'
'What is it, Jenny?'
She looked round the room. There were only two or three sitting by thefire. 'No one who knows me,' she said. 'Tell me, Doll. Has Mr. Merridewbeen here--and when?'
'Why, he's only just gone. Him and the Bishop--and the Captain--andanother one--a gentleman he looked like. All in black.'
'All in black? Was he tall and thin and stooping? So?'
'Yes. They've been talking over it all the morning.'
'What is it, Doll? You've got ears like gimlets. I sometimes think itmust be pleasant to be able to hear so much that goes on.'
'I can hear a thing if I like. The Bishop don't like it, Jenny.' Shedropped her voice. 'It's business for getting a man out of the way.They'll have to give evidence at the Old Bailey, and he's afraid.'
'How is the man to be put out of the way?'
'I don't know. There's money on it. But they're afraid.'
'Why are they afraid?'
'Because they're going to make a man swing. If he doesn't swing, theywill.'
'I suppose it's an innocent man, Doll.'
'How should I know? It isn't one of themselves. If the case breaks downthey'll have to swing. Mr. Merridew promised them so much, for I heardhim. He means it, too--and they know it. I heard him. "If you do breakdown," he says, "after all, you will be no worse off than you are atpresent. For your time's up and you know it, both of you. So, if youbreak down, you will be arrested for conspiracy and detained on myinformation on a capital charge." After which--he made so----' with herfinger on her neck.
'Well, what did they say, Doll?'
'The Bishop said it would be easier and quicker to knock him on the headat once. Mr. Merridew wouldn't hear of it. He said if they obeyed himthey should have two years' more rope. If not, they knew what to expect.So they went away with him, looking mighty uneasy.'
'When is it to be, Doll?'
'Lord, sister, you are mighty curious. 'Tis no affair of yours. Bestknow nothing, I say. Only a body must hear things. And it makes the timepass knowing what to expect.'
'Can you find out when it is to be?'
'If I learn, I will tell you. It's all settled, I know that. We shallhave the pair of them giving evidence in the Old Bailey.' Doll laughedat the thought. 'All St. Giles's will go to the Court to hear--all themthat dare.'
'So they went away with Mr. Merridew,' Jenny repeated, thoughtfully.
'Yes, after a mug of purl, but the Bishop went away shaking. Not onaccount of the crime, I suppose, but with the thought of beingcross-examined in the Old Bailey, and the terror that he might berecognised. But the only London Prison that knew him was the King'sBench.'
Jenny took up her basket and went away. Just outside the door she met ayoung country fellow: he had come up from some village in consequence oftrouble concerned with a girl: Jenny had had speech with him already, asyou have heard, at the Black Jack.
'Jack,' she said, 'you don't remember me: I was at the Black Jack sometime ago in the evening. They called me Madam. Now you remember.'
'Ay----' he said, looking at her curiously. 'But I shouldn't know youagain. You are dressed different.'
'Jack, why don't you go home?'
'A man must live,' he replied.
'You'll be hanged. For sure and certain, one of these days, you'll behanged. Now, Jack, I'll give you a chance. Let us sit here by the rails,and talk--then people won't suspect. You've seen Mr. Merridew to-day. Ithought so. He told you that he might want you on some serious job. Ithought so. Your looks are still innocent, Jack. Now tell me all aboutit--and I'll give you money to take you home again out of the way andsafe.'
Jack had very little to tell. He had been in the kitchen that morning.Mr. Merridew called him--bade him not to go away: said that he shouldwant him perhaps for a good job: so he waited. Then a gentleman came in:he was in black--a long, and lean figure. Jack would know him again; andthey all four--but not Jack--talked very earnestly together. Then thegentleman went away and presently Mr. Merridew also went away, with theBishop and the Captain.
'Very good, Jack. I will see you to-morrow morning again--just in thesame place. Don't for
get. If anything else occurs you will tell me. PoorJack! I should be sorry to see so proper a fellow hanged,' so she noddedand laughed and pressed his hand and left him.
She came home: she joined me again. There was something hatching; thatwas certain.
'Perhaps,' she said, 'the plot is not directed against you. Merridew isalways finding out where a house can be broken or a bale of stuffstolen.'
'Then what did Probus want there?'
'The long, lean man in black was not Probus, perhaps.'
She considered again.
'After all, Will, I think the best thing is for you to disappear. Theyare desperate villains. Get out of their way. Your friend Ramage gaveyou the best advice possible. If all he says is true, Matthew cannothold out much longer. Once he is bankrupt, your death will no longerhelp Probus. Where could you go?'
I told her that I thought of Dublin, where I might get into theorchestra of the theatre. So after a little discussion, it was settled.Jenny, always generous, undertook to provide for Alice in my absence,and gave me a sum of money for present necessities.
I stayed there all day. In the evening I played at a concert in theAssembly Room. After the concert I took supper with Jenny.
During supper Jenny entertained me with a fuller description of thewretches from whose hands she was trying to rescue me. There was no turnor trick of villainy that Jenny did not know. She made no excuses forknowing so much--it was part of her education to hear continually talkof these things. They make up disguises in which it is impossible torecognise them: they arrange that respectable people shall swear totheir having been miles away at the time of the crime: they practise onthe ignorance of some: on the cunning of others. They prey upon mankind.And all the time, behind every villain stands a greater villain. Behindthe humble footpad stands the Captain: behind the Captain stands thethief-taker: behind the thief-taker stands the money-lender himselfunseen. It would surely be to the advantage of the Law could it tacklethe greater villains first. A cart-load of gentlemen like Mr. Probus onits way to Tyburn would perhaps be more useful than many cartloads ofpoor pickpockets and hedge-lifters. Sometimes, however, as this historywill relate, Justice with tardy step overtakes a Probus, and that withpunishment so dreadful that he is left incapable of any furtherwickedness.
'Now,' she said, 'when Probus wants money, he squeezes Merridew. Then helays information against some poor wretch who expected a longer rope. Inorder to get at these wretches he has to encourage them to break thelaw. So you see, if he has to make a payment to Probus, he mustmanufacture criminals. As I said, there cannot be many things worse thanthe making of criminals for the satisfaction of the money-lender.'
I hardly understood, at the time, the full villainy of this system. Infact, I was wholly absorbed in my own particular case. What was going tobe done?
About midnight I bade this kindest of women farewell.
'Remember, Will,' she said, 'trust nothing to chance. Take boat down theriver before daybreak. There is sure to be a Holyhead coach somewherein the morning. In a month or two you can come back again in safety.'
Yes--I was to come back in safety in that time, but not as Jenny meant.I shouldered my trusty club and marched off.
The Orange Girl Page 19
