CHAPTER XVI
THE SNARE WHICH THEY DIGGED FOR OTHERS
The same day on leaving Jenny, the Turnkey who conducted me to the gate,offered me congratulations--rather gruff and even forced--on the turnthings had taken.
'I assure you, Sir,' he said with feeling, 'that we know generallybeforehand what will happen, and we'd quite made up our minds as to yourcase, spite of Madame's interest. There didn't seem any doubt. Some ofus are a bit disappointed: we don't like, you see, for anyone to slipout. Well: there's always disappointments. Would you like to cast an eyeon your friends--them that hatched that pretty plot? Come this way,then. I wouldn't like to be in their shoes if it comes to Pillory--andit will.'
So he led me out of the passage into one of the yards. At the sight ofthe place my heart sank to think how I had myself trodden thoseflagstones and stepped from side to side of those dismal walls. Theplace was the Master's side: there were twenty prisoners or more in it.One or two were sitting on the stone bench drinking beer and smokingtobacco: one was playing a game of fives by himself. My two principalwitnesses, the Bishop and his friend the Captain, were walking side byside, both in irons. Mr. Probus sat in a corner his head hanging down:taking no notice of anything. Mr. Merridew walked by himself with anassumption of being in the wrong place by accident and with an air ofimportance, the prisoners making way for him right and left, for theterror of his name accompanied him even into Newgate.
The turnkey called him. 'Merridew,' he said, with familiarity. 'Come andsee the young gentleman you tried to hang. Now he'll hang you. That'scurious, isn't it? Here we go up,' he turned to me with a philosophicsmile, 'and here we go down.'
'Sir,' Mr. Merridew obeyed the call and approached me, bowing with greathumility. His cringing salute was almost as nauseous as the impudentbrutality which he had shown in the Thieves' Kitchen. 'Sir, I ampleased to make your honoured acquaintance. I hardly expected, in thisplace where I am confined by accident----'
'Oh! Sir, I did not come here to make your acquaintance, believe me.'
'Sir, I am pleased to have speech with you, even in this place, and ifonly to remove a misunderstanding which seems to have arisen regardingmy part in the late unhappy business. If you will kindly remember, Sir,I merely testified to what I saw, being an accidental eye-witness. Thenight was dark: there was a scuffle. You will bear me out, Sir--sofar--a scuffle--whether you were attacking that fellow'--he pointed tothe Bishop who with his friend the Captain was now looking on--'or thatother fellow'--he indicated the Captain--'villains both,Sir,--both--who, but for my mistaken kindness, would have been hangedlong ago--I cannot exactly say. I may have been--perhaps--we all makemistakes--too ready to believe the other side, and what they said.However, that is all over and, of course, I shall be set free in an houror two. With expressions of sorrow, for an undeserved imprisonment----'He looked in my face for some expression of sympathy but, I believe,found none. 'No malice, Sir, I hope.' He held out the abominable handwhich was steeped in the blood of his victims and rank with the stink ofhis wickedness. 'I hope, Sir, that if the case comes to trial, I may notsee you among the prosecutors.' I maintained silence and took no noticeof his proffered hand. 'But indeed, I shall certainly be out in an houror two: or perhaps a day or two. My case has not yet, perhaps, been laidbefore the authorities. I am here as a mere matter of form.Ha!--form--in fact I have no business here--no business at all--nobusiness.' His voice sank to a whisper, showing the real agitation ofhis mind.
'Mr. Merridew, I have not come here with any desire to converse withyou.'
'You are not going to bear malice, Mr. Halliday? Be content withexposing two villains. Two will be enough--If you want more there isProbus. He's an extraordinary villain. As for you, Sir, consider: youare a fortunate man, Sir. You ought to be in the condemned cell. Youhave got off against all expectation, and when everybody, to a man,thought it was a certainty. Had I been consulted by your sweetheart Ishould have advised her, Sir, I should, indeed, so strong a case wasit--to my experienced mind, Sir, I should have advised her, Sir, to buythe cap and the ribbons and the nosegay and the Orange--Oh! a fortunateman, indeed!'
As if he had had nothing whatever to do with the case! As if there hadbeen no Conspiracy!
I was turning away in disgust, when the other pair of villains drewnear. I prepared for some volley of abuse and foul language, but wasdisappointed. They addressed me, it seemed in no spirit of hostility,but quite the contrary. They were lamb like.
'Sir,' said the Bishop, 'what was done by my friend the Captain andmyself was done by orders of Mr. Merridew here. He said, "Do it, orswing." So we had no choice. Merridew gave us the orders and Probusinvented the plot. "Do it or swing," was the word.'
'You shall swing, too,' the Thief taker turned upon him savagely, 'assoon as I get out. A pair of villains, not fit to live.'
'You won't hang anybody any more,' said the Captain, with defiance.'Your own time's up at last, Merridew. Your own rope has come to anend.'
'Wait till I get out. Wait till I get out,' he roared.
'That won't be just yet, brother,' said the turnkey. 'Conspiracy's anugly word, friend Merridew. There's imprisonment in it--and flogging,sometimes--and pillory. But make up your mind for a long stay and becomfortable.'
'Dick,' said Mr. Merridew. He knew every turnkey as well as most of theprisoners. It was said that he often had to go shares with the turnkeys.'Dick, you know me, of old.'
'Ay--ay--We all know you.'
'We've worked together----'
'That is as may be. But go on.'
'Well, Dick, I am a sheriff's officer. I know all the rogues in London,don't I?'
'Why, certainly.'
'I know where to lay my hands upon every one. I know where they practiseand what they do.'
'Correct,' said the turnkey.
'They don't dare to lock me up. Do they? Lock _me_ up?' he snorted.'Why, if I am kept here long, all the villains will go free. London willno longer be safe. There won't be fifty hangings in a year. Who fillsyour gaols? John Merridew. Who fills your carts? John Merridew. You knowthat, Dick. Nobody knows better than you.'
'Correct,' said Dick.
'The judges can't send me to prison. They can't do it, I say. Why--ofcourse--of course----' Again his voice sank to a whisper.
I looked at the man with amazement. He was evidently seeking consolationby delusive assurances. At heart he was filled with terror. For besidethe prison, there was the dread of pillory. They might be set inpillory. He knew, none better, that the thief-taker who is also thethief-maker, has not a single friend in the whole world. What would bedone to him if he should stand in pillory?
'Let me get out as soon as possible,' he went on, appealing to me. 'Why,Sir, unless I go out the whole criminal procedure of this country willbe thrown out of gear. I am the only man--the only man, Sir--ask Dick,here.' The turnkey shook his keys and nodded.
'But they'll give you a heavy sentence, my friend,' he said.
'The only man that can't be spared--the only man--the only man----'Again his voice dropped to a whisper. He turned away babbling andshaking his head, all the insolence gone out of him.
'His power is gone,' said the Bishop. 'He won't get my more rewards.'
'Yes,' said the turnkey. 'But he has had a long innings. Why, he must benearly fifty. There's a many would envy Merridew.'
The Bishop once more addressed himself to me. 'Sir,' he said, 'I grieveto hear that our friends wrecked the Black Jack and Madame's house. Ifear these acts of violence may make you vindictive.'
'Madame herself was brought in yesterday--for receiving stolen goods.'
'Madame? Madame brought here? On a charge----?' The Bishop's faceexpressed the liveliest concern.
'Why,' said the Captain. 'It's----' A motion of his fingers to histhroat showed what he meant.
'Nothing could have been more disastrous,' said the Bishop. 'Believe me,Sir, we have nothing to do with the wreck of the houses, and we wereignorant of this charge, I assure you, Sir
. Oh! This is a greatmisfortune!'
The misfortune, it appeared, lay in the danger--nay, the certainty, thatthis persecution would make both Madame and myself more vindictive. Nowthe events of the Trial, when at a word, as it seemed, fromMadame--witnesses sprang up in a cloud to confront them with theirvillainy, made them believe that she had friends everywhere.
'It cannot be,' said the Bishop, 'but she will get off. Who is theprincipal evidence?'
'Ask the Captain. And that is enough.'
I stepped across the yard and laid my finger on Probus's shoulder as hesat with bowed form and hanging head. He looked up with lack-lustreeyes. I believe that the loss of his money and the result of hisconspiracy had affected his brain, for he seemed to pay no heed toanything.
'Mr. Probus,' I said. 'I must tell you that my cousin is now bankrupt.'
He stared without any look of recognition.
'Mr. Probus,' I repeated, 'my cousin Matthew is a bankrupt. I tell you,in order that you may send in your claim with those of the othercreditors.'
'Ay--ay--' he replied. 'Very like.'
'Bankrupt!' I said again. 'Even had you succeeded in your plot you wouldhave been too late.'
He nodded without attention.
'And another mass of debts has been added. His wife's house has beenwrecked by the mob and all her property destroyed. Therefore herliabilities have been presented to her husband.'
'All gone!' he moaned. 'All gone! The work of an honest lifetime wastedand thrown away. Nothing will ever be recovered.'
'Mr. Probus,' I said, 'the money is gone. That is most true. But morethan that is gone. Your character--your honour--it is all gone--wastedand thrown away--none of it will be recovered.'
'All gone--all gone,' he repeated.
The turnkey stood beside me. 'Queer, isn't it?' he said. 'He's lost hismoney and his wits have gone after it. A money lender, he was. He's putmore poor folk into the Fleet and the King's Bench than his friendMerridew has put prisoners here. And he ought to be thinking ofsomething else--his trial and his sentence.'
'His sentence?'
'Well--you see, Merridew, he knows. This one doesn't. The Bishop, heknows--and the Captain--and they don't like it. This man doesn't care.For you see they will certainly have to stand in Pillory--and if the mobdon't love money lenders they love thief takers less, and Merridew's themost notorious thief taker in town. Well--it's a wonderful country forLaw and Justice. Now, I suppose they poor French would be content tohang up a man at once. We don't. We give 'em an hour's ride in a cartwhere they sometimes gets roses but more often gets addled eggs. Or weput 'em in pillory where they may get dead cats or they may get flintsand broken bottles.'
I came away. The heavy gate closed: the key turned in the lock; the fourwretches were shut in once more, there, at least, the prey to thekeenest terrors, dying a thousand deaths before they should be taken outfor the dead cats and the addled eggs and perhaps the flints and brokenbottles.
The Orange Girl Page 28
