CHAPTER XX
A THRILLING NARRATIVE
Mr Inch, beadle of the parish of Brassington, was altogether in hiselement.
Dressed in his gold-laced coat, bob-tail wig and three-cornered hat, hisfine calves encased in the whitest of cotton stockings, his buckledshoes veritable mirrors of shiny brilliancy, he was standing, wand ofoffice in hand, outside the door of the tiny Court House, where ColonelWest, Squire of Brassington, was sitting in judgment on the poachers andfootpads of the neighbourhood.
Before Mr Inch stood no less a person than Master Mittachip,attorney-at-law. Master Mittachip desired to speak with Squire West,and the pompous beadle was in the proud position of standing betweenthis presumptuous desire and the supreme Majesty of the Law.
"Them's my orders, sir," he said, with all the solemnity which thisextraordinary event demanded. "Them's my orders. Squire West's ownorders. 'Inch,' he says to me--my name being Jeremiah Inch, sir--'Inch,'he says, 'the odours which perambulate the court-room'--and mind ye,sir, he didn't use such polite language either--'the odours is more thanI can endurate this hot morning!' As a matter of fact, sir, truthcompellates me to state that Squire West's own words were: 'Inch, thisroom stinks like hell! too many sweating yokels about!' Then he gave mehis orders: 'The room is too full as it is, don't admit anyone else, onany pretext or cause whatsoever.'"
Master Mittachip had made various misguided efforts to interrupt MrInch's wonderful flow of eloquence. It was only when the worthy beadlepaused to take breath, that the attorney got in a word edgewise.
"Harkee, my good man..." he began impatiently.
"I am extra-ordinarily grieved, sir," interrupted Master Inch, who hadnot nearly finished, "taking into consideration that I am somewhatdubersome, whether what his Honour said about the odours could applyindividually to you, but orders is orders, sir, and the Squire as alegal luminosity must be obeyed in all things."
Mr Inch heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction. It was not often that hehad the opportunity of showing off his marvellous eloquence andwonderful flow of language before so distinguished a gentleman as MasterMittachip, attorney-at-law. But the latter seemed not to appreciate theelegance of the worthy beadle's diction; on the contrary, he hadthroughout shown signs of the greatest impatience, and now, directly MrInch heaved this one sigh, Master Mittachip produced a silverhalf-crown, and toying with it, in apparent indifference, saidsignificantly,--
"I am sure, friend Beadle, that if you were to acquaint Squire West thathis Honour, Sir Humphrey Challoner, desired to speak with him..."
Mr Inch stroked his fat, clean-shaven chin, and eyed the silverhalf-crown with an anxious air.
"Ah! perhaps!" he suggested with as much dignity as the new circumstanceallowed, "perhaps if I did so far contravene my orders..."
"I feel sure that Sir Humphrey would see fit to reward you," suggestedthe attorney, still idly fingering that tempting half-crown.
But Master Inch was still "dubersome."
"But then, you understand," he said, "it is against the regulations thatI should vacuate my post until after the sitting is over ... so..."
"Sir Humphrey Challoner is partaking of breakfast at the Royal George,Master Inch, he would wish Squire West to know that he'll attend on himhere in half an hour."
Master Inch closed one eye, and with the other keenly watched MasterMittachip's movements. The attorney turned the half-crown over in hislean hand once or twice, then he made as if he would put it back in hispocket.
This decided the beadle.
"I'll go and reconnoitre-ate," he said, "and perhaps I can despatch amenial to impart to the Squire, Sir Humphrey's wishes and cognomen."
Thus the majestic beadle felt that his dignity had not been impaired.With a magnificent turn of his portly person, and an imposing flourishof his wand of office, he disappeared within the precincts of the Court.
Master Mittachip slipped the half-crown back in his pocket, and did notwait for the beadle's return. He was quite satisfied that Sir Humphrey'swishes would be acceded to. He turned his back on the Court House andslowly crossed the green.
Opposite to him was the Royal George, where he and Master Duffy had putup for the night. In the small hours of the morning he had been arousedfrom peaceful slumbers by a great disturbance at the inn. Sir HumphreyChalloner, booted and spurred, but alone, on foot, and covered with mud,was peremptorily demanding admittance.
Since then Master Mittachip had had an interview with his employer,wherein his Honour had expressed the desire to speak with Squire Westafter he, himself, had partaken of late breakfast. That interview hadbeen a very brief one, but it had sufficed to show to the lean attorneythat Sir Humphrey's temper was none of the best this morning.
His Honour had desired Master Mittachip's presence again, and the latterwas now making his way slowly back to the Royal George, his kneesquaking under him, his throat dry, and his tongue parched with terror.Sir Humphrey Challoner was not pleasant to deal with when his temper wasup.
The attorney found his Honour installed at breakfast in the privateparlour of the inn, and consuming large mugs full of ale and severalrashers of fried bacon.
"Well?" queried Sir Humphrey, impatiently, as soon as the attorney'slean, bird-like face appeared in the doorway.
"I sent word to his Honour, Squire West," explained the latter, comingforward timidly, "saying that you would wish to see him at the CourtHouse in half an hour. And, unless your Honour would wish me to speakto the Squire for you..."
"No!" rejoined his Honour, curtly. "'Sdeath! don't stand therefidgeting before me," he added. "Sit down!"
Master Mittachip meekly obeyed. He selected the straightest chair inthe room, placed it as far away from his Honour as he could, and satdown on the extreme edge of it.
"Well! you lean-faced coward," began his Honour, whose temper did notseem to have improved after his substantial breakfast, "you allowedyourself to be robbed of my money last night, eh?"
Thus much Sir Humphrey knew already, for his first inquiry on meetingMittachip at the inn had been after his rents. Since then the attorneyhad had half an hour in which to reflect on what he would say when hisHonour once more broached the subject. Therefore he began to protestwith a certain degree of assurance.
"On my honour, Sir Humphrey, you misjudge me," he said deliberately."As my clerk and I passed the loneliest spot on the Heath, and withoutany previous warning, two masked men leapt into the path in front of us,and presented pistols. A third man called to us to stand."
Here Master Mittachip made an effective pause, the better to watch theimpression which his narrative was making on his employer. The latterwas quietly picking his teeth, and merely remarked quietly,--
"Well? and what did you do?"
Thus encouraged Mittachip waxed more bold.
"In a flash I drew a pistol," he continued glibly, "and so did Duffy ...for I must say he bore himself bravely. We both fired and my ballknocked the hat off the fellow nearest to me, but Master Duffy's ballunfortunately missed. I was drawing my other pistol, determined to makea desperate fight, and I believe Duffy did as much.... I was amazedthat the fellows did not fire upon us in return..."
He was distinctly warming up to his subject. But here he was interruptedby a loud guffaw. Sir Humphrey was evidently vastly amused at thethrilling tale, and his boisterous laugh went echoing along theblackened rafter of the old village inn.
"Odd's my life! 'tis perfect! marvellous, I call it! And tell me,Master Mittachip," added his Honour, whose eyes were streaming and whosesides were shaking with laughter, "tell me, why did they not fire? Eh?"
From past experience Master Mittachip should have known that when SirHumphrey Challoner laughed his loudest, then was he mostly to bedreaded. Yet in this instance the attorney's delight at his ownrealistic story drowned the wiser counsels of prudence. He took hisHonour's hilarity as a compliment to his own valour, and continuedproudly,--
"
The reason was not far to seek, for at that very moment we were bothseized upon from behind by two big fellows. Then all five of them fellupon us and dragged us aside into the darkness; they tied scarves aboutour mouths, so that we could not cry out.... Aye! and had somedifficulty in doing it, for believe me, Sir Humphrey, I fought like mad!Then they rifled us of everything ... despoiled us absolutely..."
At this point it struck Master Mittachip that his Honour's continuedgaiety was somewhat out of place. The narrative had become thrillingsurely, exciting and blood-curdling too, and yet Sir Humphrey waslaughing more lustily than ever.
"Go on, man! go on," he gasped between his paroxysms of merriment."Odd's fish! but 'tis the best story I've heard for many a day!"
"I will swear to the truth o' it in any court of law," protested theattorney with somewhat less assurance. "The fifth man was Beau Brocade.I heard the others address him so, while I was lying gagged and bound."
"Aye! you would _lie_ anywhere," commented his Honour, "gagged and boundor not."
"From your observation, Sir Humphrey, I gather that you somewhat ... er... doubt my story!" murmured Master Mittachip in a quavering voice.
"Doubt it, man? ... doubt it?" laughed his Honour, holding his sides,"nay! how can I doubt it? I saw it all..."
"You, Sir Humphrey?"
"I was there, man, on the Heath. I saw it all ... your vigorousdefence, your noble valour, your ... your..."
Master Mittachip's sallow face had assumed a parchment-like hue. Hepassed his dry tongue over his parched lips, great drops of moistureappeared beneath his wig. That his fears were not unfounded waspresently proved by Sir Humphrey's sudden change of manner.
The hilarious laugh died down in his Honour's throat, an ugly frowngathered above his deep-set eyes, and with a violent curse he broughthis heavy fist down crashing upon the table.
"And now, you lying, lumbering poltroon, where's my money?"
"B ... b ... but, Sir Humphrey..." stammered the attorney, now pallidwith terror.
"There's no 'but' about it. You collected some rents for me, thirtyguineas in all, that money must lie to my account in the bank atWirksworth to-morrow, or by G---- I'll have you clapped in jail like thethief that you are."
"B ... b ... but, your Honour..."
"Silence! I've said my last word. If that money is not in the bank bynoon to-morrow, I'll denounce you to the Wirksworth magistrate as afraudulent agent. Now hold your tongue about that. I've said my lastword. The rest is your affair, not mine. I've more important matters tothink on."
Master Mittachip, half dead with fear, dared not offer further argumentor pleading. He knew his employer well enough to realise that hishonour meant every word he said, and that he himself had nothing more tohope for in the matter of the money. The deficiency extracted from himby that rascal Beau Brocade would have to be made good somehow, andMaster Mittachip bethought him ruefully of his own savings, made up ofsundry little commissions extorted from his Honour's tenants.
No wonder the attorney felt none too kindly disposed towards thehighwayman. He watched Sir Humphrey's face as a hungry dog does hismaster's, and noted with growing satisfaction that his Honour's angerwas cooling down gradually, and giving place to harder and more crueldetermination. As he watched, the look of terror died out of his bony,sallow face, and his pale, watery eyes began to twinkle with keen andvengeful malice.
Beau Brocade: A Romance Page 20
