CHAPTER VIII.Ned Hayward and Beauchamp pay a visit to Mr. Wittingham.
Man never sees above half of anything, never knows above half of anything, never understands above half of any thing; and upon this halfsight, half knowledge, and half understanding, he acts, supplying thedeficiency of his information by a guess at the rest, in which thereis more than an equal chance that he is wrong instead of right. Thatis the moral of this chapter.
After Ned Hayward's interview with Stephen Gimlet, alias Wolf, ourfriend turned his steps back towards Tarningham, and arrived at theWhite Hart by eight o'clock. About three quarters of an hour hadshaved him, dressed him, and brushed his hair, and down he went to thelittle parlour in which he had passed the preceding evening just intime to find Mr. Beauchamp beginning his breakfast. Although thelatter gentleman shook his companion cordially by the hand, and seemedto look upon his presence in the parlour as a matter of course, NedHayward thought fit to apologise for his intrusion, adding, "I shallnot maroon myself upon you very long, for soon after breakfast I shalldecamp to Sir John Slingsby's."
"I am sorry, I assure you, to lose the pleasure of your society sosoon," replied Beauchamp, and then added, addressing the maid, who hadjust brought in some broiled ham, "you had better bring some more cupsand saucers, my good girl."
"And some more ham, and also a cold fowl," added Ned Hayward. "I havethe appetite of an ogre, and if you do not make haste, I must have abit out of your rosy cheek, my dear, just to stay my stomach."
"La, Sir!" cried the maid, with a coquettish little titter; but sheran away to get what was wanted, as if she were really afraid of theconsequences of Ned Hayward's appetite, and as soon as she was gone,he said,
"I have got news for you, Beauchamp; but I will wait till the room isclear before I give it. I have been up and out, over the hills andfaraway this morning; so I have well earned my breakfast."
"Indeed!" exclaimed his companion with a look of surprise, "really youare an active general, but you should have given your fellow-soldiersinformation of your movements, and we might have combined operations."
"There was no time to be lost," answered Hayward.
But at that moment the maid returned with the cold fowl; the ham wasstill in the rear, and it was not till breakfast was half over thatthe young officer could tell his tale. When he had got as far with itas the first explanations of Mr. Gimlet, Beauchamp exclaimed eagerly,"And what did it turn out to be?"
"Nothing after all but a love affair," answered Ned. "Now, my dearBeauchamp, I have as much compassion for all lovers as an oldmatch-making dowager, and therefore I think it will be better to letthis matter drop quietly."
"Oh, certainly," answered his new friend, "I am quite astender-hearted in such matters as yourself; but are you quite sure ofthe fact? for this seems to me to have been a very odd way of makinglove."
"It was so assuredly," replied Hayward, "but nevertheless thetale is true. The fact is the young lady is an heiress, the motherstrict--most likely the latter looks for some high match for herdaughter, and will not hear of the youth's addresses. He falls intodespair, and with a Roman courage resolves to carry off a bride.Unfortunately for his purpose, we come up, and the rape of the Sabinesis prevented; but 'pon my honour, I admire the fellow for his spirit.There is something chivalrous, nay more, feudal about it. He mustfancy himself some old baron who had a right prescriptive to run awaywith every man's daughter that suited him; and, on my life, my dearBeauchamp, I can go on no further in attempting to punish him for adeed whose hot and proof spirit shames this milk-and-water age. Oh,the times of carrying off heiresses, of robbing in cocked hats, andfull-bottomed wigs, of pinking one's adversary under the fifth rib inLeicester Fields, with gentlemen in high shoes and gold lace forseconds, and chairmen for spectators, when will they come again? Gone,gone for ever, my dear Beauchamp, into the same box as ourgrandmother's brocade-gown, and with them the last spark of the spiritof chivalry has expired."
"Very true," answered Beauchamp, smiling at his companion's tirade,"there was certainly an adventurous turn about those days which savedthem from dulness; but yet there was a primness about them which wascurious, a formality mingling with their wildest excesses, a pruderywith their licentiousness, which can only be attributed to the cut oftheir clothes. There is some mysterious link between them, depend uponit, Hayward, and whether it be that the clothes affect the man, or theman the clothes, it is not for me to say; but the grand internalharmony of nature will not be violated, and the spirit of the age isrepresented in the coats, waistcoats, and breeches of the people ofthe period much better than in all the stupid books written from timeto time to display it."
This was the first sentence that Ned Hayward had ever heard hiscompanion speak in a jocular tone, but Beauchamp immediately went onin a graver manner to say, "Yet, after all, I do not see how we candrop this matter entirely. Far be it from me, of all men on earth, topersecute another, but yet, having already given information of thisattempt at robbery, as it seemed to us, and tendered our evidence onoath, we cannot well draw back. A gross offence has indubitably beencommitted, not only in the attack upon these two ladies, but also inthe very violent and murderous resistance which was made when wearrived to their rescue; and this young gentleman should have awarning at least."
"To be sure, to be sure," answered Ned Hayward, "I have got the pistolball singing in my ear now, and I am quite willing to give him afright, and old Wittingham too. The latter I will, please Heaven,torment out of the remnant of seven senses that he has left, for amore pompous, vulgar old blockhead I never saw; and therefore I shouldpropose at once--that is to say, as soon as I have done this cup ofcoffee--you have finished I see--to go to good Mr. Wittingham's andbelabour him with our small wits till he is nearly like the man whowas scourged to death with rushes."
"Nay, nothing quite so sanguinary as that, I trust," said Beauchamp,"but I will accompany you willingly and see fair play between you andthe magistrate."
According to this arrangement, as soon as breakfast was over, and NedHayward had given some directions with regard to preparing his horse,his baggage, and a conveyance for the latter, the two gentlemensallied forth to the magistrate's room in the town, where they foundMr. Wittingham seated with a clerk, the inferior attorney of theplace. The latter was a man well fitted to prompt an ignorant andself-conceited magistrate in a matter of difficulty, if its importancewere not very great, and he knew all the particulars. He was a littlefat compact man, in form, feature, and expression very like a Chinesepig. His nose had the peculiar turn-up of the snout of that animal,his small eyes the same sagacious twinkle, his retreating under-jawthe same voracious and ever-ready look, and when at all puzzled hewould lift his head and give a peculiar snort, so exceedingly porcinein its tone, that one could scarcely divest one's self of the ideathat he was one of the mud-loving herd.
On the present occasion, indeed, he was ignorant of the facts of thecase about to be brought before Mr. Wittingham. The latter gentlemanhaving considered with great solicitude whether he should make himacquainted with all that had occurred and seek his advice andco-operation. But Mr. Wittingham was cautious, exceedingly cautious,as I have already shown, when no strong passion caused him to act in adecided manner upon the spur of the moment. His natural impulse mightindeed be vehement, and he frequently had to repeat to himself thatsage adage, "The least said is soonest mended," before he could gethimself to refrain from saying a word to the clerk, Mr. Bacon, exceptthat two men had come to him the night before with a cock-and-a-bullstory about a highway robbery of which he did not believe a word, andthey were to come again that morning, when he should sift themthoroughly.
Now it is wonderful how the very least bits of art will frequentlybetray the artist. Mr. Wittingham merely said, "Two men," which ledhis clerk, Mr. Bacon, to suppose that he had never seen either of thetwo men before; but when Mr. Beauchamp appeared, in company with NedHayward, and the clerk recollected that the magistrate had veryfrequently wondered in his presence, who M
r. Beauchamp could be, andhad directed him to make every sort of inquiry, he naturally said tohimself, "Ha, ha, Wittingham has got something that he wishes toconceal; if not, why didn't he say at once that Beauchamp was one ofthe two. There's a screw loose somewhere, that's clear."
On Ned Hayward the clerk's small eyes fixed with a keen, inquisitive,and marvelling glance, as with his gay dashing air, half military,half sporting, firm and yet light, measured and yet easy, he advancedinto the room and approached the table. It was a sort of animal thatMr. Bacon had never seen in his life before, and he looked just like ayoung pig when it sees a stagecoach dash by, standing firm for aminute, but ready in an instant to toss up its snout, curl up itstail, and caper off with a squeak as fast as it can go.
"Well, Mr. Witherington," said Ned Hayward, perfectly aware thatnothing so much provokes a pompous man as mistaking his name, "here weare according to appointment, and doubtless you are ready to take ourdepositions, Mr. Witherington."
"Wittingham, Sir," said the magistrate, impressively, laying a strongemphasis on each syllable, "I beg you'll give me my own name, andnobody else's."
"Ay, ay, Whittington," said Ned Hayward, with the utmost composure, "Iforgot; I knew it was some absurd name in an old ballad or story, andconfounded you somehow or other with the man in 'Chevy Chase' who
When his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumps.
But I remember now, you're the son of the Lord Mayor of London, thecat-man."
"No, Sir, no," exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, whose face had turned purplewith rage, "I am not his son, and you must be a fool to think so, forhe died two hundred years ago."
"Oh, I know nothing of history," said Ned Hayward, laughing, "andbesides, I dare say it's all a fable."
"This gentleman's name is Wittingham, Sir," said the clerk, "W-I-T-wit,T-I-N-G-ting, H-A-M ham, Wittingham."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Sir," said the young gentleman, "I shan'tforget it now, '_Littera scripta manet_,' Mr. What's-your-name?"
"My name is Bacon, Sir," said the clerk, with a grunt.
"Ah, very well, very well," replied Ned Hayward, "now to business.Wittingham, Bacon, and Co., I shan't forget that; an excellent goodfirm, especially when the junior partner is cut into rashers and wellroasted. We are here, Sir, to tender information upon oath, when itcan no longer be of any avail, which we tendered last night, when itmight have been of avail, in regard to an attempt at highway robberycommitted yesterday evening upon the persons of two ladies in thisneighbourhood, namely, Mrs. Clifford and her daughter."
"Tendered last night, Sir!" exclaimed the clerk, in spite of atremendous nudge from Mr. Wittingham, "pray whom did you tender itto?"
"To the right reverend gentleman on the bench," said Ned Hayward, witha profound bow to the worthy magistrate; and then looking at him fullin the face with a significant smile, the young gentleman added, "herefused to take our depositions on secret motives, or information ofhis own, which as it was kept in the profound depth of his mind, Iwill not pretend to penetrate."
Mr. Wittingham was in a state of most distressing perplexity. Hisfears were a powder magazine, Ned Hayward's smile was a spark, andthere was a terrible explosion in his chest, which had nearly blownthe window out.
"I--I--you see, Bacon," he whispered to the clerk, "I thought it wasall nonsense, I was sure it was all nonense--you may see by thefellow's manner that it is so--Who'd attend to such stuff?"
"I don't know, Sir," said the clerk, "magistrates are bound to takeinformations of felonies tendered on oath; but we shall soon see whohe is; we'll swear him," and taking up a paper from the table he beganto write, lifting up his head after a moment and inquiring, "What isyour name and profession?"
"My name is Edward Hayward," answered our friend, "late captain in HisMajesty's 40th regiment, now unattached."
Mr. Wittingham's face grew blanker and blanker. Yamen's own could nothave looked a more russetty brown. He did not know how to interferewith the clerk, or how to proceed himself; but at length, after sundryhums and haws, he said, "I think we had better hear the whole storyfirst, and then take down the deposition if we should find itnecessary. If Mrs. Clifford was robbed, or attempted to be robbed, whythe devil doesn't Mrs. Clifford come to give me information herself? Isee no reason why we should suffer such accounts to be gone into bydeputy. The offence was against Mrs. Clifford, and we shall always beready to balance."
"The offence was against the law of the land, Sir," said Mr.Beauchamp, stepping forward, "and we who witnessed the offence, andprevented it from being carried further, now come forward to demandthat interference of justice which cannot be refused, without greatdanger to those who deny it."
"Well, well," said Mr. Wittingham, "I am not going to deny it; let ushear your story, and as you are one of the informers, be so good as tofavour us with your name, profession, &c."
"My name, Sir, is Beauchamp," replied the gentleman he addressed,"profession, I am sorry to say, I have none."
"Ah," said the magistrate drily, but the clerk whispered sharply inhis ear: "He has two thousand pounds in the bank, paid in the daybefore yesterday. Jenkins told me last night at the Free and Easy, soit's all a mistake about his being--you know what."
The clerk had a reverence for gentlemen who had two thousand pounds atone time in a country bank--much greater reverence than for captainsof infantry unattached; and consequently he proceeded to take Mr.Beauchamp's deposition first, with all due respect, notwithstandingevery thing Mr. Wittingham could do to embarrass his course ofoperations. Then came Ned Hayward's turn, but our good friend thoughtfit to be more serious when an oath had been administered, anddelivered his evidence with gravity and propriety. As soon, however,as Mr. Wittingham began to meddle with the matter again, and to treatthe affair as one of little consequence, and not deserving muchconsideration, the spirit of malicious fun seized upon Ned once more,and he said with a mysterious air, "Sir, I beg you will give this yourmost serious attention, for you cannot yet tell what parties may beimplicated. In giving our testimony of course we speak to facts alone.I have strictly confined myself to what I saw, and have not evenmentioned one circumstance of which I have even a shade of doubt; butwithout interfering with your business, Mr. Skittington--for I nevertake another man's trade upon me--yet I shall certainly feel myselfcalled upon to investigate quietly, and by all lawful means, the wholeparticulars of this business. That a felony has been committed therecan be no doubt; two pistols were fired at me with intent to take mylife, or do me some grievous bodily harm; one ball went through myhair, and the matter is a very grave one, which may probably bringsome respectable persons into a noose under a gallows. Look to it,look to it, Mr. Whittington, for I shall certainly look to it myself."
"Well, Sir, well, do any thing you please," said the magistrate, "Iwill do my duty without being tutored by you. I consider your conductvery disrespectful and--"
But ere he could finish the sentence the door of the justice-roomopened, and a young man entered dressed in the garb of a gentleman.Mr. Wittingham's face turned as pale as death, and Ned Hayward fixedhis eyes for an instant--a single instant--upon the countenance of thenew comer. It was by no means a prepossessing one, and the expressionwas not improved by a black handkerchief being tied over one eye, andhiding part of the nose and cheek. The young officer instantlywithdrew his eyes, and fixed them sternly on the ground. "This is tooimpudent," he thought, and there was a momentary hesitation in hismind as to whether he should not at once point out the intruder as thechief offender in the acts lately under discussion. Good-nature,however prevailed, and while Henry Wittingham advanced straight to hisfather's side, and with a look of bold fierceness whispered a word inhis ear, Ned Hayward turned to the door, saying, "Come, Beauchamp, ourbusiness here is over, and I must go up to Sir John Slingsby's."
Beauchamp followed him, after giving a sharp glance at HenryWittingham, and at the door of the house they saw a horse standingwhich seemed to have been ridden hard.
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