Lost Sir Massingberd: A Romance of Real Life. v. 2/2

by James Payn

  CHAPTER X.

  A DETECTIVE OF HALF A CENTURY AGO.

  Mr. Gerard had hardly finished speaking, when the butler announced Mr.Clint and "another gentleman," for even among friends the famous BowStreet officer, exercised his usual caution; and yet there was scarcelya more public character than Townshend, or better known both to theclasses whom he protected, and to that against which he waged suchconstant war. His personal appearance was itself sufficientlyremarkable. A short squab man, in a light wig, kerseymere breeches, anda blue Quaker-cut coat, he was not, to look at, a very formidableobject. But he possessed the courage of a lion, and the cunning of afox. The ruffians who kept society in terror, themselves quailed before_him_. They knew that he was hard to kill, and valued not his own lifeone rush, when duty called upon him to hazard it; that he was faithfulas a watch-dog to the government which employed him, and hated by naturea transgressor of the law, as a watch-dog hates a wolf. When Townshendfairly settled himself down upon the track of an offender, the poorwretch felt like the hare whose fleeing footsteps the stoat relentlesslypursues; he might escape for the day, or even the morrow, but sooner orlater his untiring foe was certain to be up with him. In those earlydays, when the telegraph could not overtake the murderer speeding forhis life, and set Justice upon her guard five hundred miles away, tointercept him, and when the sun was not the slave of the Law, tophotograph the features of the doomed criminal, so that he can berecognized as easily as Cain, thief-catching was a much more protractedbusiness than it is now; nevertheless, it was at least as certain.

  If the facilities for capture were not so great, neither were theopportunities of escape for the offender so many and various. London wasnot the labyrinth that it has since become, and if any criminal of noteforsook it for the provinces, his fate was almost certain. Travellersdid not then rush hither and thither, in throngs of a hundred strong,impossible to be individually identified by the railway porter to whomthey surrender their tickets; but each man was entered in a way-bill, orscanned with curiosity by innkeeper and post-boy, wherever his chaisechanged horses. When any considerable sum was sent by mail-coach,whether by the government or by London bankers, to their provincialagents, it was not unusual to employ Mr. Townshend as an escort. Nor wasit altogether unexampled for him to be sent for, as in the presentinstance, to unravel some domestic mystery; although he was perhaps thefirst police-officer who had been so employed, the father of all theFields and Pollakies of the present day. He was on intimate terms,therefore, with many great people, and an especial favourite with thecourt, his professional services being engaged at all drawing-rooms andstate occasions. This, combined with the natural assurance and sense ofpower in the man, caused Mr. Townshend to hold his head pretty high, andto treat with persons vastly superior in social station to himself uponat least an equal footing. His easy nod, with which the great BowStreet runner favoured us in Harley Street that evening, upon his firstintroduction, was not very much unlike the salutation which Mr. Brummel,at the same period, was wont to bestow upon British marquises and dukes.Having taken his seat at the dessert-table, at the host's desire, he atonce began to compliment Mr. Gerard upon the contents of the bottle withthe yellow seal, and, in short, behaved himself in all respects as anyother guest would have done who was an intimate friend of the family,and had dropped in after dinner upon his own invitation. No sooner,however, did Mr. Clint introduce the subject which had called us up totown, and Mr. Long begin to recapitulate the story of Sir Massingberd'sdisappearance, than this singular person dropped at once all socialpretension, and showed himself the really great man he was. One glass ofwine was sufficient for him during the whole narration, and that heseemed to sip mechanically, and rather as an assistance to thought, thanbecause he really enjoyed it, which, however there is no doubt he did.He only interrupted my tutor twice or thrice, in order to make somepertinent interrogation, and when all had been described (including aslight sketch of Marmaduke's position), he sat for a little silent andnoiseless, tapping his wine-glass with his forefinger, and staring intothe fire.

  "Well, Mr. Townshend, and what is your opinion?" inquired Mr. Gerard alittle impatiently. "Do you think that this Lost Sir Massingberd isalive or dead?"

  "That is a question which a fool would answer at once, sir, but a wiseman would take some time to reply to," returned the Bow Street runnercoolly, "But one thing you may depend upon, that he will not be 'Lost'long. I have blotted that word out of my dictionary. I know SirMassingberd Heath well, or, at least, I did know him, and that is agreat advantage to start with; he was not a man, I should think, tochange with age. Tall figure and strong; large piercing eyes; muchbeard; a mouth that tells he likes to have his own way; and on hisforehead a mark as if the devil had kicked him."

  "That is excellent," cried Mr. Gerard; "you could not mistake him forany other man in London."

  "He is _not_ in London, sir," observed the runner dogmatically. "If hewere mixing with the lot that he used to be amongst, I should surelyhave heard of it; and if he is with people much beneath him in station,I should have learned it still more certainly. As for that, however, heis not one--if I remember him right--to hide himself, or work muchunderground."

  "If you mean that he would not stoop to deception, Mr. Townshend,"remarked my tutor gravely, "I am afraid you are mistaken; the very moneywhich, as I have said, he obtained from me upon the day of hisdisappearance, was dishonourably come by. His pretext of the Methodistshaving bidden for a piece of ground upon which to build a chapel withinthe Park, and almost opposite the Rectory, was, I have since discovered,entirely false; and I cannot but fear that some judgment has overtakenthis unhappy man."

  Here, I am sorry to say, that Mr. Clint and Mr. Gerard looked at oneanother in rather a comic manner, and the Bow Street runner helpedhimself to a glass of the particular with an open chuckle.

  "Well, sir," responded that gentleman, "you see Judgments isn't much inmy way. When I catches a chap, he generally knows its judgment andexecution too; but barring that, I doubt whether there is much of aspecial Providence for rascals--even when they rob a Church minister.Not, of course, that I am saying Sir Massingberd Heath, baronet, is arascal, or anything like it; I never had anything to do with him in allmy life before this, and that's a good sign, look you. When I said hewas not a man to work underground, however, I did not mean that he wouldnot employ every ingenious device--and the one you mention was one ofthe neatest I ever heard on--to procure money, but that he is of toodomineering and masterful a nature to lurk and spy about. The younggentleman here need not be in much alarm, I think, of his relative'sturning up in Harley Street; notwithstanding which, he is a veryticklish customer, no doubt, and one as I should not have been in theleast surprised to find myself under orders to fit with a pair ofbracelets, for such a thing, for instance, as murder."

  I think each of us started and looked at one another in hushed amazementat this statement; and the wine-glass which Marmaduke was twistingnervously in his fingers, rattled against the table in spite of hisefforts to remain calm.

  "I mean," observed Mr. Townshend, in explanation, "as the baronet, whenI knew him at least, was venomous, yet likewise hasty; and thoughcunning enough, if his temper got the better of him, would do imprudentthings, I remember him well-nigh killing his jockey on the course atDoncaster--it was the second year as ever the Leger was ran for--andall for no fault of his, but just because he didn't win when his masterexpected it. I remember how the crowd hissed the gentleman, and the uglylook which he gave them in reply. There was no fuss made about thematter afterwards; but Sir Massingberd had to supply a deal of GoldenOintment to the poor lad's bruises: he was very free-handed with hismoney at that time. I suppose, by the pace he was then going, that hehas not much left."

  "He has almost literally not a shilling," replied Mr. Long. "I am quitecertain that he had no ready-money in his possession besides the twentyone-pound notes which he obtained from me upon that evening."

  "And no means of raising any?" inquired Mr. Townshend.


  "None whatever," replied my tutor positively.

  "That simplifies the business a good deal," remarked the Bow Streetrunner, drawing out his pocket-book. "Now, I suppose you kept thenumbers of those notes?"

  "Yes, I did. Peter, did you not write them down for me?"

  "The notes ran from 82961 to 82980 inclusive," said I.

  "A very concise and sensible statement, young gentleman,"[1] remarkedthe police-officer, approvingly; "I should like, however, to see thefigures in black and white." When these had been found among certainmemorandums of my tutor, Mr. Townshend copied them, and thus continued:"Now, the first thing as has to be done, gentleman all--by which nooffence is meant to the young lady--is this: we must go to the Bank ofEngland, and find out if any of these here notes have been paid in sinceNovember 16th. If they have been, one of two things is certain--SirMassingberd is spending them, or somebody else is spending them for him.If the latter, it is probable that it is not with his consent; that is,that he can't help it; that is, that he's dead as a ten-penny nail;" andwith that the speaker brought down his fist upon the mahogany, as thoughhe were hammering one in.

  "We shall leave the case, Mr. Townshend, entirely in your hands,"observed Mr. Gerard; "and please to look to me for any expenses you mayrequire."

  "Very good, sir," replied the runner, rising as if to take his leave;"but since two or three heads are always better than one, in cases ofthis sort, and the present company has their wits about them--which isby no means the case with many as I have to do with--I should be glad ofa little assistance from yourselves."

  "Don't you think we ought to advertise the baronet as missing, and offera reward?" suggested Mr. Clint.

  "There will be no harm in that, of course," replied Mr. Townshendcarelessly; "although I can't say as I have much confidence inadvertisements; my own experience is, that parties who put them inderive some satisfaction from reading them over to themselves, but theadvantage don't go much beyond that---except that it sometimes putspeople upon their guard as one wants to be off it. I have got a littlepressing business on hand to-morrow--in the forging line--and must nowbe off; but if one or two of you will be at the Bank to-morrowafternoon, at, let us say three o'clock, I shall be sure to be there tomeet you."

  [1] Every lad in my position, not yet turned twenty-one, was a "younggentleman" in these times; we were not so tenacious of our dignity asthe young men of to-day.