“I will not rise till I have a favorable answer, adorable Thomasine!” said Sir Singleton. “Will you be mine? — will you fly with me?”
“I cannot,” replied the fair Thomasine, turning round with such suddenness that the little barber had barely time to duck down to escape observation. “I cannot. I have already told you a hundred times, I am engaged to Peter Pokerich.”
“I will cut the little rascal’s throat!” cried Sir Singleton, rising, and clapping his hand on his sword. “I will belabour him with his own pole.”
“No, don’t!” said the fair Thomasine— “I should go distracted, like Ophelia, if any harm were to happen to him. Poor Peter is so very fond of me — so very, very fond! At one time, he was a little inconstant, to be sure — slightly dazzled by the charms of the miser’s lovely daughter. But latterly, he has become quite devoted.”
“He cannot love you a thousandth part as well as I love you.” said the old beau— “it is not in his vulgar nature. Besides, I can make you Lady Spinke — can put you at the head of a splendid establishment — cover you with diamonds — introduce you to the first society — take you every night to some fine lady’s drum — to Ranelagh — to Vauxhall — or to the playhouses.”
“It sounds delightful, indeed!” said the fair Thomasine, whose eyes sparkled at the beau’s enumeration of the pleasures he had in store for her. “But will you really make me Lady Spinke?”
“I swear it!” cried the old beau. “Oh! you are mine! — say you are mine!”
“No, you’re too old for me!” said the fair Thomasine. “I don’t think I could marry you.”
The unhappy barber, who had almost sunk into the floor, here revived again.
“Too old!” exclaimed Sir Singleton. “Why I’m in the very prime of life. But granting that I am old, you’ll the sooner be a widow, Lady Spinke, with a handsome jointure — think of that!”
“A large jointure is very tempting, certainly,” said the fair Thomasine, musingly.
“You can’t hesitate, I’m sure, my charmer,” cried the old beau, “between the brilliant life I hold out to you, and the wretched one you will be condemned to with your little barber. Give him up at once. Leave him to his wigs, his pomatum, his powder-puff, and his blocks, and let him marry some bar-maid, or serving-woman, — the only creatures fit for him.”
“Lady Singleton Spinke and Mrs. Peter Pokerich do sound very differently,” said the fair Thomasine. “I should mightily like to be ‘your ladyship.’”
“So would most women, but it isn’t every one who has the opportunity,” rejoined the old beau.
“And then I must have a fine gilt coach?” pursued the fair Thomasine.
“It is yours,” replied Sir Singleton.
“And beautiful dresses?” she continued.
“As many as you like,” he answered. “I’ll buy your father’s whole stock of silks.”
“And magnificent diamonds?”
“Equal to a Duchess’s.”
“And I shall go to court?”
“You shall.”
“And to Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and the playhouses?”
“As often as you please.”
“Well, then, I almost — but oh dear! it would be so wrong — no, I can’t consent. ’Twould break my Peter’s heart.”
“Peter’s heart will soon be mended again,” replied Sir Singleton. “I’ll have a coach and four at the corner of the street at five o’clock to-morrow morning; and then we’ll drive a few miles out of town for an airing, and return to breakfast — and to the Fleet, where we’ll be married.”
“Don’t expect me, I never can make up my mind to so fearful a step,” said the fair Thomasine pathetically and undecisively.
“Well, I shall be there, at all events,” said the old beau, pressing her hand to his lips. “Farewell. At five.”
The little barber had heard enough. He darted off like a madman, and almost upset Trussell and Randulph, who as well as himself, had overheard what had passed. The next moment, the old beau issued forth, singing a French song and twirling his cane gaily.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, perceiving Trussell and Randulph, “what the deuce brings you here?”
“We came to look after the little barber, who ran away, leaving my wig only half dressed,” replied Trussell, “He has just rushed out of this shop as if he had gone distracted.”
“The devil!” exclaimed Sir Singleton; “then he has overheard my plan. I must change it.”
And stepping back to the fair Thomasine, he whispered, “Peter Pokerich has been playing the spy upon us. He may interfere with our arrangements. To-night at twelve, instead of to-morrow morning at five. Till then, ma belle, adieu!” And kissing his hand to her, he rejoined his friends.
“You are both going to Lady Brab’s, I suppose?” he said. “Sorry I can’t take you — we shall meet again in a few minutes.”
So saying, and strutting off triumphantly, he entered his chair, and was conveyed to Lady Brabazon’s, where Randulph and his uncle arrived a few minutes after him.
The dinner passed off delightfully. It was a small party, consisting of Sir Bulkeley Price, Sir Norfolk Salusbury, Firebras, and Lady Fazakerly. Everything was done to please Randulph, and the efforts were perfectly successful. The wine flowed freely after dinner — for it was a hard drinking age — and Randulph, who had been exceedingly temperate since the duel, began to feel the effect of it. As he was about to ascend to the drawing-room with the rest of the gentlemen, a note was handed him by a servant, which he instantly opened.
“What says your billet, nephew?” inquired Trussell, who was standing by.
“Oh! it is from Kitty Conway,” said Randulph. “She has found out, I know not how, that I am here, and wishes me to sup with her to-night for the last time.”
“And you will go, won’t you?” said Trussell.
“Not I,” replied Randulph, irresolutely.
“Oh, yes, you will,” said Trussell; “and I’ll accompany you on your last visit, as I did on your first.”
And they went upstairs laughingly to the drawing-room.
Time passed by so fleetly in the fascinating society of Lady Brabazon, that Randulph was surprised, on glancing at his watch, to find that it was nearly eleven o’clock.
“Jacob will be gone,” he thought, “and will think I have forgotten him.”
Hastily taking leave of Lady Brabazon, who chided him playfully for running away so early, and engaged him to call upon her on the following morning, he went downstairs, accompanied by Trussell. They found Jacob at the door, and in no very bland humour at having been kept so long.
“My time’s more than up,” said Jacob gruffly, “and I was just goin’ away. What I wanted to say to you is this. I’ve received a hint that master’s miserly nevy, Phillip Frewin, is about to decamp with the money I gave Mr. Diggs t’other day. He’s at the Crown Inn, Ox-Yard, King Street. Suppose you pay him a visit.”
“I’ll readily do so to-morrow, Jacob,” said Randulph; “but to-night, I’m engaged. Come along with me. My way lies in the same direction as yours, and shall be glad if you’ll accompany me. I want to talk to you about your master and young mistress.”
Jacob complied, and accompanied Randulph to the corner of Hedge Lane, a narrow thoroughfare running into Cockspur Street, where he took his leave. Randulph and his uncle then tracked the lane above mentioned, until they came to Whitcomb Street, where Kitty Conway then resided, having removed from the Haymarket to an old house in the latter street, erected three years after the Great Fire of London, namely, 1669. Randulph never having visited the pretty actress in her new abode, she had told him, that this date, which was inscribed in large figures on a shield over the door, would guide him to it.
As Randulph was looking out for the house, he observed three men at a little distance behind him, who seemed to be dogging him and his uncle. The foremost of them was a tall, thin man; the second a stout square-set personage, dressed in a shabby military garb; and
the third a great hulking fellow, with an atrociously black muzzle, dressed in a bluejacket, short trowsers, and woollen cap.
Randulph could not help fancying he had seen these personages before, though he could not tell where, but he did not concern himself much about them, until just as he had discovered Kitty Conway’s dwelling, and was about to knock at the door, he saw that they were quickening their pace towards him. On a nearer approach, he was at no loss to detect in the foremost, Philip Frewin; in the shabby military man, the bravo, Captain Culpepper; and in the athletic, black muzzled sailor, the fellow who had officiated as Jack-in-the-water at the Folly on the Thames.
“Here is your man!” cried Philip, pointing to Randulph, “upon him! don’t leave an unbroken bone in his body.”
Randulph, however, was prepared for the attack. Grasping the stout cane he held in his hand, he dealt Philip so severe a blow on the head with it, that he stretched him on his back on the ground. At the same moment, Trussell received a blow from the cudgel of the black-muzzled ruffian which sent him reeling against the door, to the posts of which he clung for support, while the fellow, turning to assault Randulph, encountered an unexpected adversary in the person of Jacob Post.
“I thought what you were after, you scoundrels, when I saw you doggin’ these gen’l’men,” cried Jacob; “I’m glad I got up in time. Turn your cudgel this way, you black-muzzled hound. Two can play at your game.”
While Jacob and his antagonist rapped away at each other as hard as they could, making the welkin ring with their blows, Randulph turned upon Culpepper, who attempted to draw his sword to assail him, and belaboured him so lustily with his cane, that the latter was soon fain to cry for quarter.
The sound of the cudgels, and the vociferations of the combatants, had alarmed the watch, who springing their rattles, hastened to the scene of strife, while Kitty Conway, hearing the noise, opened a window above, and seeing what was passing in the street, added her shrieks to the general clamour.
Before, however, the watch could come up, Jacob had brought his black-muzzled antagonist to the ground, while Culpepper had taken to his heels without being able to strike a single blow.
* * *
CHAPTER VI.
By What Device Philip Frewin Got Off; and How Randulph and Trussell Were Locked Up in the Watch-House.
Seeing no chance of escape, Philip Frewin suddenly started to his feet, and running towards the watchman, plucked off his wig to show the extent of the injuries he had received, and charged the others with an assault upon him.
“My skull’s fractured, I believe,” he groaned; “and if you hadn’t come up, I dare say I should have been killed outright. There stands the ruffian, who knocked me down,” he added, pointing to Randulph.
“You yourself commenced the assault, scoundrel,” replied Randulph, stepping forward; “and if you have been severely punished, you have only met with your desert.”
“This device shall not serve your turn, villain,” rejoined Philip. “Secure him, watchman. I’ll swear he meant to rob and murder me.”
“This is a serious charge,” said the watchman to Randulph; “and if the gen’l’man persist in it, I must take you in custody. I was in hopes, and so was you, Charley, wasn’t you,” he added, appealing to the other watchman, who replied by a confirmatory grunt, “that it was only a bit of a fight between some gentlefolks about a girl, or some trifling matter of the sort, and that it might be set to rights by a bowl of punch among themselves, and a crown or so to us, poor fellows. But this is another matter altogether.”
“What has been stated is utterly false,” replied Randulph. “I was walking quietly along this street with my relative, who has sustained quite as much personal damage as any one in the fray, when this scoundrel, accompanied by two other ruffians, suddenly attacked me; and if it had not been for the assistance afforded me by that stout porter,” pointing to Jacob Post, “I might not now be in a condition to give this explanation.”
“The young gen’l’man speaks the truth, watchman,” interposed Jacob; “if there’s been any robbery and assault intended, (which I doubt,) it hasn’t been on his part.”
“You won’t listen to what this fellow says, watchman!” cried Philip; “he’s one of the gang.”
“I declare I’m quite perplexed by these contradictory statements, Charley,” said the foremost watchman; “but I s’pose the best plan will be to take ’em all to the watchus.”
“I s’pose so, Sam,” replied the other.
“I shan’t be taken!” cried Jacob, gruffly; “what’ll become of my poor master, if I don’t go home?”
“You hear what he says, watchman?” cried Philip; “he wants to be off. Secure him.”
“Ay, ay, never fear!” cried the watchman, throwing himself on Jacob. “Spring the rattle, Charley.”
His comrade obeyed, and by this time several other persons having come up, Jacob was secured, and Randulph, who offered no resistance, surrounded and made prisoner. Trussell, who had partly recovered from the effects of the blow, was likewise seized, and the black-muzzled Jack, who appeared much injured, was also lifted up, and supported between two men. After some further objurgation and discussion, the foremost watchman gave the word to move on, when the door of the house near them opened, and Kitty Conway rushed forth, and made her way through the crowd, to Randulph.
“This is all a mistake!” she cried to the watchmen; “you are taking away the wrong persons. This gentleman, Mr. Randulph Crew, was coming to sup with me. I was expecting him, and hearing a noise in the street, I opened my window, and witnessed the affray.”
“Well, and what did you see, madam — what did you see?” demanded Philip, fiercely.
“I saw Randulph Crew knock you down,” replied Kitty.
“To be sure.” replied Philip; “he did knock me down, and would have killed me if he could. This woman’s evidence corroborates my statement.”
“But I heard from the shouts that you were the first assailant, Philip,” replied Kitty. “Besides, Captain Culpepper was with you, — though he was beaten off by Randulph.”
“Don’t Philip me, ma’am!” cried the other; “I don’t know you, and don’t desire to know you — neither do I know anything of Captain Culpepper. You want to get off your friend, that’s evident, but it won’t do. He’ll pass the night in the watchhouse, instead of supping with you. Go on, watchman!”
“I shouldn’t mind being locked up in the watchhouse,” said Jacob; “but what’ll my young missis think of it? — what’ll become of my poor master? If anythin’ happens to him, I shall never forgive myself. I wish somebody would take a message from me to Miss Scarve in the Little Sanctuary, — it would make me more easy.”
“I will take it,” said Kitty, readily; “and will explain all.”
“You!” exclaimed Jacob. “No; that’ll never do.” But before he could get out the latter part of his speech, Kitty had retired, and he was forced on by his captors.
The party took the direction of Piccadilly, Philip Frewin walking by the side of Sam, the foremost watchman, who kept fast hold of his arm, and the others following. As they drew near the top of the Haymarket, Philip said in a low tone to the watchman,— “You’ll make more out of this job by letting me go, than by detaining me.”
“Which way?” asked Sam, in the same tone.
“Here are five guineas,” replied Philip, slipping a purse into the other’s hand; “contrive my escape, and that of the black-muzzled fellow in the sailor’s dress; but lock up the others all night.”
Sam held the money to the light, and saw that it was all right.
“I’ll manage it,” he said. “So the charge you preferred against ’em was all gammon, eh?”
“To be sure,” replied Philip; “but keep them safely under lock and key till to-morrow morning, and I’ll double what I’ve just given you. You’ll find me on the spot to-morrow night, at ten.”
“That’ll do,” replied Sam. “And here we’re at the top o’ th
e Haymarket. Give me a push, and then make off as fast as you can. I’ll take care of the rest. Your black-muzzled friend shall get his liberty by-and-by.”
Philip obeyed these instructions to the letter. Turning suddenly upon the watchman, and thrusting him forcibly backwards, he set off as fast as his legs could carry him. Sam instantly started in pursuit, calling loudly to his brethren to take care of the other prisoners; but he returned a few minutes afterwards, out of breath, and swearing that the fellow had managed to get off. Feigning to be in a very ill-humour, he returned a surly reply to Randulph’s remarks on his carelessness, and hurried the prisoners along until they reached Air-street, where the watch-house was situated. The door was instantly opened by a constable, with whom Sam exchanged a few words in an undertone; after which the prisoners were led down a narrow, dirty passage, and thrust into a filthy looking hole, furnished only with a couple of benches, on which three or four persons of very equivocal appearance were stretched. Sam then, for the first time, appeared to notice the absence of the black-muzzled Jack, and inquiring where he was, was told that he had also contrived to escape.
“Escaped! has he?” cried Sam, affecting to be in a great passion; “why zounds! they slip out of your fingers like eels. However, those three are safe enough, that’s some comfort.”
“If our accuser is gone,” cried Randulph, looking round the chamber with inexpressible disgust, “why are we detained?”
“You’re detained on a serious charge,” replied Sam; “and I can’t take upon me to let you go. But I’ll fetch Mr. Foggo, the constable, and if he likes to liberate you, that’ll be his concern.”
So saying, he went forth with his comrades, locking the door after him.
“An agreeable situation, uncle,” said Randulph to Trussell, who had seated himself on the extremity of one of the benches.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 319