CHAPTER LXXIX.
Nihil est furacius illo
Non fuit Autolyci tam piccata manus.
--Martial.
Quo teneam vultus mutantem Protea nodo?
--Horace.
When I left the magistrate, I knew not whither my next step should tend.
There was, however, no time to indulge the idle stupor, which Glanville's
situation at first occasioned; with a violent effort, I shook it off, and
bent all my mind to discover the best method to avail myself, to the
utmost, of the short reprieve I had succeeded in obtaining; at length,
one of those sudden thoughts which, from their suddenness appear more
brilliant than they really are, flashed upon my mind. I remembered the
accomplished character of Mr. Job Jonson, and the circumstance of my
having seen him in company with Thornton. Now, although it was not very
likely that Thornton should have made Mr. Jonson his confidant, in any of
those affairs which it was so essentially his advantage to confine
exclusively to himself; yet the acuteness and penetration visible in the
character of the worthy Job, might not have lain so fallow during his
companionship with Thornton, but that it might have made some discoveries
which would considerably assist me in my researches; besides, as it is
literally true in the systematized roguery of London, that "birds of a
feather flock together," it was by no means unlikely that the honest Job
might be honoured with the friendship of Mr. Dawson, as well as the
company of Mr. Thornton; in which case I looked forward with greater
confidence to the detection of the notable pair.
I could not, however, conceal from myself, that this was but a very
unstable and ill-linked chain of reasoning, and there were moments, when
the appearances against Glanville wore so close a semblance of truth,
that all my friendship could scarcely drive from my mind an intrusive
suspicion that he might have deceived me, and that the accusation might
not be groundless.
This unwelcome idea did not, however, at all lessen the rapidity with
which I hastened towards the memorable gin shop, where I had whilom met
Mr. Gordon--there I hoped to find either the address of that gentleman,
or of the "Club," to which he had taken me, in company with Tringle and
Dartmore: either at this said club, or of that said gentleman, I thought
it not unlikely that I might hear some tidings of the person of Mr. Job
Jonson--if not, I was resolved to return to the office, and employ Mr.--
my mulberry-cheeked acquaintance of the last night, in a search after the
holy Job.
Fate saved me a world of trouble; as I was hastily walking onwards, I
happened to turn my eyes on the opposite side of the way, and discovered
a man dressed, in what the newspapers term, the very height of the
fashion, namely, in the most ostentatious attire that ever flaunted at
Margate, or blazoned in the Palais Royale. The nether garments of this
petit maitre, consisted of a pair of blue tight pantaloons, profusely
braided, and terminating in Hessian boots, adorned with brass spurs of
the most burnished resplendency; a black velvet waistcoat, studded with
gold stars, was backed by a green frock coat, covered, notwithstanding
the heat of the weather, with fur, and frogged and cordonne with the most
lordly indifference, both as to taste and expense: a small French hat,
which might not have been much too large for my Lord of P--, was set
jauntily in the centre of a system of long black curls, which my eye,
long accustomed to penetrate the arcana of habilatory art, discovered at
once to be a wig. A fierce black mustacheo, very much curled, wandered
lovingly from the upper lip, towards the eyes, which had an unfortunate
prepossession for eccentricity in their direction. To complete the
picture, we must suppose some colouring--and this consisted in a very
nice and delicate touch of the rouge pot, which could not be called by so
harsh a term as paint; say, rather that it was a tinge.
No sooner had I set my eyes upon this figure, than I crossed over to the
side of the way which it was adorning, and followed its motions at a
respectful but observant distance.
At length my freluquet marched into a jeweller's shop in Oxford-street;
with a careless air, I affected, two minutes afterwards, to saunter into
the same shop; the shopman was shewing his bijouterie to him of the
Hessians with the greatest respect; and, beguiled by the splendour of the
wig and waistcoat, turned me over to his apprentice--another time, I
might have been indignant at perceiving that the air noble, on which I
piqued myself far more than all other gifts of nature, personal or
mental, was by no means so universally acknowledged as I had vainly
imagined--at that moment I was too occupied to think of my insulted
dignity. While I was pretending to appear wholly engrossed with some
seals, I kept a vigilant eye on my superb fellow customer: at last, I saw
him secrete a diamond ring, and thrust it, by a singular movement of the
fore finger, up the fur cuff of his capacious sleeve; presently, some
other article of minute size disappeared in the like manner.
The gentleman then rose, expressed himself very well satisfied by the
great taste of the jeweller, said he should look in again on Saturday,
when he hoped the set he had ordered would be completed, and gravely took
his departure amidst the prodigal bows of the shopman and his helpmates;
meanwhile, I bought a seal of small value, paid for it, and followed my
old acquaintance, for the reader has doubtless discovered, long before
this, that the gentleman was no other than Mr. Job Jonson.
Slowly and struttingly did the man of two virtues perform the whole
pilgrimage of Oxford-street. He stopped at Cumberland-gate, and, looking
round, with an air of gentlemanlike indecision, seemed to consider
whether or not he should join the loungers in the park: fortunately for
that well bred set, his doubts terminated in their favour, and Mr. Job
Jonson entered the park. Every one happened to be thronging to Kensington
Gardens, and the man of two virtues accordingly cut across the park, as
the shortest, but the least frequented way thither, in order to confer
upon them the dangerous honour of his company.
Directly I perceived that there were but few persons in the immediate
locality to observe me, and that those consisted of a tall guardsman and
his wife, a family of young children, with their nursery-maid, and a
debilitated East India captain; walking for the sake of his liver, I
overtook the incomparable Job, made him a low bow, and thus reverently
accosted him--
"Mr. Jonson, I am delighted once more to meet you--suffer me to remind
you of the very pleasant morning I passed with you in the neighbourhood
of Hampton Court. I perceive, by your mustachios and military dress, that
you have entered the army since that day; I congratulate the British
troops on such an admirable acquisition."
Mr. Jonson's assurance forsook him for a moment, but he lost no time in
regaining a quality which was so natural to his character. He assumed a
fierce look, and relevant sa moustache sourit amerement, like Voltaire's
governor [Note: Don Fernand d'Ibarra in the "Candide"]--"D--n your eyes,
Sir," he cried, "do you mean to insult me? I know none of your Mr.
Jonsons, and I never set my eyes upon you before."
"Lookye, my dear Mr. Job Jonson," replied I, "as I can prove not only all
I say, but much more that I shall not say--such as your little mistakes
just now, at the jeweller's shop in Oxford-street, perhaps it would be
better for you not to oblige me to create a mob, and give you in charge--
pardon my abruptness of speech--to a constable!--Surely there will be no
need of such a disagreeable occurrence, when I assure you, in the first
place, that I perfectly forgive you for ridding me of the unnecessary
comforts of a pocket-book and handkerchief, the unphilosophical appendage
of a purse, and the effeminate gage d'amour of a gold bracelet; nor is
this all--it is perfectly indifferent to me, whether you levy
contributions on jewellers or gentlemen, and I am very far from wishing
to intrude upon your harmless occupations, or to interfere with your
innocent amusements. I see, Mr. Jonson, that you are beginning to
understand me; let me facilitate so desirable an end by an additional
information, that, since it is preceded with a promise to open my purse,
may tend somewhat to open your heart; I am, at this moment, in great want
of your assistance--favour me with it, and I will pay you to your soul's
content. Are we friends now, Mr. Job Jonson?"
My old friend burst out into a loud laugh. "Well, Sir, I must say that
your frankness enchants me. I can no longer dissemble with you; indeed, I
perceive, it would be useless; besides, I always adored candour--it is my
favourite virtue. Tell me how I can help you, and you may command my
services."
"One word," said I: "will you be open and ingenuous with me? I shall ask
you certain questions, not in the least affecting your own safety, but to
which, if you would serve me, you must give me (and since candour is your
favourite virtue, this will be no difficult task) your most candid
replies. To strengthen you in so righteous a course, know also, that the
said replies will come verbatim before a court of law, and that,
therefore, it will be a matter of prudence to shape them as closely to
the truth as your inclinations will allow. To counterbalance this
information, which, I own, is not very inviting, I repeat, that the
questions asked you will be wholly foreign to your own affairs, and that,
should you prove of that assistance to me which I anticipate, I will so
testify my gratitude as to place you beyond the necessity of pillaging
rural young gentlemen and credulous shopkeepers for the future;--all your
present pursuits need only be carried on for your private amusement."
"I repeat, that you may command me," returned Mr. Jonson, gracefully
putting his hand to his heart.
"Pray, then," said I, "to come at once to the point, how long have you
been acquainted with Mr. Thomas Thornton?"
"For some months only," returned Job, without the least embarrassment.
"And Mr. Dawson?" said I.
A slight change came over Jonson's countenance: he hesitated. "Excuse me,
Sir," said he; "but I am, really, perfectly unacquainted with you, and I
may be falling into some trap of the law, of which, Heaven knows, I am as
ignorant as a babe unborn."
I saw the knavish justice of this remark; and in my predominating zeal to
serve Glanville, I looked upon the inconvenience of discovering myself to
a pickpocket and sharper, as a consideration not worth attending to. In
order, therefore, to remove his doubts, and, at the same time, to have a
more secret and undisturbed place for our conference, I proposed to him
to accompany me home; at first, Mr. Jonson demurred, but I soon half
persuaded and half intimidated him into compliance.
Not particularly liking to be publicly seen with a person of his splendid
description and celebrated character, I made him walk before me to
Mivart's, and I followed him closely, never turning my eye, either to the
right or the left, lest he should endeavour to escape me. There was no
fear of this, for Mr. Jonson was both a bold and a crafty man, and it
required, perhaps, but little of his penetration to discover that I was
no officer nor informer, and that my communication had been of a nature
likely enough to terminate in his advantage; there was, therefore, but
little need of his courage in accompanying me to my hotel.
There were a good many foreigners of rank at Mivart's, and the waiters
took my companion for an ambassador at least:--he received their homage
with the mingled dignity and condescension natural to so great a man.
As the day was now far advanced, I deemed it but hospitable to offer Mr.
Job Jonson some edible refreshment. With the frankness on which he so
justly valued himself, he accepted my proposal. I ordered some cold meat,
and two bottles of wine; and, mindful of old maxims, deferred my business
till his repast was over. I conversed with him merely upon ordinary
topics, and, at another time, should have been much amused by the
singular mixture of impudence and shrewdness which formed the stratum of
his character.
At length his appetite was satisfied, and one of the bottles emptied;
with the other before him, his body easily reclining on my library chair,
his eyes apparently cast downwards, but ever and anon glancing up at my
countenance with a searching and curious look, Mr. Job Jonson prepared
himself for our conference; accordingly I began.
"You say that you are acquainted with Mr. Dawson; where is he at
present?"
"I don't know," answered Jonson, laconically.
"Come," said I, "no trifling--if you do not know, you can learn."
"Possibly I can, in the course of time," rejoined honest Job.
"If you cannot tell me his residence at once," said I, "our conference is
at an end; that is a leading feature in my inquiries."
Jonson paused before he replied--"You have spoken to me frankly, let us
do nothing by halves--tell me, at once, the nature of the service I can
do you, and the amount of my reward, and then you shall have my answer.
With respect to Dawson, I will confess to you, that I did once know him
well, and that we have done many a mad prank together, which I should not
like the bugaboos and bulkies to know; you will, therefore, see that I am
naturally reluctant to tell you any thing about him, unless your honour
will inform me of the why and the wherefore."
I was somewhat startled by this speech, and by the shrewd, cunning eye
which dwelt upon me, as it was uttered; but, however, I was by no means
sure, that acceding to his proposal would not be my readiest and wisest
way to the object I had in view. Nevertheless, there were some
preliminary questions to be got over first: perhaps Dawson might be too
dear a friend to the candid Job, for the latter to endanger his safety;
or perhaps, (and this was more probable,) Jonson might be perfectly
ignorant of any thing likely to aid me: in this case my communication
would be useless; accordingly I said, after a short consideration--
"Patience, my dear Mr. Jonson--patience, you shall know all in good time;
meanwhile I must--even for Dawson's sake--question you blindfold. What,
now, if your poor friend Dawson were in imminent danger, and that you
might have the power to save him, would you not do all you could?"
The small, coarse features of Mr. Job, grew blank, with a curious sort of
disappointment: "Is that all?" said he. "No! unless I were well paid for
my pains in his behalf, he might go to Botany Bay, for all I care."
"What!" I cried, in a tone of reproach, "is this your friendship? I
thought, just now, that you said Dawson had been an old and firm
associate of yours."
"An old one, your honour; but not a firm one. A short time ago, I was in
great distress, and he and Thornton had, God knows how! about two
thousand pounds between them; but I could not worm a stiver out of
Dawson--that gripe-all, Thornton, got it all from him."
"Two thousand pounds!" said I, in a calm voice, though my heart beat
violently; "that's a great sum for a poor fellow like Dawson. How long
ago is it since he had it?"
"About two or three months," answered Jonson.
"Pray, have you seen much of Dawson lately?" I asked.
"I have," replied Jonson.
"Indeed!" said I. "I thought you told me, just now, that you were
unacquainted with his residence?"
"So I am," replied Jonson, coldly, "it is not at his own house that I
ever see him."
I was silent, for I was now rapidly and minutely weighing the benefits
and disadvantages of trusting Jonson as he had desired me to do.
To reduce the question to the simplest form of logic, he had either the
power of assisting my investigation, or he had not: if not, neither could
he much impede it, and therefore, it mattered little whether he was in my
confidence or not; if he had the power, the doubt was, whether it would
be better for me to benefit by it openly, or by stratagem; that is--
whether it were wiser to state the whole case to him, or continue to gain
whatever I was able by dint of a blind examination. Now, the disadvantage
of candour was, that if it were his wish to screen Dawson and his friend,
he would be prepared to do so, and even to put them on their guard
against my suspicions; but the indifference he had testified with regard
to Dawson seemed to render this probability very small. The benefits of
candour were more prominent: Job would then be fully aware that his own
safety was not at stake; and should I make it more his interest to serve
the innocent than the guilty, I should have the entire advantage, not
only of any actual information he might possess, but of his skill and
shrewdness in providing additional proof, or at least suggesting
advantageous hints. Moreover, in spite of my vanity and opinion of my own
penetration, I could not but confess, that it was unlikely that my cross-
examination should be very successful with so old and experienced a
sinner as Mr. Jonson. "Set a thief to catch a thief," is among the wisest
of wise sayings, and accordingly I resolved in favour of a disclosure.
Drawing my chair close to Jonson's, fixing my eye upon his countenance,
and throwing into my own the most open, yet earnest expression I could
summon, I briefly proceeded to sketch Glanville's situation (only
concealing his name), and Thornton's charges. I mentioned my own
suspicions of the accuser, and my desire of discovering Dawson, whom
Thornton appeared to me artfully to secrete. Lastly, I concluded, with a
solemn promise, that if my listener could, by any zeal, exertion,
knowledge, or contrivance of his own, procure the detection of the men,
whom I was convinced were the murderers, a pension of three hundred
pounds a-year should be immediately settled upon him.
During my communication, the patient Job sat mute and still, fixing his
eyes on the ground, and only betraying, by an occasional elevation of the
brows, that he took the slightest interest in the tale: when, however, I
touched upon the peroration, which so tenderly concluded with the mention
of three hundred pounds a-year, a visible change came over the
countenance of Mr. Jonson. He rubbed his hands with an air of great
content, and one sudden smile broke over his features, and almost buried
his eyes amid the intricate host of wrinkles it called forth: the smile
vanished as rapidly as it came, and Mr. Job turned round to me with a
solemn and sedate aspect.
"Well, your honour," said he, "I'm glad you've told me all; we must see
what can be done. As for Thornton, I'm afraid we shan't make much out of
him, for he's an old offender, whose conscience is as hard as a brick-
bat; but, of Dawson, I hope better things. However, you must let me go
now, for this is a matter that requires a vast deal of private
consideration. I shall call upon you tomorrow, Sir, before ten o'clock,
since you say matters are so pressing; and, I trust, you will then see
that you have no reason to repent of the confidence you have placed in a
man of honour."
So saying, Mr. Job Jonson emptied the remainder of the bottle into his
tumbler, held it up to the light with the gusto of a connoisseur, and
concluded his potations with a hearty smack of the lips, followed by a
long sigh.
"Ah, your honour!" said he, "good wine is a marvellous whetter of the
intellect; but your true philosopher is always moderate: for my part, I
never exceed my two bottles."
And with these words, this true philosopher took his departure.
No sooner was I freed from his presence, than my thoughts flew to Ellen:
I had neither been able to call nor write the whole of the day; and I was
painfully fearful, lest my precautions with Sir Reginald's valet had been
frustrated, and the alarm of his imprisonment reached her and Lady
Glanville. Harassed by this fear, I disregarded the lateness of the hour,
and immediately repaired to Berkeley-square.
Lady and Miss Glanville were alone and at dinner: the servant spoke with
his usual unconcern--"They are quite well?" said I, relieved, but still
anxious: and the servant replying in the affirmative, I again returned
home, and wrote a long, and, I hope, consoling letter to Sir Reginald.
