David Liss - A Spectacle Of Corruption

“You must be careful of this sort of thing,” he told me. “You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, not as being a man of strength. It is a fine way to be recognized.”

“It was no frivolous whim,” I assured him. “I could hardly stand by and let this ruffian grab Miss Dogmill’s bubbies with impunity.”

Elias gave a bored half shrug. “As to that, I cannot say. You know her bubbies better than I. Nevertheless, you ought to be more careful.”

“I wonder, if Dogmill had learned of this, whether he would be more happy that his sister had been saved or angered that I was the one to save her. He is very protective of her, you know.” I then repeated the tale that Miss Dogmill had told to me: that of her brother attacking the tradesman who had “abducted” her.

“What a marvelous tale,” he said. “And very instructive too, I think. I might use a dramatic version of it in my History of Alexander Claren. Perhaps I could have a rogue who merely pretends to have abducted a girl- with her consent, of course- in order to make her father-”

“Elias.” I interrupted his reverie. “Are you suggesting that I abduct Miss Dogmill and wait for her brother to come smashing through my walls like a baited bull?”

“Oh, no. Nothing of the sort. I want to use it. If word of your doing such a thing were to get around, the passage in my narrative would seem derivative. And right now, I think it quite the best idea I’ve had. No, you’ll have to come up with your own story, I think.”

“It was my own story,” I said.

“Then you’ll just have to come up with a story I haven’t stolen from you.”

I then brought him up-to-date with all that had happened in those very eventful days.

“I know that Titus Miller,” he said. “He is a dealer in bills. He has bought up one or two of mine in the past, and he is merciless- merciless, I say- in hounding his debtors. I heard once that he pushed his way into a bagnio where a shopkeeper was enjoying an assignation with a pretty little chestnut-haired harlot, and he refused to leave until this fellow had paid what he owed. I suspect that Melbury might have some rather painful encumbrances if Miller is troubling him.”

“Well, as you say, a Parliamentary race is a costly business.”

“These would be older debts. No one would trouble him for expenses of the race during the race. But I was made to understand that his wife, if you will excuse me for mentioning her, came with a handsome fortune.”

“Mrs. Melbury was surely clever enough to settle her property separately at their marriage. Perhaps Melbury is ashamed to speak to her of these debts. I have seen him at play, and these may be debts of honor, which he fears to mention to his wife. But Melbury’s encumbrances are the least of my worries. I should rather hear what you have to say of this Jacobite business.”

“Well, it’s the very thing, isn’t it? If you can demonstrate that there is a highly placed Jacobite among the Whigs, you will have exactly what you need. You need only wait to see how the election ends. The Tories will do anything to keep the information quiet, for they will look like traitors. You know how excitable the public is; they’ll blame the Tories for what the Jacobites have done. And the Whigs will do anything to keep the information quiet, for they will look like rubes. All you need do is identify the man, and you will be well on your way to freedom.”

“All I need do is identify him? I imagine this man’s name is a closely guarded secret.”

“I imagine as much too, but if someone like Yate could uncover it, it will be a mere fribble for a man of your talents. By the way, have you heard the result of today’s polling?”

I told him that I had not.

“For Hertcomb, one hundred eighty-eight. For Melbury, one hundred ninety-seven. His lead increases each day.”

“That is bad news for Hertcomb.”

“I am afraid it is bad news for Melbury as well. Dennis Dogmill will not let go of Hertcomb’s seat easily.”

“Which means what?”

“Unless I miss my guess,” he said, as he took a bite of boiled turnip, “it means election violence. And a great deal of it.”

Elias’s pronouncement proved to be disturbingly prescient. The next day a group of four or five dozen men descended upon the hustings, declaring there could be no liberty without Hertcomb. Several of their number were posted just outside the polling booth, and when a man who had voted Tory emerged, the ruffians would taunt and jeer and even strike the fellow. Each man who stood up for Melbury merited an increasingly severe response, until anyone who dared cast his vote the wrong way was beaten mercilessly.

Melbury, along with every Tory of note in the city, cried out that the army must be called in to disband the rioters, but it was a sad truth that the mayor and the aldermen and a vast majority of the magistrates in the city made a habit of breaking bread with Dennis Dogmill and Albert Hertcomb, so they pronounced that a bit of election-season violence was inevitable and that it was better not to react too strongly lest the tempers of the troublemakers be even further inflamed.

I made a point of visiting the hustings myself that I might see to what extent this violence manifested itself. I saw it was cruel and certain, and that it surely cost Melbury his votes. That day ended with one hundred seventy votes for Mr. Hertcomb but only thirty-one for his opponent. Only a few such days of unrest could undo Melbury’s lead, and if Melbury did not win, my chances of clearing my name diminished to near nothing.

It was for that reason, and some others, that I observed something else with great interest. I saw that, unless my eyes deceived me, the men who rioted against Melbury were Greenbill Billy’s porters.

IDID NOT LIKE that my fate should be bound as closely as it was to a man like John Littleton, but I saw no way to avoid calling upon his services once more. I wrote him and asked that he meet me in a tavern on Broad Street in Wapping. I went undisguised, for Littleton knew nothing of my Matthew Evans persona and I thought it safer that way. He had thus far proved himself willing to aid me after his own fashion, but I could never know when I might have asked too much or provided too great a temptation.

As it happened, Littleton was eager to meet with me. The entry of his rivals into the political fray seemed to have utterly disordered him. His men knew not how to respond, but many believed that if Greenbill’s boys were rioting, surely there was profit to be had in riot and Littleton ought to be able to secure their share of the spoils.

“It’s all in chaos,” he said to me, swallowing down his beer as though he had been deprived of drink all day. There was a bruise on his face, just under his left ear, and I wondered if he had been brawling- with his men, perhaps?

“What do you know of it? What does it mean?”

“What does it mean?” he repeated. “What do you think it means? Dogmill’s got them paid off to riot against Melbury. What could be more plain?”

“But why would Greenbill accept Dogmill’s money for such a thing? Does he not wish to see Hertcomb out of office and Dogmill taken down a notch?”

“You’re thinking like a politician. That’s your problem. You ought to be thinking like a porter. They’ve been offered money, which is enough, but they’ve been offered money to make mischief, which is even more. As to matters of right and wrong, they hardly signify, but that’s all took care of just the same. Greenbill went out there and told his men that if Melbury gets elected it will ruin Dogmill, and if Dogmill is ruined, they can forget any work this spring. It’s as simple as that. They must wish well to their master, for the only thing worse than being under his boot is to have no master at all.”