David Liss - A Spectacle Of Corruption

“I must say, Mr. Dogmill,” he answered, “I was only thinking that Mr. Wild will be most delighted with this turn of events. You and he have long been enemies, but now you will be friends, and he will relish having so amiable a friend as Mr. Hertcomb in the House.”

“What?” I shouted. “Mendes, I did not call upon your aid so you could deliver Wild a Parliamentarian to order about as he pleases.”

“It may not be why you done it, but you done it all the same. We now know something about Mr. Dogmill that is very damning, and Hertcomb is Mr. Dogmill’s man. That makes Mr. Hertcomb Wild’s man now as well.” He turned to me. “And don’t say nothing about it. I’ve pulled your neck from the noose, Weaver. You’ll not gripe about my taking a thing or two for my troubles.”

None of us said a word. I had grown so used to calling upon Mendes for his aid that I confess I had forgot who and what he was. In that instant I almost wished I had remained forever in exile rather than put into Mr. Wild’s hands the member for Westminster. I had allowed the most dangerous man in London to become even more dangerous.

Mendes, sensing the horror of the room, glowed like a maiden in love. “There is one more thing,” he said to Dogmill. “Some years ago I had a dog by the name of Blackie.” And with that, he removed his pistol and struck Dogmill in the head.

The tobacco man collapsed in an instant. Mendes turned to Hertcomb.

“This filthy cunny crossed me. Three years ago it was, but I ain’t forgot it. You see him there, lying on the floor, blood coming out of his head? You see it, all right. Don’t you forget, Mr. Hertcomb. Don’t you forget what happens to someone who crosses me.”

We awaited the arrival of the constables in silence.

ITOOK THE mail coach to Oxfordshire- a journey of some length under the best of circumstances, and fortune was not to provide me with the best of circumstances. It rained hard nearly all the way, and the roads were in horrific shape. I remained in disguise as Matthew Evans, for I could not depend that news of my innocence would reach the provinces as quickly as I could, and I did not care to find myself arrested. However, I faced other trials of a nonjudicial sort. Only halfway to my destination, the coach became caught in the mud and turned over. No one was hurt, but we were forced to make our way on foot to the nearest inn and make new arrangements for ourselves.

A trip that ought to have taken less than a day took me nearly three, but at last I arrived at the estate of Judge Piers Rowley and knocked upon the heavy doors of his house. I presented my card- that is to say, Benjamin Weaver’s card- to the footman, for I would have no pretense with this man of the law. I hardly need tell my reader that I was invited inside at once.

I waited no more than five minutes before Mr. Rowley joined me. He wore a large flowing wig that effectively covered his ears, so I could not see the damage I had done him. I did perceive that he appeared tired, however, and much older than when I had last set my eyes on him. Though a heavy man, his cheeks looked sunken.

To my surprise he offered me a bow and invited me to sit.

I was not comfortable, and remained standing longer than suits a gentleman asked to be at his leisure.

“I see,” said the judge, “either that you are here to kill me out of revenge or that you have discovered something.”

“I have discovered something.”

He laughed softly. “I hardly know if that is the answer I most wished for.”

“I do not believe my arrival here is good news for you,” I said at last.

“It could not have been, but I knew it would come. I knew no good would come from prosecuting you, and no good would come of your escape. But a man’s choices are not always his own, and even when they are, they must often be painful.”

“You sent the woman with the lockpick,” I said.

He nodded. “She is my sister’s serving woman. A pleasant sort of girl. I can arrange for you to meet her, if you like, but I think you will find her much less devoted to you than she once pretended.”

“No doubt. Why did you do it? You both ordered me destroyed and set me at my liberty. Why?”

“Because I could not bear that you should be hanged for a crime you did not commit, and I had no choice but to see you convicted and to sentence you to death. I was made to do it, and I would have been ruined if I had not. You must understand that I was ready to face that ruin rather than commit murder, for I perceived what I had been asked to do as murder. But then I alighted upon this idea. If you could break free of prison, I thought, you would flee, and I would have done my part safely. I could hardly have imagined that you would be so determined to vindicate yourself.”

“Knowing what I now know, I am sorry I was so hard with you.”

He put a hand to the side of his head. “It is no less than I deserve.”

“I cannot say what you deserve, but I think you deserved less, for you did try to tell me the truth. You were ordered to see me hanged by Griffin Melbury. You told me the truth that night. I accepted it as a matter of faith that you had lied. I presumed you were attempting to prey upon my ignorance and set me at your enemy, for you are a Whig and he is a Tory. But you told me the truth all along.”

He nodded.

“And he could so command you because he is a Jacobite, and so are you.”

He nodded again. “After your arrest, he convinced some high-ranking men in our circles that you were a danger to our cause. I cannot tell you their names, but I can only tell you they believed him, for Melbury is a convincing man. The order came to me, and I dared not disobey, so I tried to defy it as best I could.”

“Why did Melbury wish me hanged?” I asked.

He smiled. “Is it not obvious? Because he was jealous of you- and afraid of you too. He knew you had courted his wife, and he believed that you suspected him of acting against the Hanoverians. He thought you would, out of love for his wife, inquire into his doings, discover his political connections, and expose him. When Ufford hired you, Melbury was beside himself with anger and fear. He was certain that you would discover his link to the priest and then expose him before the world. But then you were arrested, and he could not resist the chance to remove you forever.”

“If the Jacobites wished me harm, why have I been spared and even held up as their darling?”

“After your trial, when the mob began to rally around your cause, and when Melbury could not show justification for his anger toward you, his wishes were disregarded. He longed to see you destroyed, but he had no support within the party. He was quite angry, you know. He was convinced you would do all you could to destroy him for his loyalties to the true king.”

“But that is madness. I would never have been aware of his true loyalties had he not pursued me.”

Rowley shrugged. “It is ironic, I suppose, but hardly madness. We all do what we must to protect ourselves.”

“As you did with Yate. I suppose now I understand how it was that he was not convicted when he sat before your court.”

“He knew my secret. I cannot say precisely through what channels, but sometimes we men of breeding are not nearly so cautious as we ought to be around those beneath us, and I fear there are those in our circle who are truly foolish. Some pair of loose lips has cost me dearly.”

“And they will soon cost Melbury,” I said.

“It will be hard to prove him one of the exiled king’s party. He has hidden his connections well.”

“That’s true enough. I’ve never heard that anyone truly suspects Melbury of supporting the old king.”