CHAPTER VI.In which Ned Hayward plays the part of Thief-taker.
Of all the turnings and windings in this crooked life, one of the mostdisagreeable is turning back; and yet it is one we are all doomed tofrom childhood to old age. We are turned back with the smaller and thegreater lessons of life, and have alas, but too often, in ourobstinacy or our stupidity to learn them over and over again. I withthe rest of my herd must also turn back from time to time; but on thepresent occasion it shall not be long, as I am not in a sportive moodthis morning, and could find no pleasure in playing a trout or asalmon, and should be disgusted at the very sight of a cat with amouse.
We have seen our good friend, Ned Hayward, lay his hand stoutly on thecollar of a gentleman who had been taking some unwarrantable libertieswith the finny fair ones of the stream; but the question is, howhappened Ned Hayward to be there at that particular hour of themorning? Was he so exceedingly matutinal in his habits as to beusually up, dressed, and out and walking by a piece of water at aperiod of the day when most things except birds, fish, and poachersare in their beds? Had he been roused at that hour by heartach, orheadach, or any other ache? Was he gouty and could not sleep--in love,and not inclined to sleep? No, reader, no. He was an early man in hishabits it is true, for he was in high health and spirits, and with abusy and active mind which looked upon slumber as time thrown away;but then though he rose early he was always careful as to his dress.He had a stiff beard which required a good deal of shaving, his hairtook him a long time, for he liked it to be exceedingly clean andglossy. Smooth he could not make it, for that the curls prevented,curls being obstinate things and resolved to have their own way. Thuswith one thing or another, sometimes reading scraps of a book that layupon his dressing-table, sometimes looking out of window, and thinkingmore poetically than he had any notion of, sometimes cleaning histeeth till they looked as white and as straight as the keys of a newpianoforte, sometimes playing a tune with his fingers on the top ofthe table, and musing philosophically the while, it was generally atleast one hour and a half from the time he arose before he issuedforth into the world.
This was not always the case indeed, for on May mornings, when thetrout rise, in August, if he were near the moors, on the first ofSeptember, wherever he might be, for he was never at that season inLondon, he usually abridged his toilet, and might be seen in the greenfields, duly equipped for the sport of the season, very shortly afterdaybreak.
On the present occasion, and the morning of which I have just spoken,there cannot be the slightest doubt that he would have laid in bedsomewhat longer than usual, for he had had a long ride the day before,some excitement, a good supper, and had sat up late; but there was onelittle circumstance which roused him and sent him forth. At about aquarter before five he heard his door open, and a noise made amongstthe boots and shoes. He was in that sleepy state in which the eventsof even five or six hours before are vague and indefinite, ifrecollected at all, and although he had some confused notion of havingordered himself to be called early, yet he knew not the why or thewherefore, and internally concluded that it was one of the servants ofthe inn come to take his clothes away for the purpose of brushingthem; he thought, as that was a process with which he had nothing todo, he might as well turn on his other side and sleep it out. Still,however, there was a noise in the room, which in the end disturbedhim, and he gave over all the boots, physical or metaphysical, to thedevil. Then raising himself upon his elbow, he looked about, and bythe dim light which was streaming through the dimity curtains--for thewindow was unfurnished with shutters--he saw a figure somewhat likethat of a large goose wandering about amidst the fragments of hisapparel.
"What in the mischiefs name are you about?" asked Ned Hayward,impatiently. "Can't you take the things and get along?"
"It's me, Sir," said the low, sweet-toned voice of the humpbackedpot-boy, who had not a perfect certainty in his own mind that neuterverbs are followed by a nominative case, "you were wishing to knowlast night about--"
"Ah, hang it, so I was," exclaimed Ned Hayward, "but I had forgottenall about it--well, my man, what can you tell me about this fellow,this Wolf? Where does he live, how can one get at him? None of thepeople here will own they know any thing about him, but I believe theyare lying, and I am very sure of it. The name's a remarkable one, andnot to be mistaken."
"Ay, Sir," answered the pot-boy, "they knew well enough whom you want,though you did not mention the name they chose to know him by. If youhad asked for Ste Gimlet, they'd have been obliged to answer, for theycan't deny having heard of him. Wolf's a cant name, you see, which hegot on account of his walking about so much at night, as they saywolves do, though I never saw one."
"Well, where is he to be found?" asked Ned Hayward, in his usual rapidmanner, and he then added, to smooth down all difficulties, "I don'twant to do the man any harm if I can help it, for I have a notion,somehow, that he is but a tool in the business; and therefore,although I could doubtless with the information you have given me ofhis real name, find him out, and deal with him as I think fit, yet Iwould rather have his address privately, that I may go and talk to himalone."
"Ah, Sir, he may be a tool," answered the pot-boy, "but he's anawkward tool to work with; and I should think you had better have twoor three stout hands with you."
"Well, I will think of that, my man," answered the young gentleman;"but at all events I should like to know where to find him."
"That's not quite so easy, Sir," replied the hunchback, "for hewanders about a good deal, but he has got a place where he says helives on Yaldon Moor, behind the park, and that he's there some timein every day is certain. I should think the morning as good a time asany, and you may catch him on the look-out if you go round by the backof the park, and then up the river by the old mill. There's an overgoa little higher up, and I shouldn't wonder if he were dabbling aboutin the water; for it isn't the time for partridges or hares, and hemust be doing something."
"But what sort of place has he on the moor?" asked Ned Hayward,beginning to get more and more interested in the pursuit of hisinquiries; "how can I find it, my man?"
"It's not easy," answered his companion, "for it's built down in thepit. However, when you have crossed by the overgo, you will find alittle path just before you, and if you go along that straight,without either turning to the right or the left, it will lead youright up to the moor. Then I'm sure I don't know how to direct you,for the roads go turning about in all manner of ways."
"Is it east, west, north, or south?" asked Captain Hayward,impatiently.
"Why east," answered the boy; "and I dare say if you go soon you willfind the sun just peeping out over the moor in that direction. It's apretty sight, and I've looked at it often to see the sunshine comestreaming through the morning mist, and making all the green thingsthat grow about there look like gold and purple, and very often, too,I've seen the blue smoke coming up out of the pit from Ste'scottage-chimney, Perhaps it may be so when you go, and then you'lleasily find it."
"And whose park is it you speak of, boy?" said Ned Hayward. "There maybe half-a-dozen about here."
"Why, Sir John Slingsby's," answered the boy, "that's the only one wecall the park about here."
"Oh, then, I know it," rejoined the gentleman, stretching out his handat the same time, and taking his purse from a chair that stood by hisbedside; "there's a crown for you; and now carry off the boots andclothes, and get them brushed as fast as possible."
The boy did as he was told, took the crown with many thanks, gatheredtogether the various articles of apparel which lay scattered about,and retired from the room. Ned Hayward, however, without waiting forhis return, jumped out of bed, drew forth from one of his portmanteausanother complete suit of clothes, plunged his head, hands, and neck incold water, and then mentally saying, "I will shave when I come back,"he dressed himself in haste, and looked out for a moment into theyard, to see whether many of the members of the household were astir.There was a man at the very further end of the yard cleaning a hors
e,and just under the window, the little deformed pot-boy, whistling aplaintive air with the most exquisite taste, while he was brushing acoat and waistcoat. The finest and most beautiful player on theflageolet, never equalled the tones that were issuing from his littlepale lips, and Ned Hayward could not refrain from pausing a moment tolisten, but then putting on his hat, he hurried down stairs, andbeckoned the boy towards him.
"Do not say that I am out, my man, unless any questions are asked," hesaid; "and when you have brushed the clothes, put them on a chair atthe door."
The boy nodded significantly, and our friend, Ned Hayward, took hisway out of the town in the direction that the boy had indicated. Ofall the various bumps in the human head, the bump of locality is theforemost. This book the reader is well aware is merely a phrenologicalessay in a new form. So the bump of locality is the most capricious,whimsical, irrational, unaccountable, perverse, and unmanageable ofall bumps. To some men it affords a faculty of finding their way abouthouses--I wish to Heaven it did so with me, for I am always gettinginto wrong rooms and places where I have no business--others itenables to go through all sorts of tortuous paths and ways almost byintuition; with others it is strong regarding government offices, andthe places connected therewith; but in Ned Hayward it was powerful inthe country, and it would have been a very vigorous _ignis fatuus_indeed that would lead him astray either on horseback or on foot.Three words of direction generally sufficed if they were clear, and hewas as sure of his journey as if he knew every step of the way. Theremight be a little calculation in the thing--a sort of latentargumentation--for no one knew better that if a place lay due north,the best way to arrive at it was not to go due south, or was moreclearly aware that in ordinary circumstances, the way into the valleywas not to climb the hill; but Ned Hayward was rarely disposed toanalyse any process in his own mind. He had always hated dissectedpuzzles even in his boyhood; and as his mind was a very good mind, hegenerally let it take its own way, without troubling it withquestions. Thus he walked straight on out of the little town along thebank of the river, and finding himself interrupted, after about threemiles, by the park-wall, he took a path through the fields to theleft, then struck back again to the right, and soon after had aglimpse of the river again above its passage through Sir JohnSlingsby's park.
All this time Ned Hayward's mind was not unoccupied. He saw everything that was passing about him, and meditated upon it withoutknowing that he was meditating. The sky was still quite gray when heset out, but presently the morning began to hang out her banners ofpurple and gold to welcome the monarch of day, and Ned Hayward said tohimself, "How wonderfully beautiful all this is, and what a fineordination is it that every change in nature should produce somevariety of beauty." Then he remarked upon the trees, and the birds,and the meadows, and the reflections of the sky in a clear, smoothpart of the river, and with somewhat of a painter's mind, perceivedthe beautiful harmony that is produced by the effect that one colourhas upon another by its side. And then he passed a little villagechurch, with the steeple shrouded in ivy, and it filled his mind fullof quiet and peaceful images, and simple rural life (with a moral toit all), and his thoughts ran on to a thousand scenes of honesthappiness, till he had the game at skittles and the maypole on thegreen up before him as plain as if it were all real; and the ivy andtwo old yews carried him away to early times when that ancient churchwas new. Heaven knows how far his fancy went galloping!--through thewhole history of England at least. But all these reveries went out ofhis head almost as soon as the objects that excited them, and then, ashe went through some neat hedgerows and pleasant corn-fields, whichpromised well in their green freshness for an abundant harvest, hebegan to think of partridges and an occasional pheasant lying under aholly-bush, and pointing dogs and tumbling birds, a full game-bag, anda capital dinner, with a drowsy evening afterwards. Good Heaven! whata thing it is to be young, and in high health, and in high spirits;how easy the load of life sits upon one; how insignificant are itscares to its enjoyments; every moment has its flitting dream; everyhour its becoming enjoyment, if we choose to seek it; every flower, beit bitter or be it sweet, be it inodorous or be it perfumed, has itsnectarial fall of honeyed drops, ripe for the lip that will vouchsafeto press it. But years, years, they bring on the autumn of the heart,when the bright and blooming petals have passed away, when the dreamshave vanished with the light slumbers of early years, and every thingis in the seed for generations to come; we feel ourselves the husks ofthe earth, and find that it is time to fall away, and give place tothe bloom and blossom of another epoch.
Our friend, however, if not in the budding time of life, had nothingof the sere and yellow leaf about him; he was one of those men who wascalculated to carry on the day-dream of boyhood, even beyond itslegitimate limit; nothing fretted him, nothing wore him, few thingsgrieved him. It required the diamond point to make a deep impression,and though he reflected the lights that fell upon him from otherobjects, it was but the more powerful rays that penetrated into thedepth, and that not very frequently. Thus on he went upon his way, andwhat he had got to after partridges and field-swamps, and matters ofsuch kind, Heaven only knows. He might be up in the moon for aught Ican tell, or in the Indies, or riding astride upon a comet, or in anyother position the least likely for a man to place himself in, exceptwhen aided by the wings of imagination; and yet, strange to say, NedHayward had not the slightest idea that he had any imagination at all.He believed himself to be the most simple jog-trot, matter-of-factcreature in all the world; but to return, he was indulging in allsorts of fantasies, just when a little path between two high hedgesopened out upon a narrow meadow, by the side of the river at a spotjust opposite the old mill, and not more than forty or fifty yardsdistant from the door thereof. He saw the old mill and the stream, butsaw nothing else upon my word, and thinking to himself,
"What a picturesque ruin that is, it looks like some feudal castlebuilt beside the water, parting two hostile barons' domains. What thedeuce can it have been?"
Doubt with him always led to examination, so without more ado, hecrossed over the open space with his usual quick step, entered themill, looked about him, satisfied himself in a minute as to what hadbeen its destination, and then gazed out of the windows, first up thestream, and next down. Up the stream he saw some swallows skimmingover the water, the first that summer had brought to our shores; and,moreover, a sedate heron, with its blue back appearing over somereeds, one leg in the water, and one raised to its breast. When helooked down, however, he perceived the gentleman I have described,dropping some pellets into the water, and he thought "That's a curiousoperation, what can he be about?"
The next minute, however, the legitimate wooer of the fishes turnedhis face partly towards the mill, and Ned Hayward murmured, "Ah ha,Master Wolf, _alias_ Ste Gimlet, I have you now, I think." And issuingforth, he dogged him down the bank as I have before described, till atlength, choosing his moment dexterously, he grasped him by the collar,in such a manner, that if he had had the strength of Hercules, hewould have found it a more difficult matter to escape, than to killforty Hydras, or clean fifty Augean stables.
"Hocussing the fish!" said the prisoner, in answer to one of CaptainHayward's first intimations of what he thought of his proceedings. "Idon't know what you mean by hocussing the fish--I've got a few dead'uns out of the river, that's all; and no great harm, I should think,just to make a fry."
"Ay, my good friend," replied Ned Hayward, "dead enough, I dare saythey were when you got them; but I'm afraid we must have a coroner'sinquest upon them, and I do not think the verdict will be 'Founddrowned.' What I mean, my man, is that you have poisoned them--acunning trick, but one that I know as well as your name or my own."
"And what the devil is your name?" asked the captive, trying to twisthimself round, so as at least to get a blow or a kick at his captor.
"Be quiet--be quiet!" answered Ned Hayward, half strangling him in hiscollar. "My name is my own property, and I certainly will not give itto you; but your own you shall
have, if you like. You are called SteGimlet or I am mistaken, but better known at night by the name ofWolf."
The man muttered an angry curse, and Ned Hayward continued,
"You see I know all about you; and, to tell you the truth, I waslooking for you."
"Ah, so he's had some 'un down from London," said Wolf, entirelymistaking the nature of Captain Hayward's rank and avocation. "Well,so help me--, if I ever did this on his ground, afore, Sir."
"Well, Master Gimlet," answered Ned Hayward, perfectly understandingwhat was passing in the man's mind, and willing to encourage themistake, "I have been asked down certainly, and I suppose I must takeyou before Sir John Slingsby at once--unless, indeed, you like to makethe matter up one way or another."
"I haven't got a single crown in the world," answered the poacher; "ifyou know all, you'd know that I am poor enough."
"Ay, but there are more ways than one of making matters up," rejoinedNed Hayward, in a menacing tone. "You know a little bit of businessyou were about last night."
The man's face turned as white as a sheet, and his limbs trembled asif he had been in the cold fit of an ague. All his strength was gonein a moment, and he was as powerless as a baby.
"Why," faltered he at length, "you could not be sent for that affair,for there's not been time."
"No, certainly," replied the young gentleman; "but having been askeddown here on other matters, I have just taken that up, and may gothrough with it or not, just as it suits me. Now you see, Ste," hecontinued, endeavouring to assume, as well as he could, somewhat ofthe Bow-street officer tone, and doing so quite sufficiently to effecthis object with a country delinquent, "a nod you know is quite as goodas a wink to a blind horse."
"Ay, ay, I understand, Sir," answered Mr. Gimlet.
"Well then," continued Ned Hayward, "I understand, too; and beingquite sure that you are not what we call the principal in thisbusiness, but only an accessory, I am willing to give you a chance."
"Thank'ee, Sir," replied Wolf, in a meditative tone, but he said nomore; and his captor, who wished him to speak voluntarily, wassomewhat disappointed.
"You are mighty dull, Master Wolf," said Ned Hayward, "and therefore Imust ask you just as plain a question as the judge does when he hasgot the black cap in his hand ready to put on. Have you any thing tosay why I should not take you at once before Sir John Slingsby?"
"Why, what the devil should I say?" rejoined the man, impatiently. "Ifyou know me, I dare say you know the others, and if you're so cunning,you must guess very well that it was not the money that we were after;so that it can't be no felony after all."
"If it is not a felony, it is not worth my while to meddle with,"answered Ned Hayward, "but there may be different opinions upon thatsubject; and if you like to tell me all about it, I shall be able tojudge. I guessed it was not for money; but there is many a thing asbad as that. I don't ask you to speak, but you may if you like. If youdon't, come along."
"Well, I'll speak all I know," answered Wolf, "that's to say, ifyou'll just let me get breath, for, hang me, if your grip does nothalf strangle me. I'll not mention names though, for I won't peach;but just to show you that there was nothing so very wrong, I'll tellyou what it was all about--that's to say, if you'll let me off aboutthese devils of fish."
"Agreed as to the fish," replied Ned Hayward, "if you tell the truth.I don't want to throttle you either, my good friend; but mark me well,if I let go my hold, and you attempt to bolt, I will knock you down,and have you before a magistrate in five minutes. Sit down there onthe bank then." And without loosening his grasp, he forced hisprisoner to bend his knees and take up a position before him, fromwhich it would not have been possible to rise without encountering ablow from a very powerful fist. When this was accomplished, he let theman's collar go, and standing directly opposite, bade him proceed.
This seemed not so easy a task as might have been imagined, at leastto our friend Mr. Gimlet, who, not being a practised orator, wantedthe art of saying as much as possible upon every thing unimportant,and as little as possible upon every thing important. He scratched hishead heartily, however, and that stimulus at length enabled him toproduce the following sentence.
"Well, you see, Sir, it was nothing at all but a bit of lovemaking."
"It did not look like it," answered Ned Hayward.
"Well, it was though," said Mr. Gimlet, in a decided tone. "The younggentleman, whom I'm talking of, wanted to get the young lady away; foryou see her mother looks very sharp after her, and so he had a chaiseready, and me and another to help him, and if those two fellows hadnot come up just as we were about it, he'd have had her half way toScotland by this time."
"And where is the young gentleman, as you call him, now?" asked NedHayward, in that sort of quiet, easy tone, in which people sometimesput questions, which, if considered seriously, would be the leastlikely to receive an answer, just as if a straightforward reply were amatter of course.
But his companion was upon his guard. "That's neither here nor there,"he replied.
"It is I can assure you, my good friend Wolf," said the younggentleman; "for whatever you may think, this was just as much a felonyas if you had taken a purse or cut a throat. Two pistols were fired, Ithink--the young lady is an heiress; and forcibly carrying away anheiress, is as bad as a robbery; it is a sort of picking her pocket ofherself. So, if you have a mind to escape a noose, you'll instantlytell me where he is."
The man thrust his hands into his pockets, and gazed at hisinterrogator with a sullen face, in which fear might be seenstruggling with dogged resolution; but Ned Hayward the moment after,added as a sort of rider to his bill,
"I dare say he is some low fellow who did it for her money."
"No, that he's not, by--!" cried the other. "He's a gentleman's son,and a devilish rich un's too."
"Ah ha! Mr. Wittingham's!" cried Ned Hayward, "now I understand you,"and he laughed with his peculiar clear, merry laugh, which made Mr.Gimlet, at first angry, and then inclined to join him. "And now, mygood friend," continued Ned Hayward, laying his hand upon hiscompanion's shoulder, "you may get up and be off. You've made a greatblunder, and mistaken me for a very respectable sort of functionary,upon whose peculiar province I have no inclination to trespass anyfurther--I mean a thief-taker. If you will take my advice, however,neither you nor Mr. Wittingham will play such tricks again, for if youdo you may fare worse; and you may as well leave off hocussing trout,snaring pheasants and hares, and shooting partridges on the sly, andtake to some more legitimate occupation. You would make a very goodgamekeeper, I dare say, upon the principle of setting a thief to catcha thief, and some of these days I will come up to your place upon themoor, and have a chat with you about it; I doubt not you could show mesome sport with otters, or badgers, or things of that kind."
"Upon my soul and body you're a cool hand," cried Ste Gimlet, risingand looking at Captain Hayward, as if he did not well know whether toknock him down or not.
"I am," answered our friend Ned, with a calm smile, "quite cool, andalways cool, as you'll find when you know me better. As to what haspassed to-day I shall take no notice of this fish affair, and inregard to Mr. Wittingham's proceedings last night, I shall deliberatea little before I act. You'd better tell him so when you next see him,just to keep him on his good behaviour, and so good morning to you, myfriend."
Thus saying, Ned Hayward turned away, and walked towards the town,without once looking back to see whether his late prisoner was or wasnot about to hit him a blow on the head. Perhaps had he known what waspassing in worthy Mr. Gimlet's mind, he might have taken someprecaution; for certainly that gentleman was considerably moved; butif the good and the bad spirit had a struggle together in his breast,the good got the better at length, and he exclaimed, "No, hang it, Iwon't," and with a slow and thoughtful step he walked up the streamagain, towards the path which led to the moor.
Upon that path I shall leave him, and begging the reader to getupon any favourite horse he may have in the stable--hobby or no
thobby--canter gaily back again to take up some friends that we haveleft far behind.