"Indeed, Ramage," I said, "I think you are right. I will take a holiday for awhile."
"When the bankruptcy comes," he said, "there will be no more danger, because all the money would be divided among the creditors. Better to run away than to be ruined."
I promised to think of flight. Indeed, my mind was shaken. I was not afraid of open villainy, but of that which might be concealed and designed in secret. It would perhaps be best to go where the man could not find me.
So Ramage departed. When he saw me again, it was in a very different place.
The bell of Lambeth Church began to toll. It seemed to me like a funeral knell, though it was the bell for the afternoon service. The wind came up from the river chilled with the November air. My heart sank.
"My dear," said Alice, "let us go to Church. Oh! the mark of the Evil Spirit is stamped upon the unhappy man"s forehead. Let us pray not for ourselves, but for G.o.d"s mercy upon a wandering soul."
I followed her as she led the way, carrying the child. Alas! How long before I could sit with her again to hear the prayers of the church among G.o.dly folk!
CHAPTER VII
JENNY"S ADVICE
After this plain warning: after knowing the nature of the design against me: after the savage threats of the man Probus: I ought to have hesitated no longer: I should have taken Alice and the child to her brother Tom, and should then have retired somewhere until the inevitable bankruptcy relieved me from fear of conspiracy. Once before, I had suffered from delay: yet had I not learned the perils of procrastination. I had formed in my mind an idea that they would try in some way to fix upon me the crime of forgery, and I thought that this would take time: so that I was not hurried: I confess that I was disquieted: but I was not hurried.
On Monday morning I repaired to Soho Square and laid the whole business before Jenny.
"Will," she said, after hearing all and asking a few questions, "this seems a very serious affair. You have to deal with a man driven frantic by the loss of all his money: the money that he has spent his life in sc.r.a.ping together. He throws out hints about your possible death in the counting-house, and makes a bargain in case you die: he threatens you with some mysterious revenge."
"I believe he will trump up some charge of forgery."
"He is quite unscrupulous. Now, I will tell you something. The man Merridew"s perjury about your alleged debt put me on the scent. Probus works through Merridew. First of all Merridew owes him money--more than he can pay. This debt goes on rolling up. This puts Merridew in his power. What Probus orders Merridew must do."
"Is there always behind every villain a greater villain?"
"I suppose so. The greater the rogue the safer he is. Merridew goes to the shopkeepers and offers to return them stolen goods--at a price. It is one of his ways of making money. Then he finds out their necessities.
Most shopkeepers are always in want of money. Then Merridew takes them to Probus who lends them money. Oh! at first there was never such a kind friend--on the easiest terms: they can pay when they please: then they want a little more: and so they go on. When their debt has risen to half the value of their stock, Probus wants to be paid. Then he sells them up. The father of the family becomes bankrupt and goes into a prison for the rest of his days: what becomes of the children I know not--no one knows. I dare say some of them go to St. Giles"s."
This is what Jenny told me. I know not if it is true, but I think it must be.
"Well, you see, that Probus pulls the strings and sets Merridew"s arms and legs at work, and Merridew has all the rogues under his thumb. Now you understand why the position is serious."
She considered for a few minutes. "Will," she said, "for sure they will talk it over at the Black Jack. When anything is arranged it is generally done in the kitchen and in the morning." She looked at the clock. "It is now nearly one. If I were to go round!" She considered again. "Doll will be there. They may be there too. But this time they must not recognise me. Wait a bit, Will."
She left me and presently came back dressed, not as an Orange Girl, but as a common person, such as one may see anywhere in St. Giles"s. She had on a linsey woolsey frock: a dirty white ap.r.o.n all in holes: a kerchief round her neck: another over her head tied under her chin: a straw hat also tied under her chin: and woollen mittens on her hands. One cheek was smudged as by a coal, and her left eye was blackened: no one would have recognised her. On her arm she carried a basket carefully covered up.
"Now," she said, "I"m a woman with a basket full of stolen goods for Mother Wilmot."
I let her out by the garden-door which opened on to Hog"s Lane.
Presently she returned: from what she told me, this was what pa.s.sed.
She found her mother nodding over knitting, and her sister Doll busy with the slate. The kitchen was well-nigh empty because most of the frequenters were abroad picking up their living. Like the sparrows they pick it up as they can from pockets and doorways and from shop bulks.
"Doll," she whispered. "Pretend not to know me. Turn over the things in the basket."
"What is it, Jenny?"
She looked round the room. There were only two or three sitting by the fire. "No one who knows me," she said. "Tell me, Doll. Has Mr. Merridew been here--and when?"
"Why, he"s only just gone. Him and the Bishop--and the Captain--and another one--a gentleman he looked like. All in black."
"All in black? Was he tall and thin and stooping? So?"
"Yes. They"ve been talking over it all the morning."
"What is it, Doll? You"ve got ears like gimlets. I sometimes think it must be pleasant to be able to hear so much that goes on."
"I can hear a thing if I like. The Bishop don"t like it, Jenny." She dropped her voice. "It"s business for getting a man out of the way.
They"ll have to give evidence at the Old Bailey, and he"s afraid."
"How is the man to be put out of the way?"
"I don"t know. There"s money on it. But they"re afraid."
"Why are they afraid?"
"Because they"re going to make a man swing. If he doesn"t swing, they will."
"I suppose it"s an innocent man, Doll."
"How should I know? It isn"t one of themselves. If the case breaks down they"ll have to swing. Mr. Merridew promised them so much, for I heard him. He means it, too--and they know it. I heard him. "If you do break down," he says, "after all, you will be no worse off than you are at present. For your time"s up and you know it, both of you. So, if you break down, you will be arrested for conspiracy and detained on my information on a capital charge." After which--he made so----" with her finger on her neck.
"Well, what did they say, Doll?"
"The Bishop said it would be easier and quicker to knock him on the head at once. Mr. Merridew wouldn"t hear of it. He said if they obeyed him they should have two years" more rope. If not, they knew what to expect.
So they went away with him, looking mighty uneasy."
"When is it to be, Doll?"
"Lord, sister, you are mighty curious. "Tis no affair of yours. Best know nothing, I say. Only a body must hear things. And it makes the time pa.s.s knowing what to expect."
"Can you find out when it is to be?"
"If I learn, I will tell you. It"s all settled, I know that. We shall have the pair of them giving evidence in the Old Bailey." Doll laughed at the thought. "All St. Giles"s will go to the Court to hear--all them that dare."
"So they went away with Mr. Merridew," Jenny repeated, thoughtfully.
"Yes, after a mug of purl, but the Bishop went away shaking. Not on account of the crime, I suppose, but with the thought of being cross-examined in the Old Bailey, and the terror that he might be recognised. But the only London Prison that knew him was the King"s Bench."