Complete works of a e w.., p.287
Complete Works of a E W Mason, page 287
CHAPTER XXIII
HOW THE MESSENGERS CAPTURED THE WRONG GENTLEMAN; AND OF WHAT LETTERS THE COLONEL BURNED.
FOR COLONEL MONTAGUE was taken in Mr. Kelly’s place, as you may see with your own eyes in his Grace of Dorset’s Report to the Lords’ Committees, where the informations of John Hutchins and Daniel Chandler, described as ‘two of his Majesty’s Messengers in Ordinary,’ are printed. These did not chance to be men of a very high degree of intelligence, as their own confessions bear testimony, in itself a fortunate circumstance.
Colonel Montague, when he parted from the Parson at the grove in St. James’s Park, walked into Pall Mall Street by the path at the corner of St. James’s House and up to St. James’s Street to the corner of Ryder Street, where he turned. Ryder Street, what with gentlemen walking home on the footpaths and chairs carried in the road, was a busy thoroughfare at this time of the night, and he remarked nothing extraordinary until he was close to his own doorstep. Then he distinguished, or rather seemed to distinguish — for in the doubtful light he could not be certain — at a little distance on the opposite side of the road a man in the blue and silver livery of Lady Oxford. The man was loitering at the edge of the path, taking a few steps now this way now that. He was tall, and not unlike Mr. Wogan in his girth. Now, Colonel Montague was aware that her ladyship possessed a lackey of just such a conspicuous figure.
‘For once in a while,’ he thought, ‘the news-sheet spoke truth to-night. It seems it was Lady Oxford that set the reverend non-juror, for here is her lackey to point him out to the Messengers.’
With this thought urging him to get his business done quickly, Montague walked up to his door and knocked. On the instant, three men ran across the road and collared him. The capture was observed by one or two gentlemen, who stopped, and immediately a small crowd began to gather about them.
Montague was prudent enough to waste no time in a useless struggle with the Messengers, and asked them quietly who they were and what they intended. At this moment the door was opened by Mrs. Kilburne’s maid, and the Messengers, lifting the Colonel up, carried him into the house. Hutchins, a short, stoutish fellow, who was the chief of the three men, told the Colonel who they were.
‘And we hold a warrant for your apprehension under Lord Townshend’s seal,’ he said, and showed his scutcheon and the warrant.
‘Not for my apprehension,’ replied Montague. ‘There is one without there who can speak for me.’ For the door was still open to the street, and amongst the people who thronged the entrance, he now saw very clearly the blue and silver livery of her ladyship. The lackey, however, pushed backwards out of range, and since those who were foremost of the crowd turned about to see who it was that Montague pointed to, Hutchins took the occasion to close the door in their faces.
‘You are George Kelly, alias James Johnson, alias Joseph Andrews,’ said he, turning again to Colonel Montague, and reading out from the warrant a number of names by which the Parson was known to the honest party.
‘It is the first I have heard of it,’ replied Montague, and he invited the Messengers up to his rooms on the first floor, where he would be happy to satisfy them of their mistake. Mrs. Kilburne had now joined her maid in the passage, and she followed the Messengers up the stairs, wringing her hands over the disgrace which, through no fault of hers, had fallen upon her house. When they were come within the room, Montague threw open his cloak, which he wore wrapped about his shoulders, and discovered his scarlet coat beneath it.
‘I am Colonel Montague,’ he said, ‘and an officer under the King as well as you. If there is work to be done for the King, I shall be very happy to assist you. I fought for the King at Preston,’ and he made a great flourish of his services and valorous acts, not being sure that the Messengers had reinforcements without, and hoping that Mr. Kelly might enter meanwhile and do what was needful. Mrs. Kilburne’s tongue and care for the Parson seemed likely to forward this plan, for, with many unnecessary words, she declared how the Colonel had lodged with her for years.
‘And as for Mr. Johnson,’ she said, ‘there was such a man who came and went, but he lodged with Mrs. Barnes in Bury Street, and there you should go if you seek for news of him.’
But the ten minutes were not yet gone. The maid remained downstairs in the passage. She was a perfectly honest poor wench, who would have risked herself for the Parson or for any gentleman in distress. But Montague, however closely he listened, could not hear that she opened the door, or any noise in the room below.
Hutchins made his apologies with a great many ‘your honours,’ and the Colonel was no less polite in his compliments upon Hutchins’s zeal, which he would be sure to make known in the proper quarters. But still the Parson did not come, and Montague could hold the Messengers in talk no longer, though that would have been of little use, as he now discovered.
For Hutchins turned about to Chandler, —
‘Go down into the street and tell Lyng and Randall,’ he said, ‘that our man is not come. Bid them watch for him at the corner of Ryder Street and St. James’s.’ And as he spoke he gave Chandler the warrant. Chandler slipped it into his pocket, and ran downstairs to join the others of his worshipful calling in the street. Hutchins followed him, but remained within, in the passage, to watch the maid of the house, and see that she did not go out to warn the Parson.
The Colonel and Mrs. Kilburne were thus left alone.
‘Mrs. Kilburne,’ said Montague. ‘You must take my word for it, I am Mr. Kelly’s friend, and without any argument, if you please.’ For he saw that she was on the point of interrupting him. ‘There is but one thing you can do for him. Send someone you can trust, or go yourself to lure the Messengers off to Mrs. Barnes’s house. But you must be quick, and here’s money to help you.’
He filled her hands with the Parson’s gold, and she, in her turn, went downstairs and out of the house by a door at the back. Montague, for his part, had it in mind to try whether the like means might not over-persuade Hutchins’s zeal. With that design he descended to Hutchins, whom he found lighting a candle in Mr. Kelly’s room with the door open so that he might command a view of the maid who was still waiting in the passage.
The Colonel stepped into the room, casting his eyes about for the strong-box with Smilinda’s letters, which he could not see. He saw the scrutoire, however, which stood in the window with the lid closed. Hutchins held the candle above his head and remarked it at the same time.
‘I will search the rooms,’ he said with an air of consequence. Colonel Montague was in a quandary. Hutchins had only to throw back the lid and the Parson’s strong-box would be in his hands. He had only then to break open the lock, and all Smilinda’s dainty sentiments about the union of souls would be splotched over by the dirty thumbs of a constable. And the Colonel could not prevent the sacrilege unless the money did it for him.
‘Mr. Hutchins,’ he said, and jingled the gold in his pockets. But he got no further in his persuasions. For the name was scarce off his lips when a hubbub arose without. It was a confusion of noise at the first as though it came from the end of the street.
‘They have taken him,’ said Hutchins, setting down the candle and flinging aside the curtains of the window.
The noise was louder, and Kelly’s voice was heard, bawling, ‘A rescue! An arrest! an arrest! A rescue!’ that the rabble might think he was taken for debt. Those who were gathered in front of the house did indeed turn themselves about, but they were for the most part of the better class, and the night-rakers and such-like who might have attempted a rescue, only came up behind at Mr. Kelly’s bawling, from St. James’s Street, where they were likely to find more profit than in Ryder Street. This friendly mob was running together indeed, but came too late.
‘Yes, they have taken him,’ said Montague. Mrs. Kilburne had not drawn the Messengers off. On the other hand, Hutchins had not opened Mr. Kelly’s scrutoire. ‘They have taken him,’ and the Parson was already under the window. His sword was gleaming in his hand but the Messengers dragged upon his arms and he could not use it.
Hutchins threw up the window.
‘Bring him in,’ and he rushed to the street door and unlocked it. Kelly was hustled up the steps, shouting all the while. He was forced into the passage just as the rabble came up at his heels.
‘A rescue!’ they cried.
Lyng and Chandler turned about and drove them back. Randall sprang in after Kelly and slammed the door.
The posture of affairs then was this:
Colonel Montague and Hutchins were standing in Mr. Kelly’s room close to the scrutoire and the open window.
Mr. Kelly, Lyng, who was a big lout, designed by Providence for this office and no other, and the maid, were in the passage. Randall and Chandler were outside in the street and at their wits’ ends to keep back the mob, which was now grown very clamorous.
Mr. Kelly was the first to make any movement. He sheathed his sword, carefully dusted the sleeves of his coat where the Messengers had held him and arranged his cravat.
‘These are ill times for a peaceful man to live in,’ he said. ‘It seems a gentleman cannot walk home of an evening but he must be set upon and cuffed.’
With a shrug of the shoulders, as though the whole matter was a mystery, he sauntered into his parlour. His eyes carelessly took in the room. It seemed that nothing had been disturbed. The scrutoire was shut, but were Smilinda’s letters still hidden there or were they safe in Montague’s pockets? His eyes rested on the Colonel’s face and put the question. But the Colonel gave no sign; Hutchins stood at his elbow. Kelly’s eyes travelled from the Colonel’s face to his red coat.
‘One of the King’s officers,’ he said with a smile. ‘In the presence of one of the King’s officers, gentlemen,’ he said politely with a bow to Hutchins, ‘I take it that you will forgo your ingenious attempt to rob me and we may all go quietly to bed.’
He moved as he spoke towards the scrutoire, and again looked at the Colonel. The Colonel’s face was still a blank.
‘We hold a warrant for the arrest of George Kelly, alias James Johnson,’ began Hutchins.
‘Indeed?’ replied George with an effort of attention, as though fatigue put a strain upon his good manners. ‘And why should George Kelly prefer to call himself James Johnson? I cannot think it is the better name. Mr. George Kelly lacks taste, I am afraid,’ and he stifled a yawn with his hand.
‘Colonel Montague,’ said Hutchins, who was in some perplexity as to what to make of Kelly’s present indifference, ‘your honour promised to assist me.’
Colonel Montague being appealed to, nodded his head.
‘Though you will not need my assistance,’ he said, ‘for here is another of your fellows.’
Chandler had come within the house, and pushing into the room said that the curtains were drawn apart so that the rabble could see clearly all that happened in the room and were on that account the less inclined to disperse. As he spoke he hitched the curtains to and a volley of curses went up from the disappointed crowd.
Hutchins immediately turned to Kelly.
‘Give me your sword.’
Kelly, who knew not what to make of the Colonel’s manner, but thought it likely he had taken his measures, took his sword by the hanger and handed it sheath and all to Hutchins, who in his turn passed it to Montague. Montague stood in the corner by the window.
‘There is some stupid blunder,’ said Kelly, ‘which I cannot take it upon me to understand. You talk to me a great deal about a warrant, but I have not seen it. It is a new thing to come taking off gentlemen to the round-house in the middle of the night without a warrant, but we live in ill times.’ All this he said with an admirable air of resignation, though his eyes kept glancing towards Montague, who still dared give no sign. The Colonel waited upon occasion; his present aim was to hinder the Messengers from any suspicion that the Parson and he were in one purpose or indeed were acquainted.
In answer to Kelly, Chandler took the warrant from his pocket and handed it to Colonel Montague, who read it through.
‘It is a very sufficient warrant,’ he said, ‘and this gentleman may be satisfied if he is rightly named, of which of course I have no assurance,’ and folding the paper he handed it back to Chandler. Whereupon Chandler went out again into the street to guard the door from the rabble.
Hutchins then took Kelly’s hat, placed it on the table, and searching his pockets, pulled out some papers which he had about him, things of no moment; and these papers he laid in the hat. But to search Kelly’s pockets Hutchins must needs stoop. Here was the Colonel’s chance. Over Hutchins’ shoulder, Kelly’s eyes again put their question. The Colonel now answered with a shake of the head. Smilinda’s letters had not been saved, a great surprise and disappointment to the Parson, who of course knew nothing of Montague’s mistaken arrest.
Kelly, however, wasted no precious moments in regrets. As Hutchins turned to place the papers in the hat, Kelly thrust Lyng aside, and, springing to the window, tore aside the curtains and again bawled at the top of his voice. ‘A rescue! An arrest!’
Shouts of encouragement greeted him; the hubbub filled the street again. Hutchins and Lyng at once sprang upon Kelly, tore him back from the window, and sent him staggering across the room.
‘Tie his hands!’ cried Hutchins, as he pulled down the sash. ‘Knock him down! Gag him!’ and he turned to help Lyng.
The maid in the passage began to cry; the Colonel stood irresolute; the Parson drew himself up against the wall as the two men approached him. His Irish blood bubbled in his veins at the prospect of so fine a tumble. He clenched his hands. He forgot Smilinda’s letter, the Cause, even Rose. His face became one broad grin and in an accent as broad as the grin.
‘And what’ll I be doin’ while you’re tyin’ my hands?’ he asked. ‘Why, just this,’ and his fist shot out like a battering-ram and took the worthy Lyng on the tip of the chin. Mr. Lyng was clean lifted off both his feet and so sat down on the floor with some violence, where he felt his neck in a dazed sort of way to make sure that it was not broken.
‘Oh, why isn’t Nick here?’ cried Kelly, and indeed Nicholas Wogan bewails his absence at that festivity to this day. ‘Come, Mr. Hutchins, I have the other fist for you,’ and he began to dance towards Hutchins, who called on the Colonel to mark the murderous look in the prisoner’s eyes and save him from immediate destruction.
‘Is it destruction you want?’ asked Kelly with a chuckle. ‘I’ll gratify you with all the destruction imaginable.’ And no doubt he would have been as good as his word. But Hutchins, while shutting the window had not drawn the curtains, and the rabble in the street had thus enjoyed a full view of the Parson’s prowess. They had roared their applause when Lyng went down, and as Hutchins drew back before the Parson’s fisticuffs, they hooted the Messenger for a coward and made a rush at the door. A stone or two shattered the window and a voice was yelling, ‘Murder! murder!’ in tones of unmistakable sincerity. Chandler then rushed in, his face bleeding, and said that Randall was being mobbed, and, if they did not come to help him, would be knocked on the head. At this, Lyng, who was now got to his feet, ran out into the street with Chandler. Hutchins remained in the room, but cried out to Chandler that he should go or send for a file of musquets.
Now Chandler, when he rushed into the room, was holding the warrant in his hand, he still held it when he ran out again, as the Parson remarked, and instantly thought of a plan by which, after all, Smilinda’s letters might be secured, and her name kept wholly out of the business. Accordingly he ceased from his warlike posture and sat down in a chair. Hutchins took the occasion to draw the curtains and shut out the mob from a view of the room. Mr. Kelly smiled, for he was just wondering what excuse he could discover to do that very thing himself. Mr. Hutchins was helping him very well.
‘It is a pity,’ said the Parson in a plaintive voice, sucking his knuckles, which were bleeding, ‘that a peaceful, law-abiding citizen must put himself to so much discomfort because a couple of rascally Messengers will not show him their warrant.’
‘It is under Lord Townshend’s seal,’ began Hutchins.
‘It may be, or it may not be. I have not seen it. I cannot really surrender unless the proper formalities are observed.’
Hutchins, who was no doubt well pleased to see the peaceful turn things were taking and had not the wits to suspect it, replied with an oafish grin that the prisoner was wise to submit himself to his lawful captors.
‘And as for the warrant, Chandler has it safe enough in the street.’
‘In the street!’ cried Kelly, suddenly flying into a passion. ‘And what’s the warrant doing in the street? How dare the warrant be in the street when it is intended for a gentleman in the house? Upon my word it would take very little to persuade me that there’s no warrant at all,’ and he began to stamp and fume about the room.
‘Colonel Montague has read it,’ said Hutchins.
‘I certainly read a warrant,’ agreed the Colonel with an impartial air.
‘A warrant, yes,’ said Kelly in a testy voice. ‘But how can the Colonel know whether it is intended for me? How can he know whether it is a real warrant at all? You come here with a scutcheon, Mr. Hutchins. But you might have stolen the scutcheon, as you have certainly forged the warrant.’ He stopped in front of Hutchins and wagged his head at him. ‘Mr. Hutchins, I begin to suspect you are one of a gang of cheats come here to rob me. But I will not be your gull,’ he cried out as though his fury overmastered him. ‘No, nor his worship the Colonel either,’ and he called to the maid to lock the street door.
‘Lock it,’ said he. ‘Lock the door’ and Mr. Hutchins and I will get to the bottom of the matter quietly.’
That very thing now happened which Mr. Kelly most desired. The maid ran down the passage to the street door: Hutchins ran out of the room after her to prevent her locking it. Kelly flung to the door of the parlour: Mr. Hutchins was outside, the Colonel and Kelly were alone within the room.
