The Mysteries of London (Vol. 1-4). George W. M. Reynolds
detailing the particulars of his unfortunate position, and beseeching him not to be prejudiced against him by the report which he might read in the newspapers the following day.
"Whittingham, my old friend," said Markham, when he had disposed of these matters; "we must now separate for the present. This letter for Mr. Monroe you will forward by post: the other, to Mrs. Arlington, you will take yourself to Bond Street, and deliver into her own hand." Then, addressing himself to Mac Chizzle, he observed, "I thank you, sir, for your attendance here to-day. Whittingham will give you the address of my guardian, Mr. Monroe; and that gentleman will consult with you upon the proper course to be pursued. He will also answer any pecuniary demands you may have occasion to make upon him."
Richard had preserved an unnatural degree of calmness as he uttered these words; and Whittingham was himself astonished at the coolness with which his young master delivered his instructions. The old butler wept bitterly when he took leave of "Master Richard;" and it cost the young man himself no inconsiderable effort to restrain his own tears.
"What is raly your inferential opinion in this matter?" demanded the butler of the lawyer, as they issued from the door of the police-office together.
"Why, that it was a capital scheme to raise the wind, and a very great pity that it did not succeed to a far greater extent," cried the professional adviser.
"Well, if you put that opinion down in your bill and charge six-and-eightpence for it," said Whittingham, with a very serious countenance, "I shall certainly dispute the item, and computate it, when I audit the accounts."
"I am really at a loss to comprehend you," said the lawyer. "Of course there are no secrets between you and me: indeed, you had much better tell me the whole truth——"
"Truth!" ejaculated Whittingham: "of course I shall tell you the truth."
"Allow me to ask a question or two, then," resumed the lawyer. "I suppose that you were in the plant, and divided the swag?"
Mr. Whittingham stared at the professional man with the most unfeigned astonishment, which, indeed, was so great that it checked all reply.
"Well," proceeded the shrewd Mr. Mac Chizzle, "it wasn't a bad dodge either. And I suppose that this Monroe is a party to the whole concern?"
"Is it possible, Mr. Mac Chizzle," exclaimed the butler, "that——"
"But the business is awkward—very awkward," added the solicitor, shaking his head. "It was however fortunate that nothing transpired to implicate you also. When one pal is at large, he can do much for another who is in lavender. It would have been worse if you had been lumbered too—far worse."
"Plant—pal—lumbered—lavender!" repeated Whittingham, with considerable emphasis on each word as he slowly uttered it. "I suppose you raly think my master is guilty of the crime computed to him?"
"Of course I do," replied Mac Chizzle: "I can see as far into a brick wall as any one."
"Well, it's of no use argufying the pint," said the butler, after a moment's pause. "Here is Mr. Monroe's address: perhaps when you have seen him, you will arrive at new inclusions."
Mr. Whittingham then took leave of the solicitor, and proceeded to Bond Street.
Within a few yards of the house in which Mrs. Arlington resided, the butler ran against an individual who, with his hat perched jauntily on his right ear, was lounging along.
"Holloa, you fellow!" ejaculated Mr. Thomas Sugget—for it was he—"what do you mean by coming bolt agin a gen'leman in that kind of way?"
"Oh! my dear sir," cried Whittingham, "is that you? I am raly perforated with delight to see you."
Mr. Suggett gave a good long stare at Mr. Whittingham, and then exclaimed "Oh! it is you—is it? Well, I must say that your legs are in a very unfinished condition."
"How, sir—how?" demanded the irritated butler.
"Why, they want a pair of fetters, to be sure," said Suggett; and breaking into a horse-laugh, he passed rapidly on.
Whittingham felt humiliated; and the knock that he gave at the door of Diana's lodgings was sneaking and subdued. In a few minutes, however, he was ushered into a back room on the first floor, where Mrs. Arlington received him.
"Here is a letter, ma'am, which I was to deliver only into your own indentical hand."
"Is it—is it from your master?" demanded the Enchantress.
"It is, ma'am."
"Where is Mr. Markham?" asked Diana, receiving the letter with a trembling hand.
"He is now in Bow-street Police-Office, ma'am: in the course of the day he will be in Newgate;"—and the old butler wiped away a tear.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Diana; "then it is really too true!"
She immediately tore open the letter, and ran her eye over the contents, which were as follow:—
"The villany of one of the individuals with whom you are constantly associating, and in whom it has been my misfortune to place unlimited confidence, will perhaps involve you in an embarrassment similar to the one in which I am now placed. I cannot, I do not for one moment imagine that you are in any way conversant with their vile schemes:—I can read your heart; I know that you would scorn such a confederacy. Your frankness, your candour are in your favour: your countenance, which is engraven upon my memory, and which I behold at this moment as if it were really before me, forbids all suspicions injurious to your honour. Take a timely warning, then: take warning from one who wishes you well: and dissolve the connexion ere it be too late.
"R. M."
"When shall you see your master again?" enquired Diana of the butler, after the perusal of this letter.
"To-morrow, ma'am—with the blessing of God."
"My compliments to him—my very best remembrances," said Mrs. Arlington; "and I feel deeply grateful for this communication."
Whittingham bowed, and rose to depart.
"And," added Diana, after a moment's pause, "if there be anything in which my humble services can be made available, pray do not hesitate to come to me. Indeed, I hope you will call—often—and let me know how this unfortunate business proceeds."
"Then you don't believe that Master Richard is capable of this obliquity, madam?" cried the butler.
"Oh! no—impossible!" said Diana emphatically.
"Thank 'ee, ma'am, thank 'ee," exclaimed Whittingham: "you have done my poor old heart good. God bless you, ma'am—God bless you!"
And with these words the faithful dependant took his departure, not a little delighted to think that there was at least one person in the world who believed in the innocence of "Master Richard." In fact, the kindness of Diana's manner and the sincerity with which she had expressed herself on that point, effectually wiped away from the mind of the butler the reminiscences of Mac Chizzle's derogatory suspicions, and Suggett's impertinence.
After a few minutes' profound reflection, Diana returned to the drawing-room, where Sir Rupert Harborough, Mr. Chichester, and Talbot were seated.
Her fine countenance wore an expression of melancholy seriousness; and there was a nervous movement of the under lip that denoted the existence of powerful emotions in her bosom.
"Well, Di.," exclaimed the baronet; "you seem annoyed."
"You will be surprised, gentlemen, when I inform you who has been here," she said, resuming her seat upon the sofa.
"Indeed!" cried Chichester, turning pale: "who could it be?"
"Not an officer, I hope?" exclaimed the baronet.
"The chimley-sweeps, perhaps," suggested Mr. Talbot.
"A person from Mr. Markham," said Diana, seriously. "By his appearance