A Spectacle Of Corruption Part 27

"Of course, of course. The bill is for two hundred and fifty pounds, no more than that-excepting, of course, a few odd pounds for my stay here. There have been a few bottles of port, you know, and some meals. The paper and pen are a bit expensive too, which I find outrageous. But I should think two hundred and sixty pounds will more than answer our needs."

I could hardly believe that he would speak of these sums so freely. Two hundred and sixty pounds surely signified, even to a man such as Matthew Evans. Why, it would be more than a quarter of his fict.i.tious income. For Benjamin Weaver, however, it would mean the loss of the bulk of the money I had taken from the house of Judge Rowley. I did not know how I could afford to pay out such an amount, though I knew excusing myself should prove a mighty setback.

"If I may be so bold, Mr. Melbury, I have been made to understand that your wife is possessed of a large fortune."

"Do you mean that she is a Jewess, sir?" he asked me pointedly. "Is that your meaning? That I have married a Jewess, so I must not want for money?"

"I do not mean that at all. I say only that I have been told she came to your union possessed of a large fortune."

"All the world thinks that because she is a Jewess she must have money. My life, I should have you know, is not a production of The Jew of Venice The Jew of Venice upon the stage; all my wife must do is rob her father of his moneybags, and all will be well. I am sorry to tell you, sir, that there is a great rift between the truth and the stage." upon the stage; all my wife must do is rob her father of his moneybags, and all will be well. I am sorry to tell you, sir, that there is a great rift between the truth and the stage."

"I have said nothing of rich fathers or moneybags."

"Very good," he said, taking my hand. "I am sorry I grew warm with you. I know you meant nothing. You are a good man, Evans, a monstrous good man. And I have no doubt that you understand that a man cannot run to his wife's petticoats every time he faces a danger. What sort of life is that?"

Was I to conclude then that I must surrender nearly every penny I had in the world so this man might not trouble himself to ask for money from his own wife? The very idea enraged me. Of course, I could also find no pleasure in the idea that he would squander Miriam's small fortune on his debts while he gambled without remorse.

"I should think the bonds of matrimony would reduce a man's squeamishness."

"Spoken like a bachelor." He laughed. "Someday you will take the vows yourself, and you will see that it is a bit more complicated than you now flatter yourself. But as for now, what say you, Evans? Are you able to help defeat the Whigs here or no?"

What could I say? "Certainly."

"Splendid. Now let's find Miller and kick him through this world."

As we had been locked inside the chamber, we found Miller by pounding upon the door. Melbury then gleefully told him that I would sign for the money, and that once the election was over he would return to make Miller answer for his rudeness.

"As to what you call rudeness, I can say nothing," Miller told him. "It is not a rudeness to demand what is yours. I think it ill-natured to refuse to give what you owe, but I will say no more of that. As to the signing of notes, I fear that it is a ticklish matter. You see that the note that led Mr. Melbury here today was signed freely, and yet there was to be no money behind it. I should like something more than airy notes for my trouble, Mr. Evans. As this kingdom has learned from the South Sea Company, it is one thing to put your promises to paper but quite another to honor those promises."

"The South Sea men are a pack of Whigs who know nothing about honoring promises," Melbury mumbled, clearly out of sorts at having been likened to the Company directors.

"Whigs and Tories are all one to me," Miller said. "If a man is not good-natured enough to keep his word, I care nothing for his party. And for the moment, I care only for knowing how I shall receive my money from Mr. Evans."

I confess I could not blame the fellow for his concern, for I had no desire to hand over a note to this rascal. As I was not, in any honest manner of speaking, such a person as Matthew Evans, my signing a note in his name would const.i.tute a forgery-a crime with which I might be asked to pay with my life. I had every hope of being able to vindicate myself in the matter of Yate's death; as to the injury done to Mr. Rowley, surely the world would forgive it as the hasty action of a man more sinned against than sinning. But if I were to begin generating money with false notes, that was another problem altogether, and it was a risk I was unwilling to take in the service of the man who had married the woman I love.

I cleared my throat and addressed Miller. "You can hardly expect me to have so large a sum on my person."

"I might hope that you would. I might ardently wish for it. But as to expectations, you are surely right. It is the unusual man who carries with him so much ready cash for no particular reason. I hope, therefore, that you will allow me to call upon you at your home-let us say in five days' time-and there I will ask you for the sum we have here mentioned."

"Splendid idea," said Melbury.

I nodded my agreement. I had grown to depend so much on Melbury's success in this election that I would risk almost anything on his behalf.

"I hope it is a splendid idea," said Miller. "I hope so most fervently, for if Mr. Evans fails to be able to make his payment as promised, I shall be forced to begin with you anew, Mr. Melbury. Under the circ.u.mstances, you may not hide in your home or leave town. You must be in the metropolis, visible and, so, vulnerable. I hope you will not play any ill-natured games with my patience."

"I should like to play a game with your head, Miller. I should like to play a game with your head and a large stick, but as to your patience, you may be certain I shall leave it be."

"That is all I ask of you. That and to refrain from being quite so ill-natured."

Conducting himself in the fashion of a man leaping with vigor from a favorite bagnio, rather than one released from a sponging house by someone little more than an acquaintance, Melbury called for a hackney and ushered me inside.

"I trust you have no pressing plans. You have some time just now?"

"I suppose I do," I said, thinking only of the impending visit by t.i.tus Miller and what that might mean for my finances.

"Very good," he said, "for there is a place I've a mind to visit."

The place, it turned out, was a tavern called the Fig Tree far to the west in Marylebone. I had now had my ear to the political ground for some weeks, but even if I had not, I still would have recognized the place as a notorious gathering spot for Whigs of the most ardent nature.

"What should lead us to such a place?"

"Dennis Dogmill," he said.

"Do you think it wise to confront the man in the heart of his own stronghold?"

"I am beginning to care less and less for wise wise and with greater fervor for and with greater fervor for bold bold. Is it mere coincidence that a pack of thugs descend on the polling place, meant to terrify every liberty-loving elector away-at the precise moment that blockhead Miller descends on me with a new vengeance? I tell you, Dogmill and Hertcomb have smelled the scent of their own defeat, and it is not pleasing to their nostrils. Now they wish to throw our fat upon the fire to appease their Whiggish G.o.ds, but I shall not tolerate it, and I mean to tell them myself-in public and before as many of their supporters as choose to listen."

"That is all very good," I said, "but I must ask again if you think it wise."

"How can it not be wise when I have my most stalwart friend by my side? The Whigs have learned once, and in the most painful fashion, that it does not pay to apply violence to Matthew Evans. I think they may learn the same lesson tonight."

It would seem, then, that in Melbury's mind I had become both his banker and his henchman, and like a hired Swiss I was to put myself in the way of whatever danger he chose for no other reason but that he chose it. I hardly relished my new role, but neither did I bid him to stop the coach or attempt to persuade him to alter his course of action.

We drew up outside the tavern in question, where a large crowd was now congregated. The men were not of the rough sort who had begun to plague the polls-these were respectable men of the middling order: shopkeepers and clerks and lawyers of unremarkable success-and they were hardly the kind to erupt into violence, so I let out a sigh of relief. I let out another when I saw that this throng awaited entry into the tavern. Melbury, I presumed, would be too impatient in his wrath to wait for a period of time-which might stretch to hours-in order to speak a few cross words to men who would pay him no mind. I soon discovered, however, that I had underestimated his resolve. He approached the crowd and announced in a booming voice that we would pa.s.s through, and the authority in his tone did the business. The men-bemused and irritated-stepped aside. They grumbled as we pa.s.sed, but we pa.s.sed all the same.

Inside, the scene was nothing short of riotous. A great sheep roasted on a spit over an open fire, and with each turn a new piece was cut off and placed on a plate, a prize for which a hundred hands rose up in greedy antic.i.p.ation. The air smelled of charred meat and strong tobacco and of the spilled wine that formed sticky puddles on the floor. In the center of the tavern, tables had been cleared away to make a great s.p.a.ce, and those men who did not clamor for mutton like starving prisoners had gathered in a circle here, some cheering, some moaning and clutching at their heads in horror.

Melbury nudged me. "That's where we'll find him," he said, pointing to the circle. He led us around to a spot he reckoned would be the most propitious for our point of entry and began to make a path through the crowd, easily five or six men deep. We had burrowed about halfway into the depth when I saw the spectacle that so entranced the onlookers. A pair of mighty c.o.c.ks-one black with white streaks, the other white with bits of red and brown-circled each other with unmistakable menace. The black one moved slowly, and I could see that its feathers were heavy and wet, but because of his color and the poorness of the light, it took a moment for me to recognize that it was his own blood that dampened him.

The black bird reared up and leaped at the white, but it was obvious that its strength had been tapped. The stronger bird, unenc.u.mbered with injury, easily dodged the attack and, with the wounded aggressor off balance, spun around and leaped in turn upon the poor creature. It was only then that I saw that their claws had been affixed with small blades, which augmented the damage of their natural weapons most terribly. The white bird gave his opponent what was surely a finishing blow, and the black c.o.c.k turned upon his side and fought no more.

A mighty noise rose up from the crowd, and money at once began to change hands. After half a moment, enough quiet had descended that someone began to speak. Because it was hard to hear, it took a moment for me to recognize that it was Dennis Dogmill's voice I now heard.

"We shall present another match for your entertainment in an hour's time," he announced. "For now, those of you who find yourselves having chosen the wrong bird in this contest may take some comfort in knowing that the losing beast was a member of the Tory party, and it is said in the vicinity of the henhouse that he was of a Jacobitical bent. And there are other reasons to rejoice. We dominate our opposition at the polls, and we may soon rejoice in the victory of Whig liberties over Tory absolutism."

The crowd answered this proclamation with far more laughter than it deserved, but then the men began to dissipate, some toward the mutton, which continued to rotate agreeably and yield meat, others to the barrels of wine that sprung cheap drink lavishly and freely. There could be no mystery, however, as to where Griffin Melbury received his sustenance. He strode boldly up to Dennis Dogmill and Albert Hertcomb.

"Has your blood sport sufficiently satisfied your portion of the electorate, or will you continue to depend upon roughs to make a mockery of British liberties?"

"It can hardly be a mockery to permit the unenfranchised to express their opinions as best they can," Hertcomb proposed. "I suppose some men are inclined to the French way of doing things-using soldiers to beat down any man who might say something not to his liking."

"I'll not listen to these lies," Melbury said. "You must know that if your roughs do not disappear, the election must be contested by the House."

"Perhaps so," Dogmill agreed, "but as all signs indicate that the Whig majority will be as strong, if not stronger, than ever, I need hardly doubt what conclusion that august body will reach."

The calmness of the words, the ease with which they were spoken, the confidence of victory to which they testified-despite the Tory candidate's still possessing the lead-only served to inflame Melbury further. "d.a.m.n you for a rascal, Dogmill! Do you think Westminster is a pocket borough to be a.s.signed to whomever you please because you spread your money around? I think you will soon learn that British liberty is a beast not easily managed, once uncaged."

"I beg your pardon," Dogmill said, "but I will not have you or any any man address me in such terms." man address me in such terms."

"I am available for redress if you think yourself wronged."

"Mr. Dogmill does not believe in defending his honor during the election season," I volunteered. "Something to do, I think, with the Whig electorate not respecting a man who values his name or reputation. I have found that if you press Mr. Dogmill hard enough, he will loose his temper and lash out, but he will never behave as befits a man of honor."

"Don't think I have forgotten about you, Evans," he said to me. "You may be sure that when the polls close you will learn the difference between a man you can abuse and a man of resolve."

"You misunderstand me," I said, "if you think I doubt your resolve. Any man who can convince the very fellows he beats into poverty to rise up against the man who would make their lot easier is a fellow of great resolve, I should say."

"What, those porters?" He laughed. "I thank you for your compliment, but you must not think I had anything to do with their behavior. Rather, you misunderstand the nature of life on our island, Evans, being so new to it. Those low fellows will love the man they serve, so long as he continues to pay them, and the less he pays them, the more he will be loved. We may speak of British liberty, but the truth is these roughs love to feel the lash upon their backs and the boot to their a.r.s.es. I gave them no encouragement to stand up for me. They did as they, in their limited way, understood to be what was right."

"Those fellows are good Whigs," Hertcomb said, "and no amount of agitation will turn them Tory."

"They are neither Whig nor content to be trod upon," I said. "You play a dangerous game with their liberty."

Dogmill took a step toward me. "You are a fine man to speak of liberty," he said. "Tell us, if you will, about the liberty of the Africans enslaved on your lands in Jamaica. What freedoms do they have to speak their minds? Tell us, Mr. Evans, how much you raised up the downtrodden laborer on your own plantation."

I fear I had no words at my disposal, for I had never taken the time to think of that aspect of my disguise before, and though I knew that arguments for the justness of slavery were to be found in print, I was familiar with none that I could utter without feeling foolish. I suppose, if I had rehea.r.s.ed them, I might have been able to offer some clever rejoinder in defense of a practice that, truth be told, no honorable man can endorse. Yet I should rather have defended all the wrongs in the world than stand there, as I did, looking bashful and confused, leading Dogmill to believe that he had scored a mighty blow against me.

To my shame, Melbury came to my rescue. "A man invested in the trade of human flesh can hardly criticize another for being a customer in that trade. Your sense of the truth is as crooked as your sense of honorable electioneering. I come here, in the midst of your revels, to give you both notice that I will not stand by and see this election corrupted. I do not fear you and I do not credit your reputations. You may call me out or not, according to your own sense of honor. But what you will not do is defeat me, not by trickery. You may run this race fairly or you may simply run. What you will not do is buy a seat in the House of Commons. Not here. Not in Westminster. I have placed myself as guard on the bridge of liberty, sirs, and corruption may not pa.s.s."

With that he turned on his heel and led us from the heart of the beast, not affording either man the opportunity to respond.

Once in the hackney, Melbury congratulated himself on the prettiness of his speech. "I told him a thing or two. Not that he will much care, of course. My words will mean nothing to him."

"Then why trouble yourself to speak them?"

"Why, because I made certain that a few men of the Tory papers were in that crowd, and they will be certain to print my words for the world to see-just as the world will see that I was man enough to speak them in the very den of the enemy. Dogmill and Hertcomb are now probably laughing to themselves about what a fool I am to come trouble them with my sanctimonious speeches, but I believe they will make quite a stir. Any man who is undecided in this election will rejoice in my determination to fight the corruption of hired ruffians disturbing Tories at the polls."

"And how do you propose to fight them? Do you plan to hire your own ruffians?"

He cast me a look I might have antic.i.p.ated had I asked if he intended to kiss Hertcomb on the lips. I sensed I greatly disappointed him. "I leave those sorts of tactics to Dogmill and the Whigs. No, I shall defeat their violence with virtue. Their men cannot riot forever. The king will have to send in soldiers sooner or later, and when the polls are once more quiet, the electors of Westminster will be more eager than ever to cast their votes for me."

I begrudgingly admired his resolution, but the next day, when I visited Covent Garden, I saw that men had taken to arms in the Tory cause. I might have excused Melbury and believed that these rioters acted on their own volition, but it seemed to me all too obvious they had been hired to do their work. The men who fought back in the cause of Griffin Melbury were Littleton's porters.

CHAPTER 23.

THE SCENE at Covent Garden was scarcely to be believed. I might easily have imagined myself in Lisbon during the time of the Inquisition, or perhaps some medieval capital when the plague ravaged the lands. I wanted to see the events for myself, and I spent no small amount of time in the debate of whether I ought to attend as Evans or Weaver. Though I feared Weaver might be seen, I had come to realize that every pa.s.sing man did not take the time to examine the face of his neighbor to see whether or no he might be a fugitive. Evans, on the other hand, as a gentleman, might draw unwanted attention from the election roughs, so Weaver won the day. at Covent Garden was scarcely to be believed. I might easily have imagined myself in Lisbon during the time of the Inquisition, or perhaps some medieval capital when the plague ravaged the lands. I wanted to see the events for myself, and I spent no small amount of time in the debate of whether I ought to attend as Evans or Weaver. Though I feared Weaver might be seen, I had come to realize that every pa.s.sing man did not take the time to examine the face of his neighbor to see whether or no he might be a fugitive. Evans, on the other hand, as a gentleman, might draw unwanted attention from the election roughs, so Weaver won the day.

I marveled that a few men and light purses could so easily topple the monument of our cherished British liberties. A few stalwart voters braved the dangers, but they were mad to do so. If a rough heard him speak his party at the polling booth, the elector would at once be pulled out and pummeled. Then the opposing men would make themselves known and raise their fists to the offenders. Spectators gathered around to observe the festivities. The crowd was thick with oyster women and pickpockets and beggars, and I held myself a safe distance from the mayhem, not wishing to become a victim to anyone's tricks.

In doing so I spied several men I recognized from Littleton's gang and could conclude that Melbury had decided to take the fight to Dogmill's doorstep. I took a bit of pleasure in this realization. For all his n.o.ble talk, Melbury was no better than the rest of them.

Nevertheless, the scene of confusion was not one I enjoyed, and after a small dead dog went flying through the air, nearly striking me in the head, I determined that it was time for me to depart the plaza. As I turned, however, I saw a man very far away that I recognized. I realized that I knew him, and his companion too, before I could think of who he was. And then it came on me all at once: These were the Riding Officers who had twice attempted to take me.

For a moment I froze in terror, certain that they had tracked me to this place and that they knew where I had taken up residence. Then I saw they were laughing and walking with the easy sway of drunkards. They were not there to follow me but to amuse themselves with the spectacle of violence. I nearly ducked away, relieved that I had seen them before they saw me. But then I had a better idea. I would follow them.

My work here was not difficult. They took themselves to a tavern off Covent Garden on Great Earl Street and seated themselves in the back, calling at once for drink. I was able to find a dark corner for myself that gave me a fine vantage point but offered little risk of being seen. I called the barman over and inquired what these two worthies were drinking.

"They ordered wine," he said, "but wouldn't pay for nothing but what was cheapest. Finally settled for some very poor claret that's a week or more vinegar."

"Send them two bottles of your best," I said. "Say only they were paid for by a gentleman who overheard their order and then departed."

He looked at me quizzically. "There's something that don't sound right in that. Oughtn't they to know who it is that gets them drunk? Mayhap I should tell them your proposal and let them make up their own minds."

"If you tell anything of me, I'll break your leg," I said to him. Then I grinned. "On the other hand, if you don't I'll give you an extra shilling."

He nodded. "Well, then. Looks like I'll be doing some lying, don't it?"

"There are worse fates than being bought wine by a stranger," I said, to further soften his misgivings, but my efforts were wasted. The promise of the extra shilling had already done all that could be done.

I sat in my dark corner for the better part of two hours, slowly drinking small beer and eating some hot rolls I had the barman fetch for me from the baker around the corner. Finally, the two men rose, and rose most unsteadily. They called their thanks to the barman, and one of them approached the fellow and shook his hand. He was easily the more drunk of the two, so I set my cap at him.

I rose and followed quickly so as not to lose them, but I needn't have rushed. They remained just outside the tavern, dropping coins and then picking them up, only to drop them once more and then laugh. I remained in the dark of the doorway and waited an infuriating five minutes while they performed this ritual and then said their toddling goodbyes. One went off, presumably to safety. The other had a much harder fate awaiting him.

I did not wait long. As soon as he departed a more trafficked street, I quickened my pace. In doing so, I made my approach louder, but I was prepared to take that risk, given the depth of his inebriation. Nevertheless, he turned, startled at the sound of my approach. He stopped and opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced whatever words he had planned with my fist. did not wait long. As soon as he departed a more trafficked street, I quickened my pace. In doing so, I made my approach louder, but I was prepared to take that risk, given the depth of his inebriation. Nevertheless, he turned, startled at the sound of my approach. He stopped and opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced whatever words he had planned with my fist.

Down he went into the muck, his fall softened only by the large dead rat that served as a pillow under his head. While he lay in confusion, I reached over and pulled his pistols from his pocket and his blade from his scabbard. I little doubted he was unprepared to use these weapons, but I saw no point in letting him try the experiment. Now he stared at me. A thin stream of blood ran from his lip, and in the darkness it looked as black as tar.

"Do you recollect me?" I asked.

I could see the drunkenness spilling out of him. "Weaver," he said.

"That's right."

"I wasn't bothering you."

"Not tonight you weren't, but you might recall that you've tried to arrest me once or twice in the past."

"That is only business," he said.

"And so is this. Tell me why, precisely, Riding Officers are seeking to bring me in." I knew the answer full well, but I wished to hear it from his own lips. He hesitated a moment, so I grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up to a sitting position. "Tell me," I said again.

"It's Dennis Dogmill that wants it," he said.

"Why?"

"I don't ask such things. I just do what he tells me."