Guy Mannering Part 22

"Aweel, aweel," she said, when she had concluded her examination, "since it's e'en sae, I gie him up, the villain --But oh, we are erring mortals!--I never saw a face I liked better, or a lad that was mair douce and canny--I thought he had been some gentleman under trouble.--But I gie him up, the villain!--to shoot Charles Hazlewood-- and before the young ladies, poor innocent things!--I gie him up.

"So you admit, then, that such a person lodged here the night before this vile business?"

"Troth did he, sir, and a' the house were taen wi' him, he was sic a frank, pleasant young man, It wasna for his spending, I'm sure, for he just had a mutton-chop, and a mug of ale, and maybe a gla.s.s or twa o' wine-and I asked him to drink tea wi' myself, and didna put that into the bill; and he took nae supper, for he said he was defeat [*Exhausted]

wi' travel a' the night afore--I dare say now it had been on some h.e.l.licat errand or other."

"Did you by any chance learn his name?"

"I wot weel did I," said the landlady, now as eager to communicate her evidence as formerly desirous to suppress it. "He tell'd me his name was Brown, and he said it was likely that an auld woman like a gipsy wife might be asking for him--Ay, ay! tell me your company, and I'll tell you wha ye are! Oh, the villain!--Aweel, sir, when he gaed away in the morning, he paid his bill very honestly, and gae something to the chamber-maid, nae doubt, for Grizy has naething frae me, by twa pair o' new shoon ilka year, and maybe a bit compliment at Hansel Monanday--"Here Glossin found it necessary to interfere, and bring the good woman back to the point.

"Ou than, he just said, if there comes such a person to inquire after Mr. Brown, you will say I am gone to look at the skaters on Loch Creeran, as you call it, and I will be back here to dinner--But he never came back--though I expected him sae faithfully, that I gae a look to making the friar's chicken mysell, and to the c.r.a.ppit-heads [*Haddock-heads stuffed] too, and that's what I dinna do for ordinary, Mr. Glossin--But little did I think what skating wark he was gaun about--to shoot Mr. Charles, the innocent lamb!"

Mr. Glossin, having, like a prudent examinator, suffered. his witness, to give. vent to all her surprise and indignation, now began to inquire whether the suspected person had left any property or papers about the inn.

"Troth, he put a parcel--a sma' parcel, under my charge, and he gave me some siller, and desired me to get him half a dozen ruffled sarks, and Peg Pasley's in bands wi' them e'en now--they may serve him to gang up the Lawnmarket I in, the scoundrel!" [*The procession of the criminals to the gallows of old took that direction, moving, as the schoolboy rhyme had it, Up the Lawnmarket, Down the West Bow, Up the lang ladder, And down the little tow.] Mr. Glossin then demanded to see the packet, but here mine hostess demurred.

"She didna ken--she wad not say but justice should take its course but when a thing, was trusted to ane in her way, doubtless they were responsible--but she suld cry in Deacon Bearcliff, and if Mr.

Glossin liked to tak an inventar o' the property, and gie her a receipt before the Deacon--or, what she wad like muckle better, an it could, be scaled up and left in Deacon Bearclift's hands, it wad mak her mind easy--She was for naething but justice on a' sides."

Mrs. Mac-Candlish's natural sagacity and acquired suspicion being inflexible, Glossin sent for Deacon Bearcliff, to speak "anent the villain that had shot Mr. Charles Hazlewood." The Deacon accordingly made his appearance, with his wig awry, owing to the hurry with which, at this summons of the Justice, he had exchanged it for the Kilmarnock cap with which he usually attended his customers. Mrs. MacCandlish then produced the parcel deposited with her by Brown, in which was found the gipsy's purse. On perceiving the value of the miscellaneous contents, Mrs. Mac-Candlish internally congratulated herself upon the precautions she had taken before delivering them up to Glossin, while he, with an appearance of disinterested candour, was the first to propose they should be properly inventoried, and deposited with Deacon Bearcliff, until they should be sent to the Crown Office. "He did not" he observed, "like to be personally responsible for articles which seemed of considerable value, and had doubtless been acquired by the most nefarious practices."

He then examined the paper in which the purse had been wrapt up. It was the back of a letter addressed to V. Brown, Esquire, but the rest of the address was torn away. The landlady,--now as eager to throw light upon the criminal's escape as she had formerly been desirous of withholding it, for the miscellaneous contents of the purse argued strongly to her mind that all was not right,--Mrs.

Mac-Candlish, I say, now gave Glossin to understand, that her postilion and hostler had both seen the stranger upon the ice that day when young Hazlewood was wounded.

Our reader's old acquaintance, Jock Jabos, was first summoned, and admitted frankly that he had seen and conversed upon the ice that morning with a stranger, who, he understood, had lodged at the Gordon Arms the night before.

"What turn did your conversation take?" said Glossin.

"Turn?--ou, we turned nae gate at a', but just keepit straight forward upon the ice like."

"Well, but what did ye speak about?"

"Ou, he just asked questions like ony ither stranger," answered.

the postilion, possessed, as it seemed, with the refractory and uncommunicative spirit which had left his mistress.

"But about what?" said Glossin.

"Ou, just about the folk that was playing at the curling, and about auld Jock Stevenson that was at the c.o.c.k, and about the leddies, and sic like."

"What ladies? and what did he ask about them, Jock?" said the interrogator.

"What leddies? ou, it was Miss Jowlia Mannering and Miss Lucy Bertram, that ye ken fu' weel yourself, Mr. Glossin--they were walking wi' the young Laird of Hazlewood upon the ice."

""And what did you tell him about them?" demanded Glossin.

"Tut, we just said that was Miss Lucy Bertram of Ellangowan, that should ance have had a great estate in the country--and that was Miss Jowlia Mannering, that was to be married to young Hazlewood--See as she was hinging on his arm--we just spoke about our country clashes like--he was a very frank man."

"Well, and what did he say in answer?"

"Ou, he just stared at the young leddies very keen like, and asked if it was for certain that the marriage was to be between Miss Mannering and young Hazlewood--and I answered him that it was for positive and absolute certain, as I had an undoubted right to say sae--for my third cousin Jean Clavers (she's a relation o' your ain, Mr. Glossin, ye wad ken Jean lang syne?), she's sib [*Related] to the housekeeper at Woodbourne, and she's tell'd me mair than ance that there was naething could be mair likely."

"And what did the stranger say when you told him all this?" said Glossin.

"Say?" echoed the postilion, "he said naething at a'--he just stared at them as they walked round the loch upon the ice, as if he could have eaten them, and he never took his ee aff them, or said another word, or gave another glance at the Bonspiel, [*playing match] though there was the finest fun amang the curlers ever was seen--and he turned round and gaed aff the loch by the kirk-stile through Woodbourne fir-plantings, and we saw nae mair o' him."

"Only think," said Mrs. Mac-Candlish, "what a hard heart he maun hae had, to think o' hurting the poor young gentleman in the very presence of the leddy he was to be married to!"

"Oh, Mrs. Mac-Candlish,' said Glossin, "there's been many cases such as that on the record--,doubtless he was seeking revenge where it would be deepest and sweetest."

"G.o.d pity us!" said Deacon Bearcliff, "we're puir frail creatures when left to oursells!--ay, he forgot wha said, 'Vengeance is mine, and I will repay it."'

"Weel, aweel, sirs," said Jabos, whose hard-headed and uncultivated shrewdness seemed sometimes to start the game when others beat the bush--"Weel, weel, ye may be a' mista'en yet--I'll never believe that a man would lay a plan to shoot another wi' his ain gun. Lord help me, I was the keeper's a.s.sistant down at the Isle mysell, and I'll uphaud it, the biggest man in Scotland shouldna take a gun frae me or I had weized the slugs through him, though I'm but sic a little f.e.c.kless [*Spiritless] body, fit for naething but the outside o' a saddle and the fore-end o' a poschay--na, na, nae living man wad venture on that. I'll wad ma best buckskins, and they were new coft [*Bought] at Kirkcudbright fair, it's been a chance job after a'. But if ye hae naething mair to say to me, I am thinking I maun gang and see my beasts fed." And he departed accordingly.

The hostler, who had accompanied him, gave evidence to the same purpose. He and Mrs. MacCandlish were then re-interrogated, whether Brown had no arms with him on that unhappy morning. "None,"

they said, "but an ordinary bit cutla.s.s or hanger by his side."

"Now," said the Deacon, taking Glossin by the b.u.t.ton (for, in considering this intricate subject, he had forgot Glossin's new accession of rank)--"this is but doubtfu' after a', Maister Gilbert--for it was not Sae dooms [*Absolutely] likely that he would go down into battle wi' sic sma' means."

Glossin extricated himself from the Deacon's grasp, and from the discussion, though not with rudeness; for it was his present interest to buy golden opinions from all sorts of people. He inquired the price of tea and sugar, and spoke of providing himself for the year; he gave Mrs. Mac-Candlish directions to have a handsome entertainment in readiness for a party of five friends, whom he intended to invite to dine with him at the Gordon Arms next Sat.u.r.day week; and, lastly, he gave a half-crown to Jock Jabos, whom the hostler had deputed to hold his steed.

"Weel," said the Deacon to Mrs. Mac-Candlish, as he accepted her offer of a gla.s.s of bitters at the bar, "the deil's no sae ill as he's ca'd. It's pleasant to see a gentleman pay the regard to the business o' the county that Mr. Glossin does."

"Ay, 'deed is't, Deacon," answered the landlady and yet I wonder our gentry leave their ain wark to the like o' him. --But as lang as silver's current, Deacon, folk maunna look ower nicely at what king's head's on't."

"I doubt Glossin will prove but shand [*Cant expression for base coin] after a', mistress," said Jabos, as he pa.s.sed through the little lobby beside the bar; "but this is a gude half-crown ony way."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

A man that apprehends death to be no more dreadful but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

Measure for Measure.

Glossin had made careful minutes of the information derived from these examinations. They threw little light upon the story, so far as he understood its purport; but the better informed reader has received, through means of this investigation, an account of Brown's proceedings, between the moment when we left him upon his walk to Kippletringan, the time when, stung, by jealousy, he so rashly and unhappily presented himself before Julia Mannering, and well-nigh brought to a fatal termination the quarrel which his appearance occasioned.

Glossin rode slowly back to Ellangowan, pondering on what he had heard, and more and more convinced that the active and successful prosecution of this mysterious business was an opportunity of ingratiating himself with Hazlewood and Mannering to be on no account neglected. Perhaps, also, he felt his professional acuteness interested in bringing it to a successful close. It was, therefore, with great pleasure that, on his return to his house from Kippletringan, he heard his servants announce hastily, "that Mac-Guffog, the thief-taker, and twa or three concurrents, had a man in hands in the kitchen waiting for his honour."

He instantly jumped from horseback, and hastened into the house.

"Send my clerk here directly; ye'll find him copying the survey of the estate in the little green parlour. Set things to rights in my study, and wheel the great leathem chair up to the writing-table--set a stool for Mr. Scrow. --Scrow (to the clerk, as he entered the presence-chamber), hand down Sir George Mackenzie on Crimes; open it at the section Vis Publica et Privata, and fold down a leaf at the pa.s.sage 'anent the bearing of unlawful weapons.'

Now lend me a hand off with my muckle-coat, and hang it up in the lobby, and bid them bring up the prisoner--I trow I'll sort him-- but stay, first send up Mac-Guffog.--Now, Mac-Guffog, where did ye find this chield?"

Mac-Guffog, a stout bandy-legged fellow, with a neck like a bull, a face like a--firebrand, and a most portentous squint of the left eye, began, after various contortions by way of courtesy to the justice, to tell his story, eking it out by sundry sly nods and knowing winks, which appeared to bespeak an intimate correspondence of ideas between the narrator and his princ.i.p.al auditor. "Your honour sees I went down to yon place that your honour spoke o', that's kept by her that your honour kens o', by the sea-side.-- So, says she, what are you wanting here? Ye'll be come wi' a broom in your pocket frae Ellangowan?--So, says I, deil a broom will come frae there awa, for ye ken, says I, his honour Ellangowan himself in former times--"

"Well, well," said Glossin, "no occasion to be particular, tell the essentials."

"Weel, so we sat niffering [*Bargaining] about some brandy that I said I wanted, till he came in."

"Who?"