Madame Flirt
"Pest! Don't remind me of that. It makes me sick when I think how I was
fooled and that you were such an ass as to let her slip."
"Sir, I did my best and but for the spark who had the impudence to
thrust his nose into what didn't concern him, I'd have had her safe. But
I've made amends. I've run her to earth."
"Satan's helped you then. Where is she?"
"At her mother's house in the Old Bailey."
"That's a lie."
"Sir!"
"I tell you it's a lie. Her mother visited me at my chambers yesterday.
She'd got the story pat of Lavinia's running away with me from school
and all the rest of it. The old woman's not much better than Mother
Needham. Faith, she's a shade worse. She agreed to let me have the girl
for fifty guineas. She'd got the chit locked up she said. I went to her
Old Bailey hovel to-day--gad, I've got the smell of the cooked meats and
boiled greens in my nostrils at this minute--and damn it, she said the
girl had run away. And now you tell me she's there."
"I do, sir. With these eyes which I flatter myself don't often mistake
when they rest on a well turned ankle, a trim waist and a pretty face. I
swear I saw her go into the house."
"Ecod, I suppose I must believe you," rejoined Dorrimore sullenly. "But
what do you make of it all? Did the old woman lie?"
"Without a doubt she did. If she's of Mother Needham's tribe she can lie
like truth. Lies are half of the trade and the other half is to squeeze
the cull of as much gold as he can be fooled out of. Can't you see sir,
that her trick is to spring her price? I'll wager her fifty guineas has
swollen to a hundred when next you see her. With traffickers in virgins
the price grows as rapidly as Jonah's gourd."
"Aye, it may be so. Well, what then? Have you got a plan?"
Captain Jeremy Rofflash placed a dirty forefinger by the side of his
nose, slowly closed one eye and a greasy smile widened his thick, red
moist lips.
"Have I a plan, sir? Trust Jeremy Rofflash for that. By God, sir, I'll
swear there's no man in the world readier with a plan when its wanted.
Look ye here, Mr. Dorrimore, I've the whole thing cut and dried in the
hollow of my hand. To come to the point. The old harridan means to
fleece you. _I_ don't. Damme sir, I'm a man of my word. For a hundred
guineas I'll let you into a secret and if I fail I won't ask you for a
stiver. Is that fair or isn't it?"
"I'll swear you're no better than Mother Fenton, but I'd rather deal
with a man than a woman. Done with you for a hundred. Say on."
"It's just this. I was within earshot when the loving pair were in
Paul's Churchyard. They're to meet at Rosamond's Pond to-morrow evening
at seven. Now what's to prevent you being beforehand with the spark? The
park's lonely enough for our purpose and you have but to have your coach
ready and a man or two. A gag whipped over her mouth and we'll have her
inside the coach within a second and not a soul be the wiser."
"Sounds mighty well, faith. But will she come? What of her mother? Will
the woman trust her out of sight?"
"I'll back a wench against her dam for a thousand guineas if she's set
her heart on a man. Odds bodikins, if she comes not you won't lose. _I_
shall and it'll be the devil's own bad luck. No have, no pay. D'ye see
that my young squire?"
Dorrimore could offer no contradiction. All that remained to be
discussed was what would follow supposing fortune favoured them, and
they subsided into a whispered conference which was after a time
interrupted by some of Dorrimore's boon companions, who carried him off
to a wild revelry in the Covent Garden taverns with the last hour at the
"Finish," the tavern of ill-repute on the south side of the market.
Rofflash would have accompanied the party but that a hand was laid on
his arm and a masked lady whispered:--
"One moment, captain, I want you."
He turned. He recognised the speaker by the lower part of her face, the
round, somewhat prominent chin, the imperious mouth with its sensual
lower lip, the bold sweeping contour from the chin to the ear.
"Sally Salisbury--the devil!" he ejaculated.
"Not quite, but a near relative may be," rejoined Sally with a sarcastic
laugh. "Who's the spark you're so thick with?"
"The fool who's mad to get hold of the prettiest wench in town--Lavinia
Fenton."
"That little trollop! I hate the creature. But there's no need to talk
of her. What of the man I paid you to track? Have you found him?"
Rofflash watched her face, what he could see of it, for she had not
unmasked, and noted the slight quiver of the lips and the rise and fall
of her bosom.
"Faith mistress," he chuckled with a drunken leer, "if you're not as
crazy over the beggarly scribbler as my young gallant is over the Fenton
girl who lives in the Old Bailey--at a coffee house, forsooth! Why, to
see the pother you're in one would think the hussy had put your nose out
of joint. Perhaps she has. She's fetching enough."
Sally seized the captain's arm with a vigorous grip that showed the
intensity of her feelings. He winced and muttered an oath.
"S'life," he burst out, "save your nails for the girl who's cut you out
with the scribbler."
"She? You lie. What has he to do with the minx?"
"As much as he need have to start with. Didn't he help her to escape
from Dorrimore's arms when the fool thought he had her safe?"
"What!" screamed Sally, "Was _he_ the man?"
"Aye. I've not yet plucked the crow between him and me for that, but by
gad, I mean to pluck it."
"It won't be by fair means then. You're too much of a coward. See here,
you devil. Lance Vane's mine, and if you dare so much as to lay a finger
on him you will know what _I_ can do. There's but one road for gentry of
your profession--the road to Tyburn--and you'll take it if you cross me.
It'll be as easy as _that_."
She dealt the braggart a blow across the nose and eyes with her closed
fan. The sticks snapped and in a white heat of passion she broke them
again and again and flung the fragments in the discomfited captain's
face.
Her fury and his smarting nose somewhat sobered Rofflash. He knew well
enough that when Sally was in her cups she was capable of any deed of
violence. Years after, indeed, her temper led to her undoing when
inflamed by drink and jealousy she stabbed the Honourable John Finch at
"The Three Tuns" in Chandos Street.
Rofflash hastened to mollify the enraged beauty, and did so effectually
when he suggested a plan by which she could mortify her rival.
Sally heard him almost silently. Jeremy's plan was so much to her taste
that in a measure she was able to control herself, though her arms,
rigid by her sides, and her tightly clenched hands showed that her
nerves were still unstrung.
"You see, mistress, you did me an injustice," growled Rofflash. "I have
worked for you, aye and right well. What do _I_ get for doing it?"
"You shall have all the coin that old miser Mountchance gives me for
your next haul of trinkets. I won't touch a farthing for my trouble."
Rofflash stipulated for money down.
"You won't get a stiver," retorted Sally. "I'm as cleaned out as a
gutted herring. That cheating cat Anastasia bagged every shilling I
had."
Rofflash had no reason to doubt Sally's word. He knew the phenomenal
luck which attended Lady Anastasia's play and he had to be contented
with promises.
Thus they parted.
CHAPTER XVII
"THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF MAKING LOVE"
Rofflash was right. He _had_ seen Lavinia enter the Old Bailey coffee
house. Hannah was sitting up expecting her--she had arranged as much
with Lavinia--and she became terribly uneasy when midnight sounded from
half a dozen church clocks and the girl still absent.
Hannah's bedroom overlooked the Old Bailey and now and again she leaned
out of the window, her eyes towards Ludgate Hill. Lavinia was bound to
come in this direction. Sure enough about half-past twelve Hannah caught
sight of a cloaked figure stealing along in the centre of the roadway.
It was the safest way; the overhanging storeys and the sunk doorways
offered lurking places for ill-conditioned fellows on the scent for
mischief. Hannah indeed caught sight of a man in the deep shadow of the
houses who looked very much as if he were following Lavinia, and she
raced softly down to the shop, opened the door and beckoned the girl to
hasten.
"Merciful Heaven, what a fright you've put me in to be sure," she
whispered, throwing her arms about Lavinia. "Come in you truant. Lord, I
do believe you was born to plague me out of my seven senses. You look
tired to death. What have you been a-doing of? But don't worry to tell
me now. You must eat something first. Why, you're all of a tremble. Was
you frightened of that rascal as was dogging you?"
"Was there one? I didn't know it."
"One? I wonder there wasn't a dozen. A pretty young thing like you to be
in the streets at this ungodly hour. There he is a stopping now and
looking this way. Let him look. He won't see nought."
And Hannah shut to the door with more noise than she intended, much to
Lavinia's alarm lest her mother should be aroused.
"No fear o' that, child. Your mother's had as much gin an' beer as she
can carry. It was as good as I could do to get her up the stairs to her
bedroom. Sure she's mad about your running away out of reach. I've had a
nice time with her. But it 'ud take all the trumpets as blowed down the
walls of Jericho to wake her now."
When the door was securely locked and bolted there was more hugging, and
Hannah's strong arms half led, half carried the girl into the kitchen
where a fire was smouldering which a bellows soon fanned into a blaze.
Eggs and bacon were put on to cook and Lavinia, curled in a roomy chair,
watched the kindly young woman's proceedings with great contentment.
Lavinia told Hannah her story in fragments, saying nothing about
Lancelot Vane. Hannah's mind was a blank as to Pope and Gay and she was
more interested in the encounter with the highwayman. She did not ask
much about Giles, but Lavinia guessed it was a subject dear to her heart
and she did not forget to describe his mother, his cottage, and
everything about them very minutely. Nor did she omit to praise his
respectful civility and his good heart.
"And now all's said and done, Hannah," she cried, "what's to become of
me?"
"Aye, bless your heart, that's the trouble. This morning I put on my
considering cap an' was a-thinking and a-thinking when who should pop
her face in but my cousin Betty Higgins as lives at Hampstead. 'La,
Betty,' I says, 'where have you dropped from?' 'Ah,' says she, 'you may
well say that. I've been a-comin' for goodness knows how long knowin' as
my clothes line was a-gettin' as rotten as rotten could be. Yesterday
the wind caught the sheets and blankets as I'd just hung out an' down
they all plumped on a muddy patch an' had to be dropped in the tub
again. I wasn't a-goin' to have that happen a second time so I've come
up to buy a new line in Long Lane an' some soap at Couplands an' here I
be as large as life.' That put a notion in my head, Lavvy, my dear. I
told her about you and she's promised me a little room as she don't use
much, an' that's where you're going when you've had a sleep."
"Oh, Hannah, how good you are," cried Lavinia between her kisses. "But
Hampstead! Why, that's where all the fashion goes! The Hampstead water
cures everything they say."
"May be," rejoined Hannah dryly. "But there's other things besides as
I'll warrant the quality like better than the well water--nasty stuff it
is. I once drank a glass at Sam's coffee house at Ludgate where it's
brought fresh every morning and it nearly turned my stomach. There's
music an' dancing in the Pump Room and dicing and cards at Mother Huff's