The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century
"Pre-cisely. Be so good as to hand me my snuff-box. And my cane. Thank
you. I feel the time has now come for me to put in an appearance. Pray,
bear in mind that I am new come from France and journey by easy stages
to London. And cultivate a stupid expression. Yes, that will do
excellently."
Jim grinned delightedly; he had assumed no expression of stupidity, and
was consequently much pleased with this pleasantry. He swung open the
door with an air, and watched "Sir Anthony" mince along the passage to
the stairs.
In the coffee-room the city merchant, Mr. Fudby by name, was relating
the story of his wrongs, with many an impressive pause, and much
emphasis, to the mayor, town-clerk, and beadle of Lewes. All three had
been fetched by Mr. Chilter, his clerk, in obedience to his orders, for
the bigger the audience the better pleased was Mr. Fudby. He was now
enjoying himself quite considerably, despite the loss of his precious
cash-box.
So was not Mr. Hedges, the mayor. He was a fussy little man who suffered
from dyspepsia; he was not interested in the affair, and he did not see
what was to be done for Mr. Fudby. Further, he had been haled from his
dinner, and he was hungry; and, above all, he found Mr. Fudby very
unattractive. Still, a highroad robbery was serious matter enough, and
some course of action must be thought out; so he listened to the story
with an assumption of interest, looking exceedingly wise, and, at the
proper moments, uttering sounds betokening concern.
The more he saw and heard of Mr. Fudby, the less he liked him. Neither
did the town-clerk care for him. There was that about Mr. Fudby that did
not endear him to his fellow-men, especially when they chanced to be his
inferiors in the social scale. The beadle did not think much about
anything. Having decided (and rightly) that the affair had nothing
whatever to do with him, he leaned back in his chair and stared stolidly
up at the ceiling.
The tale Mr. Fudby was telling bore surprisingly little resemblance to
the truth. It was a much embellished version, in which he himself had
behaved with quite remarkable gallantry. It had been gradually concocted
during the journey to Lewes.
He was still holding forth when my lord entered the room. Carstares
raised his glass languidly to survey the assembled company, bowed
slightly, and walked over to the fire. He seated himself in an armchair
and took no further notice of anybody.
Mr. Hedges had recognised at a glance that here was some _grand
seigneur_ and wished that Mr. Fudby would not speak in so loud a voice.
But that individual, delighted at having a new auditor, continued his
tale with much relish and in a still louder tone.
My lord yawned delicately and took a pinch of snuff.
"Yes, yes," fussed Mr. Hedges. "But, short of sending to London for the
Runners, I do not see what I can do. If I send to London, it must, of
course, be at your expense, sir."
Mr. Fudby bristled.
"At _my_ expense, sir? Do ye say at _my_ expense? I am surprised! I
repeat--I am surprised!"
"Indeed, sir? I can order the town-crier out, describing the horse,
and--er--offering a reward for the capture of any man on such an
animal. But--" he shrugged and looked across at the town-clerk--"I do
not imagine that 'twould be of much use--eh, Mr. Brand?"
The clerk pursed his lips and spread out his hands.
"I fear not; I very much fear not. I would advise Mr. Fudby to have a
proclamation posted up round the country." He sat back with the air of
one who has contributed his share to the work, and does not intend to
offer any more help.
"Ho!" growled Mr. Fudby. He blew out his cheeks. "'Twill be a grievous
expense, though I suppose it must be done, and I cannot but feel that if
it had not been for your deplorably cowardly conduct, Chilter--yes,
cowardly conduct, I say--I might never have been robbed of my two
hundred!" He snuffled a little, and eyed the flushed but silent Chilter
with mingled reproach and scorn. "However, my coachman assures me he
could swear to the horse again, although he cannot remember much about
the man himself. Chilter! How did he describe the horse?"
"Oh--er--chestnut, Mr. Fudby--chestnut, with a half-moon of white on its
forehead, and one white foreleg."
Jack perceived that it was time he took a hand in the game. He half
turned in his chair and levelled his quizzing-glass at Mr. Chilter.
"I beg your pardon?" he drawled.
Mr. Fudby's eye brightened. The fine gentleman was roused to an
expression of interest at last. He launched forth into his story once
more for my lord's benefit. Carstares eyed him coldly, seeing which, Mr.
Hedges came hurriedly to the rescue.
"Er--yes, Mr. Fudby--quite so! Your pardon, sir, I have not the honour
of knowing your name?"
"Ferndale," supplied Jack, "Sir Anthony Ferndale."
"Er--yes--" Mr. Hedges bowed. "Pray pardon my importuning you with
our--"
"Not at all," said my lord.
"No--quite so--The fact is, these--er--gentlemen have had
the--er--misfortune to be waylaid on their journey here."
Sir Anthony's glass was again levelled at the group. His expression
betokened mild surprise.
"_All_ these gentlemen?" he inquired blandly. "Dear, dear!"
"Oh, no, no, no, sir! Not all--Only Mr.--er--"
"Fudby," said that worthy, and discovered that Sir Anthony was bowing
frigidly. At once he rose, and resting his knuckles on the table before
him, bent his body slowly and painfully. Sir Anthony inclined his head.
Whereupon, to the delight of all the rest, Mr. Fudby bowed again with
even greater stateliness than before. Mr. Hedges observed Sir Anthony's
lips to twitch convulsively. He waited for Mr. Fudby to subside, and
then continued:
"Yes--Mr. Fudby and Mr.--"
"My clerk!" snapped Fudby.
Sir Anthony favoured Mr. Chilter with his peculiarly sweet smile, and
turned again to Mr. Hedges.
"I see. A _daylight_ robbery, you say?"
"Broad daylight!" boomed Mr. Fudby.
"Er--yes, yes," interposed the mayor, fearing a fresh outbreak from that
quarter. "I wonder if you have seen anything of such an animal as
Mr.--er--Chilter--described?"
"'Tis a most extraordinary thing," said Carstares slowly, "but I have
just bought such an one." He glanced round with an inquiring smile and
one eyebrow lifted.
"Well!" ejaculated Mr. Fudby. "Well!"
"Dear me, sir, what a strange coincidence! May I ask where you bought
it, and from whom?"
"She has not been in my possession over two hours. I bought her from an
out-at-elbows ruffian, on my way hither. I thought at one time that
'twas strange that the man should possess such a mare--pure bred, I
vow--and wondered why he was so eager to be rid of her."
"He was eager because he knew he would be recognised by her," explained
Mr. Fudby kindly.
"Without doubt. Perhaps you would like to see her? I will send my man--"
"Oh no, no!" cried the mayor. "We would not dream of so inconveniencing
you--"
"'Twere a pleasure," bowed Jack, devoutly hoping that Mr. Fudby would
not require to see Jenny, who, he felt sure, would betray him by her
very evident affection.
"No, no, Sir Anthony, 'tis quite unnecessary, I assure you, but I thank
you for all that. Mr. Fudby, if you would describe the man himself, I
will see to the proclamation."
"Describe him, Chilter!" ordered Mr. Fudby, who was becoming rather
grumpy.
Mr. Chilter smiled suddenly.
"Certainly, sir!" he said with alacrity. "'Twas a great ruffianly
fellow, monstrous tall--"
"How tall?" interrupted the town-clerk. "Six feet?"
"Oh, quite!" lied Mr. Chilter. "And fat."
Jack's shoulders shook.
"Fat, you say?" he asked gently.
"Very fat," affirmed Mr. Chilter. "And prodigious rough, swearing
dreadfully in his speech."
"You could not see his face, I suppose?"
Mr. Chilter hesitated.
"I could see his mouth and chin," he said, "and I remarked a long scar
running from his under-lip to the--er--bottom of his face."
Involuntarily Carstares' hand caressed his perfectly smooth chin. Either
the little clerk was a born romancer, or for some reason or other he did
not want the highwayman to be taken.
"Well, Sir Anthony?" the mayor was saying. "Does that description fit
your man?"
My lord frowned thoughtfully.
"Tall," he said slowly, "and fat--you said fat, I think, Mr. Chilter?"
Rather anxiously Mr. Chilter reiterated this statement.
"Ah! And with a long scar--yes, that is undoubtedly he. Furthermore," he
added audaciously, "he has a squint in his left eye. 'Tis a most
ill-favoured rogue in all."
"It would appear so, Sir Anthony," remarked the mayor drily. He did not
in the least believe the story of the squint, and imagined that the fine
court gentleman was amusing himself at their expense. Nevertheless, he
had no intention of remonstrating; the sooner he could withdraw from
this very tiresome affair the better. So he gravely took down all the
absurd particulars, remarked that the man should be easy to find, and
made ready to depart.
The town-clerk rose, and tapped the beadle on the shoulder, whereupon
that worthy, with a grunt, abandoned his pose of masterly inactivity and
followed the mayor out of the room.
Mr. Fudby rose.
"I doubt I shall never see my money again," he said pettishly. "If you,
Chilter had not been so--"
"Allow me to offer you some snuff, Mr. Chilter," interposed my lord
gently, extending his jewelled box. "Doubtless, sir, you would wish to
see my mare?"
"I know nought of horses," snorted Mr. Fudby. "'Tis my clerk who appears
to have remarked all the details." He sneered terrifically.
"Then pray, do me the honour of walking as far as the stables, Mr.
Chilter. 'Twere as well to be certain about the mare. Mr.-ah--Fudby,
your servant."
* * * * *
"And now, Mr. Chilter, I have a grudge against you," said Carstares, as
they walked across the little garden.
"Me, sir? Oh--er--have you, Sir Anthony?"
He looked up and perceived that the gentleman was laughing.
"Yes, Mr. Chilter, a very serious grudge: you have described me as fat!"
Chilter nearly fainted.
"_You_, sir," he gasped, and stared in amazement.
"Also that I swear dreadfully in my speech, and that I have a scar
running from my mouth to my chin."
Mr. Chilter stood stock-still in the middle of the path.
"It was you, sir, all the time? _You_ held us up? Were _you_ the man who
wrenched open the door?"
"I was that infamous scoundrel. I beg leave once more to apologise for
my carelessness in opening that same door. Now tell me, why did you
take such pains to throw dust in their sleepy eyes?"
They resumed their walk slowly. The little clerk flushed.
"I scarce know, sir, save that I--that I liked you, and--and--"
"I see. 'Twas prodigious good of you, Mr. Chilter. I wonder if there is
anything that I can do to show my gratitude?"
Again the clerk flushed and lifted his head proudly.
"I thank you, sir, but there is nought."
By now they had reached the stable. Carstares opened the door and they
entered.
"Then will you accept this in token of my regard, sir?"
Mr. Chilter gazed at the emerald ring that glowed and winked at him from
the palm of my lord's hand. He looked up into the blue eyes and
stammered a little.
"Indeed, sir--I--I--"
"'Tis honestly come by!" pleadingly. "Come, Mr. Chilter, you'll not hurt
my feelings by refusing? You will keep it in remembrance of a man--a fat
man, Mr. Chilter--who rudely jerked you on to the road?"
The clerk took it with unsteady fingers.
"I thank you most--"
"Nay, I beg of you. 'Tis I thank you for aiding me so kindly.... Come
and see my Jenny! Well, lass?" For the mare at the first sound of his
voice had turned in her loose-box, and was whinnying and pawing the
ground eagerly.