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Forester, who forgot all his own melancholy reflections as soon as he could a.s.sist any one who was in distress, bade the poor woman dry her tears, and a.s.sured her that she had nothing to fear; for he would instantly go to Dr. Campbell, and get him to speak to Mackenzie. “If it is necessary,” said he, “I’ll pay the money myself.” She clasped her hands joyfully as he spoke, and all her children joined in an exclamation of delight. “I’ll go to Dr. Campbell’s this instant,” said our hero, whose pride now yielded to the desire of doing justice to this injured woman; he totally forgot himself, and thought only of her: “I’ll go to Dr. Campbell’s, and I will speak to Mr. Mackenzie immediately.”
A SUMMONS
Whilst Forester was walking through the streets, with that energy which the hope of serving his fellow-creatures always excited in his generous mind, he even forgot a scheme which he had, in spite of his Stoical pride and his dread of being thought to give up his opinions from meanness, resolved in his imagination. He had formed the design of returning to his friends an altered being in his external appearance: he had ordered a fashionable suit of clothes, which were now ready. He had laid aside the dress and manners of a gentleman from the opinion that they were degrading to the character of a man: as soon as this prejudice had been conquered, he began to think he might resume them. Many were the pleasing antic.i.p.ations in which he indulged himself: the looks of each of his friends, the generous approving eye of Henry, the benevolent countenance of Dr. Campbell, the arch smile of Flora, were all painted by his fancy; and lie invented every circ.u.mstance that was likely to happen–every word that would probably be said by each individual. We are sure that our readers will give our enthusiastic hero credit for his forgetting these pleasing reveries–for his forgetting himself, nay, even Flora Campbell–when humanity and justice called upon him for exertion.
When he found himself in George’s-square, within sight of Dr. Campbell’s house, his heart beat violently, and he suddenly stopped to recollect himself. He had scarcely stood a few instants, when a hard, stout-looking man came up to him, and asked him if his name were Forester: he started, and answered, “Yes, sir, what is your business with me?” The stranger replied by producing a paper, and desiring him to read it. The paper, which was half printed, half written, began with these words:–“You are hereby required to appear before me–“
“What is all this?” exclaimed our hero. “It is a summons,” replied the stranger: “I am a constable, and you will please to come with me before Mr. W—-. This is not the first time you have been before him, I am told.” To this last insolent taunt Forester made no reply, but in a firm tone said that he was conscious of no crime, but that he was ready to follow the constable, and to appear before Mr. W—-, or any other magistrate, who wished to inquire into his conduct. Though he summoned all his fort.i.tude, and spoke with composure, he was much astonished by this proceeding; he could not help reflecting, that an individual in society who has friends, an established character, and a _home_, is in a more desirable situation than an unconnected being, who has no one to answer for his conduct,–no one to rejoice in his success, or to sympathize in his misfortunes. “Ah, Dr. Campbell! happy father! in the midst of your own family, you have forgotten your imprudent ward!” said Forester to himself, while his mind revolted from seeking his friend’s a.s.sistance in this discreditable situation. “You do not know how near he is to you! you do not know that he was just returning to you! you do not see that he is, at this moment, perhaps, on the brink of disgrace!”
THE BANK-NOTES.
Forester was mistaken in his idea that Dr. Campbell had forgotten him; but we shall not yet explain further upon this subject; we only throw out this hint, that our readers may not totally change their good opinion of the doctor. We must now beg their attention to the continuation of the history of Archibald Mackenzie’s bank-note.
Lady Catherine Mackenzie one day observed that the colours were changed in one spot on the right-hand pocket of her son’s waistcoat. “My dear Archibald,” said she, “what has happened to your smart waistcoat? What is that terrible spot?” “Really, ma’am, I don’t know,” said Archibald, with his usual soft voice and deceitful smile. Henry Campbell observed that it seemed as if the colours had been discharged by some acid. “Did you wear that waistcoat, Mr. Mackenzie,” said he, “the night the large bottle of vitriolic acid was broken–the night that poor Forester’s cat was killed: don’t you remember?” “Oh, I did not at first recollect; I cannot possibly remember, indeed,–it is so long ago,–what waistcoat I wore on that particular night.” The extreme embarra.s.sment in Archibald’s manner surprised Henry. “I really don’t perceive your _drift_,”
continued Mackenzie: “what made you ask the question so earnestly?” He was relieved when Henry answered, that he only wished to know whether it was probable that it was stained with vitriolic acid; “because,”
said he, “I think _that_ is the pocket in which you said you left your ten-guinea note; then, perhaps, the note may have been stained.”
“Perhaps so,” replied Mackenzie dryly. “And if it were, you could identify the note: you have forgotten the number; but if the note has been stained with vitriolic acid, we should certainly be able to know it again: the acid would have changed the colour of the ink.” Mackenzie eagerly seized this idea; and immediately, in pursuance of Henry’s advice, went to several of the princ.i.p.al bankers in Edinburgh, and requested that if a note, stained in such a manner, should be presented to them, they would stop payment of it till Mackenzie should examine it.
Some time elapsed, and nothing was heard of the note. Mackenzie gave up all hopes of recovering it; and in proportion as these hopes diminished, his old desire of making the poor washerwoman answerable for his loss increased. We have just heard this woman’s account of his behaviour to her, when he came into her house to be refitted, after his tumble from Sawney into the scavenger’s cart. All his promises to Henry he thought proper to disregard: promises appeared to him mere matters of convenience; and the idea of “_taking in_” such a young man as Henry Campbell was to him an excellent joke. He resolved to keep the five guineas quietly which Henry lent him; and, at the same time, to frighten this innocent industrious woman into paying him the value of his bank-note.
Upon Mackenzie’s return to Dr. Campbell’s, after his fall from Sawney, the first thing he heard was that his note was found; that it had been stopped at the bank of Scotland; and that one of the clerks of the bank, who brought it for his examination, had been some time waiting for his return from riding. When the note was produced, Henry saw that two or three of the words which had been written in ink, the name of the person to whom it was payable, and the date of the month and year, were so pale as to be scarcely visible; and that there was a round hole through one corner of the paper. This round hole puzzled Henry, but he had no doubt that the ink had been thus nearly obliterated by vitriolic acid. He poured a few drops, diluted with water, upon some printing, and the ink was quickly turned to nearly the same pale colour as that in Mackenzie’s note. The note was easily traced, as it had not pa.s.sed through many hands–our readers will be sorry to hear it–to M. Pasgrave, the dancing-master. Mackenzie and the clerk went directly to his house, found him at home, and without much preface, informed him of their business. The dancing-master trembled from head to foot, and, though innocent, exhibited all the signs of guilt; he had not the slightest knowledge of business, and the manner and language of the banker’s clerk who accompanied Mackenzie terrified him beyond measure, because he did not comprehend one word in ten that he said about checks, entries, and day-books; and he was nearly a quarter of an hour before he could recover sufficient presence of mind to consider from whom he received the note. At length, after going over, in an unintelligible manner, all the puzzled accounts of monies received and paid which he kept in his head, he declared that he clearly recollected to have received the ten-guinea note at Mr. Macpherson’s, the tailor; that he went a few weeks ago to settle his year’s account with him; and that in change for a twenty-pound note, he received that which the banker’s clerk now produced. To Mackenzie it was perfectly indifferent who was found guilty, so that he could recover his money. “Settle it as you will amongst you,” said he, “the money must be refunded, or I must have you all before a magistrate directly.” Pasgrave, in great perturbation, set out for Mr. Macpherson’s, showed him the note, and reminded him of the day when he paid his account. “If you received the note from us, sir,”
said the master-tailor, very calmly, “it must be entered in our books, for we keep regular accounts.” The tailor’s foreman, who knew much more of the affair than his master, appealed, with a.s.sumed security, to the entry in the books. By this entry it appeared that M. Pasgrave settled his account the 17th of October; that he paid the balance by a twenty-pound note, and that he received in change a ten-guinea note on Sir William Forbes’s bank. “You see, sir,” said the tailor, “this cannot possibly be Mr. Mackenzie’s; for his note is on the bank of Scotland.
Our entry is as full as possible; and I am ready to produce my books, and to abide by them, in any court of justice in the world.” M. Pasgrave was totally at a loss; he could only repeat, that he remembered to have received Mackenzie’s note from one of the tailor’s men, who brought it to him from an inner room. The foreman boldly a.s.serted, that he brought the change exactly as his master gave it to him, and that he knew nothing more of the matter. But, in fact, he knew a great deal more: he had found the note in the pocket of Mackenzie’s waistcoat, which his servant had left to be mended, after he had torn it furtively, as has been already related. When his master called him into the inner room, to give him the change for Pasgrave, he observed that there was a ten-guinea note wrapped up with some halfpence; and he thought that it would be a prudent thing to subst.i.tute Mackenzie’s note, which he had by him, in the place of this. He accordingly gave Pasgrave Mackenzie’s note, and thrust the note which he had received from his master into a corner of his trunk, where he usually kept little windfalls, that came to him by the negligence of customers–toothpick-cases, loose silver, odd gloves, &c., all which he knew how to dispose of. But this bank-note was a higher prize than usual, and he was afraid to pa.s.s it till all inquiry had blown over. He knew his master’s regularity; and he thought that if the note was stopped afterwards at any of the banks, it could never be traced further than to M. Pasgrave. He was rejoiced to see that this poor man was in such trepidation of mind that he could not, in the least, use his understanding; and he saw, with much satisfaction, that his master, who was a positive man, and proud of the accuracy of his books, was growing red in the face in their defence. Mackenzie, in the meantime, who had switched his boots with great impatience during their debate, interfered at last with, “Come, gentlemen, we can’t stand here all day to hear you give one another the lie. One of you, it’s plain, must sh.e.l.l out your corianders; but, as you can’t settle which, we must put you to your oath, I see.” “Mr. W—-‘s is not far off, and I am ready to go before him with my books this instant,” said the fiery master-tailor. “My books were never called in question since I was in trade till this instant; and n.o.body but a French dancing-master, who understands no more of debtor and creditor than my goose, would stand out against such an entry as this.” To Mr. W—-‘s the tailor, his foreman, the dancing-master, the banker’s clerk, and Mackenzie, repaired. Pasgrave turned paler than ever dancer turned before; and gave himself, his character, and his wife and children, all up for lost, when he heard that he was to be put upon his oath. He drew back when Mr.
W—- held the book to him, and demanded whether he would swear to the person from whom he received the note. He said he could not swear; but to the best of his belief–en conscience–en honneur–foi d’honnete homme–he was convinced he received it from Mr. Macpherson’s foreman.
The foreman, who, from one step in villany, found himself hurried on to another and another, now scrupled not to declare that he was ready to take his oath that he delivered the note and change, just as his master gave it to him, to M. Pasgrave. The magistrate turned to the paler, conscientious, incapacitated dancing-master, and in a severe tone said–“Appearances are strangely against you, M. Pasgrave. Here’s a young gentleman has lost a bank-note–it is stopped at the bank of Scotland–it is traced home to you–you say you got it from Mr.
Macpherson or his foreman–his books are produced–the entry in them is clearly against you; for it states that the note given to you in change was one of Sir William Forbes’s bank; and this which I hold now in my hand is of the Bank of Scotland. Please now to tell how this note of the Bank of Scotland, which has been proved to be the property of Mr.
Mackenzie, came into your possession? From whom did you receive it? or how did you come by it? I am not surprised that you decline taking an oath upon this occasion.” “Ah, monsieur, ayez pitie de moi!” cried the innocent, but terrified man, throwing himself upon one knee, in an att.i.tude, which, on the stage, would have produced a sublime effect–“Ah, monsieur, ayez pitie de moi! I have no more dan de child no sense in affairs.” Mackenzie interrupted him with a brutal laugh. The more humane banker’s clerk was moved by the simplicity of this avowed ignorance of business. He went up to the distracted dancer, and said, “It is not to be expected that every body should understand business as _we_ do, sir: if you are innocent, only give yourself time to recollect; and though it’s unfortunate that you never keep any regular accounts, maybe we shall be able to make out this affair of the entry. If Mr.
W—- will give me leave to take this pen and ink, and if you will try to recollect all the persons from whom you have received money lately–“
“Ah, mon Dieu! dat is impossible.” Then he began to name the quarterly and half-yearly payments that he had received from his various pupils.
“Did any of them lately give you a ten-guinea note?” “Ah, oui, je me rappelle–un jeune monsieur–un certain monsieur, qui ne veut pas que–qui est la incognito–who I would not betray for the world; for he has behave wid de most parfaite generosite to me.” “But did he give you a ten-guinea bank-note? that is all we want to know,” said the magistrate. “Mais–oui–yes.” “About what time?” said the clerk. It was about the beginning of October: and this was so near the time when he settled accounts with Mr. Macpherson, the tailor, that he even himself began to believe it possible that he had mistaken one note for the other. “When the young gentleman gave you the note,” said the banker’s clerk, “surely you must have looked at it–you must have observed these remarkable stains?” Pasgrave replied, that he did look at it, he supposed; that he saw it was a ten-guinea note; it might be stained, it might not be stained; he could not pretend to be certain about it. He repeated his a.s.surances that he was ignorant of business, and of every thing in this world but dancing. “Pour la danse, je m’y connois–pour les affaires, je n’en sais rien, moi.” He, with his usual simplicity, added, that if Mr. W—- would give him leave, he would go to the young gentleman, his friend, and learn from him exactly the number of the note which he had given him; that he was sure he could recollect his own note immediately. Mackenzie, who thought that this was merely pretence, in order to escape, told him that he could not be suffered to go out upon his parole. “But,” said Mr. W—-, “tell us the name of this young gentleman who has so much generosity, and who lives incognito. I don’t like gentlemen who live incognito. I think I had a young man here before me, about two months ago, charged with breaking a confectioner’s windows in a riot, the night of the great illuminations–Hey? don’t I remember some such thing? And you, M. Pasgrave, if I mistake not, interested yourself mightily about this young man, and told me and my daughters, sir, that he was a young gentleman incognito. I begin to see through this affair. Perhaps I this is the same young gentleman from whom you received the I note. And pray what value did you give for it?” Pasgrave, whose fear of betraying Forester now increased his confusion, stammered, and first said the note was a present, but afterwards added, “I have been giving de young person lessons in dancing for des six week.”
“Well, then, we must summon this young person,” said Mr. W—-. “Tell us his name, if you please,” said Mackenzie; “I have some suspicion that I know your gentleman incognito.” “You need not trouble him,” said the magistrate; “I know the name already, and I know where the bird is to be found: his name, if he has not changed it since he was last in this room, is Forester.” “Forester!” exclaimed Mackenzie; “I thought so! I always thought how he would turn out. I wonder what his friends, the Campbells, will have to say for him now!”
Mr. W—-‘s pen stopped. “His friends, the Campbells–humph! So the Campbells are his friends, are they?” repeated he. “They _were_ his friends,” answered Mackenzie; “but Mr. Forester thought proper, n.o.body knows why, to run away from them, some months ago; the only reason I could ever learn was that he did not like to live amongst gentlemen: and he has been living ever since incognito, amongst blackguards, and we see the fruits of it.” Mackenzie eagerly handed the summons, as soon as it was signed, to a constable; and Mr. W—- directed the constable to Mr.
—-‘s, the bookseller, adding, “Book-sellers and printers are dangerous persons.” The constable, who had seen Forester the night that he was confined with Tom Random, knew his face and person; and we have told our readers that he met Forester in George’s-square, going to Dr.
Campbell’s, to vindicate the innocence of the poor washerwoman.
The tailor’s foreman was not a little alarmed when the summons was sent for our hero; he dreaded that the voice of truth should be heard, and he skulked behind the rest of the company. What astonishment did Forester feel when he entered the room, and saw the group that surrounded the justice’s table!–Archibald Mackenzie, with an insulting sneer on his lips–Pasgrave, with eyes fixed upon him in despair–Mr. Macpherson, the tailor, pointing to an entry in his book–his foreman shrinking from notice–the banker’s clerk, with benevolent scepticism in his countenance–and the justice, with a portentous scowl upon his brow.
“Come forward, Mr. Forester,” said the magistrate, as our hero made a sudden pause of astonishment; “come forward, sir!” Forester advanced with calm intrepidity. “You are better dressed than when I had the honour of seeing you here some time ago, sir. Are you a printer still, or a gentleman? Your dress certainly bespeaks a change in your condition.” “I am sure I should hardly know Mr. Forester again, he has grown such a beau–comparatively speaking, I mean,” said Mackenzie. “But certainly, M. Pasgrave, you must have made some mistake; I don’t know how to believe my senses! Is this the young gentleman to whom you alluded? do you know him–?” “Give me leave, Mr. Mackenzie,” interrupted the justice: “I shall examine this young incognito myself. I think I know how to come at the truth. Will you do me the favour, sir, to inform me whether you recollect any thing of a ten-guinea bank-note which you gave or paid, some time in last October, to this gentleman?” pointing to M. Pasgrave. “I do,” replied Forester, in a distinct, unembarra.s.sed voice, “perfectly well remember giving M. Pasgrave a ten-guinea bank-note.” “Ah, monsieur, je ne suis pas un ingrat. Ne pensez pas que–” “Oh, M. Pasgrave,” interrupted Mackenzie, “this is no time for compliments and fine speeches: for G.o.d’s sake, let us get to the bottom of this affair without further ceremony!” “Sir,” said the banker’s clerk, “all we want to know is the number of your note, and the firm of the house. Was your note one of Sir William Forbes’s, or of the Bank of Scotland?” Forester was silent. “I do not recollect,” said he, after some pause. “You don’t recollect, sir,” said the justice, “is something like an evasive answer. You must have a vast number of bank-notes then, we must presume, if you cannot recollect to what bank your ten-guinea note belonged.” Forester did not understand this logic; but he simply repeated his a.s.sertion. “Pray, sir,” said the tailor, who could no longer restrain his impatience–“Pray, sir,” said the magistrate, in a solemn manner, “be silent. I shall find out the truth. So, Mr. Forester, you cannot possibly recollect the house of your note? You will tell us next, I dare say, that you cannot possibly recollect how you came by it.” “Sir,” said Forester, “if it is necessary, I can readily tell you how I came by it.” “It is very necessary, sir, for your own credit.” “I received it from Dr. Campbell.” “Dr. Campbell!” repeated the magistrate, changing his tone. “And I have some idea that the doctor gave me a list of the numbers of that and four other notes, with which I fortunately have not parted.” “Some idea means nothing in a court of justice, sir; if you have any such paper, you can do us the favour to produce it.” Now this list was locked up in the trunk, of which the key was dropped into the brewing-vat. Richardson, the clerk, had returned the key to him; but, such is the force of habit, he had not cured himself of the foolish trick of twirling it upon his thumb; and about two months ago he dropped it in one of his walks to Arthur’s Seat. He long searched for it amongst the rocky fragments, but at last gave it up–he little imagined of how much consequence it might be to him. Dr. Campbell had once refused to break open the lock, and he felt very unwilling to apply to him in his present circ.u.mstances. However, he wrote a few lines to Henry Campbell; but, as soon as he had written them, his pride again revolted from the thoughts of supplicating the a.s.sistance of his friend in such a disgraceful situation. “If you don’t choose to write,” said the officious malevolence of Archibald, “I can, however, speak; I’ll desire Dr. Campbell to open your trunk, and search for the paper.” He left the room before Forester could make any further opposition.
“I have answered, I hope, both distinctly and respectfully, all the questions that you have asked me,” said Forester, turning to Mr. W—-.
“I hope you will no longer keep me in the dark. Of what am I suspected?”
“I will tell you, sir,” replied the deliberate, unfeeling magistrate; “you are suspected of having, I will not say _stolen_, but you are more than suspected of having come unfairly by a certain ten-guinea bank-note, which the young gentleman who has just left the room lost a few months ago.” Forester, as this speech was slowly p.r.o.nounced, sat down, folded his arms, and appeared totally insensible–quite unconscious that he was in the presence of a magistrate, or that any human being was observing him. “Ah, mon cher monsieur, pardonnez!” cried Pasgrave, bursting into tears. “N’en parlons plus,” added he, turning to the magistrate. “Je payerai tout ce qu’il faut. I will pay de ten guineas. I will satisfy every body. I cannot never forgive myself if I bring him into any disgrace.” “Disgrace!” exclaimed Forester, starting up, and repeating the word in a tone which made every person in the room, not excepting the phlegmatic magistrate, start and look up to him, with a sudden feeling of inferiority. His ardent eye spoke the language of his soul. No words could express his emotion. The master-tailor dropped his day-book. “Constable–call a constable!” cried the justice.
“Sir, you forget in whose presence you are–you think, I suppose, that your friends, the Campbells, will bear you out. Sir, I would have you to know that all the Campbells in Scotland can’t bail you for a felony.
Sir, philosophers should know these things. If you cannot clear yourself to my entire satisfaction, Mr. Forester, I shall commit you–in one word–to gaol: yes–look as you please, sir–to gaol. And if the doctor and his son, and all his family, come up to bail you, I shall, _meo periculo_, refuse their bail. The law, sir, is no respecter of persons.
So none of your rhodomontades, young gentleman, in my presence; but step into this closet, if you please; and, I advise you, bring your mind into a becoming temperament, whilst I go to dinner. Gentlemen,” continued he to Macpherson and Pasgrave, “you’ll be so good to wait here in this apartment. Constable, look to your prisoner,” pointing to the door of the closet. “John, let me know when Dr. Campbell arrives; and tell them to send up dinner directly,” said the justice to his butler.
Whilst he dines, we must leave the tailor complaining that he was wasting precious time; the foreman in the panic of guilt; and the good-natured dancing-master half distracted betwixt his fears and his ignorance. He looked from time to time through the key-hole of the closet in which Forester was confined, and exclaimed, “Grand Dieu! comme il a l’air n.o.ble a cet instant! Ah! lui coupable! he go to gaol! it is impossible!”
“We shall see how that will be presently,” said the foreman, who had hitherto preserved absolute silence. “I abide by my books,” said the master-tailor; “and I wish Dr. Campbell would make haste. _I have lost a day!_”
In spite of the tailor’s imperial exclamation, he was obliged to wait some time longer. When Mackenzie arrived at Dr. Campbell’s, Henry was not at home: he was gone to the house at the back of the meadows, to prepare some chemical experiments for the next day’s lecture. Mackenzie, however, found Dr. Campbell at home in his study; and, in a soft hypocritical voice, lamented that he was obliged to communicate some disagreeable circ.u.mstances relating to young Mr. Forester. “You do not, I presume, know where that unfortunate, misguided youth is at present–at this moment, I mean.” “I do not know where he is at this moment,” said Dr. Campbell, calmly; “but I know where he has been for some time–at Mr. —-‘s, the bookseller. I have had my eye upon him ever since he left this house. I have traced him from place to place.
Though I have said little about him, Mr. Mackenzie, I have a great regard for my unfortunate ward.” “I am sorry for it, sir,” said Mackenzie: “I fear I must wound your feelings the more deeply.” “What is the matter? pray speak at once,” cried Dr. Campbell, who now forgot all his usual calmness. “Where is Forester?” “He is at this moment before Mr. W—-, the magistrate, sir, charged with–but, I own, I cannot believe him guilty–” “Charged with what? For G.o.d’s sake, speak plainly, Mr. Mackenzie!” “Then, in one word, sir, my lost bank-note is traced home to Mr. Forester. M. Pasgrave says he received it from him.”
“Surely, sir,” said Dr. Campbell, with indignation, “you would not insinuate that Forester has stolen your bank-note?” “I insinuate nothing, doctor,” said Archibald; “but, I fear, the thing is too plainly proved. My bank-note has certain stains, by which it has been identified. All that I know is, that Mr. W—- says he can take no bail; and that he must commit Mr. Forester to gaol, unless he can clear himself. He says, that a few days before he left your house, you paid him his quarterly allowance of fifty guineas, in five ten-guinea bank-notes.” “He says true–I did so,” said Dr. Campbell eagerly. “And he says that you gave them to him wrapped in a piece of paper, on which the numbers of the notes were written.” “I remember it distinctly: I desired him to take care of that paper.” “He is not famous for taking care, you know, sir, of any thing. He says, he believes he threw it into his trunk; but he has lost the key of the trunk, I understand.” “No matter; we can break it open this instant, and search for the paper,”
cried Dr. Campbell, who was now extremely alarmed for his ward.
Mackenzie stood by without offering any a.s.sistance, whilst Dr. Campbell broke open the trunk, and searched it with the greatest anxiety. It was in terrible disorder. The coat and waistcoat which Forester wore at the ball were crammed in at the top; and underneath appeared unfolded linen, books, boots, maps, shoes, cravats, fossils, and heaps of little rumpled bits of paper, in which the fossils had once been contained. Dr.
Campbell opened every one of these. The paper he wanted was not amongst them. He took every thing out of the box, shook and searched all the pockets of the coat, in which Forester used, before his reformation, to keep h.o.a.rds of strange papers. No list of bank-notes appeared. At length, Dr. Campbell espied the white corner of a paper-mark in a volume of Goldsmith’s Animated Nature, He pulled out this mark, and to his great joy, he found it to be the very paper he wanted. “So it’s found, is it?” said Mackenzie, disappointed; whilst Dr. Campbell seized his hat, left every thing upon the floor, and was very near locking the door of the room upon Mackenzie. “Don’t lock me in here, doctor–I am going back with you to Mr. W—-‘s” said Arcibald. “Won’t you stay? dinner’s going up–Mr. W—- was going this dinner when I came away.” Without listening to him, Dr. Campbell just let him out, locked the door, and hurried away to his poor ward.
“I have let things go to far,” said he to himself. “As long as Forester’s credit was not in danger, as long as he was unknown, it was very well; but now his character is at stake; he may pay too dear for his experience.”
“Dr. Campbell,” said the pompous magistrate, who hated philosophers, rising from table as Dr. Campbell entered, “do not speak to me of bailing this ward of yours–it is impossible, sir; I know my duty.” “I am not come to offer bail for my ward,” said Dr. Campbell, “but to prove his innocence.” “We must hope the best,” said Mr. W—-; and, having forced the doctor to pledge him in a b.u.mper of port, “Now I am ready to proceed again to the examination of all parties concerned.”
Dr. Campbell was now shown into the room where Mr. Macpherson, his foreman and Pasgrave, were waiting. “Ah, monsieur, Dieu merci, vous voila!” exclaimed Pasgrave. “You may go,” said Mr. W—- to the constable: “but wait below stairs.” He unlocked the closet-door.
Forester, at the sight of Dr. Campbell, covered his face with his hands; but, an instant afterwards, advanced with intrepidity. “You cannot, I am sure, believe me to be guilty of any meanness, Dr. Campbell,” said he.
“Imprudent I have been, and I suffer for my folly.” “Guilty!” cried Dr. Campbell; “no: I could almost as soon suspect my own son of such an action. But my belief is nothing to the purpose. We must _prove_ your innocence.” “Ah, oui, monsieur–and mine too; for I am innocent, I can a.s.sure you,” cried M. Pasgrave.
“The whole business, sir,” said the banker’s clerk, who had, by this time, returned to hear the termination of the affair–“the whole thing can be settled in two minutes, by a gentleman like you, who understands business. Mr. Forester cannot recollect the number or the firm of a ten-guinea bank-note which he gave to M. Pasgrave. M. Pasgrave cannot recollect either; and he is in doubt whether he received this stained note, which Mr. Mackenzie lost, from Mr. Forester or from Mr. Macpherson, the tailor.” “There can be no doubt about me,” said Macpherson. “Dr. Campbell, will you be so good to look at the entry? I acknowledge, I gave M. Pasgrave a ten-guinea note; but here’s the number of it, 177, of Forbes’s bank. Mr. Mackenzie’s note, you see, is of the bank of Scotland; and the stains upon it are so remarkable, that, if I had ever seen it before, I should certainly remember it. I’ll take my oath I never saw it before.” “Sir,” said Forester eagerly to Dr.
Campbell, “you gave me five ten-guinea notes: here are four of them in this pocket-book; the fifth I gave to M. Pasgrave. Can you tell me the number of that note?” “I can,” said Dr. Campbell, producing the paper which he found in Goldsmith’s Animated Nature. “I had the precaution to write down the numbers of all your notes myself: here they are.”
Forester opened his pocket-book: his four remaining notes were compared, and perfectly agreed with the numbers in the list. The fifth, the number of the note which he gave to Pasgrave, was 1260, of the New Bank. “One of your ten-guinea notes,” said Dr. Campbell to Pasgrave, “you paid into the bank of Scotland; and this gentleman,” pointing to the banker’s clerk, “stopped it this morning. Now you have had another ten-guinea note; what became of that?” Pasgrave, who understood Dr. Campbell’s plain method of questioning him, answered immediately, “I did give the other to my hair-dresser, not long ago, who lives in —- street.” Dr.
Campbell instantly went himself to the hair-dresser, found that he had the note still in his possession, brought him to Mr. W—-‘s, and, when the note was examined, it was found to be 1260 of the New Bank, which exactly corresponded with the entry in the list of notes which Dr.
Campbell had produced.
“Then all is right,” said Dr. Campbell. “Ah, oui!–Ah, non!” exclaimed Pasgrave. “What will become of me?” “Compose yourself, my good sir,”
said Dr. Campbell. “You had but two ten-guinea notes, you are sure of that?” “But two–but two: I will swear but two.” “You are now certain which of these two notes you had from my ward. The other, you say, you received from —-” “From dis gentleman, I will swear,” cried Pasgrave, pulling the tailor’s foreman forwards. “I can swear now I am in no embarras: I am sure I did get de oder note from dis gentleman.” The master-tailor was astonished to see all the pallid marks of guilt in his foreman’s countenance. “Did you change the note that I gave you in the inner room?” said Mr. Macpherson. The foreman, as soon as he could command his voice, denied the charge; and persisted in it that he gave the note and change, which his master wrapped up, exactly as it was, to the dancing-master. Dr. Campbell proposed that the tailor’s shop, and the foreman’s room, should be searched. Mr. W—- sent proper people to Mr. Macpherson’s; and whilst they are searching his house, we may inquire what has become of Henry Campbell.
THE CATASTROPHE.
Henry Campbell, the last time we heard of him, was at the house at the back of the meadows. When he went into the large room to his chemical experiments, the little girl, who was proud of having arranged it neatly, ran on before him, and showed him the places where all his things were put. “The writing and the figures are not rubbed off your slate–there it is, sir,” said she, pointing to a high shelf. “But whose handkerchief is this?” said Henry, taking up a handkerchief which was under the slate. “Gracious! that must be the good gentleman’s handkerchief; he missed it just as he was going out of the house. He thought he had left it at the washerwoman’s, where I met him; and he’s gone back to look for it there. I’ll run with it to the washerwoman’s,–maybe she knows where to find him.” “But you have not told me who he is. Whom do you mean by the good gentleman?” “The good gentleman, sir, that I saw with you at the watchmaker’s, the day that you helped me to carry the great geranium out of my grandmother’s room.”
“Do you mean that Forester has been here?” exclaimed Henry. “I never heard his name, sir; but I mean that the gentleman has been here, whom I call the good gentleman, because it was he who went with me to my cross schoolmistress, to try to persuade her to use me well. She beat me, to be sure, after he was gone, for what he had said; but I’m not the less obliged to him, because he did every thing as he thought for the best.
And so I’ll run with his handkerchief to the woman’s, who will give it safe to him.”
Henry recollected his promise to his father. It required all his power over himself to forbear questioning the child, and endeavouring to find out something more of his friend. He determined to mention the circ.u.mstance to his father, and to Flora, as soon as he returned home.
He was always impatient to tell any thing to his sister that interested himself or his friends; for Flora’s gaiety was not of that unfeeling sort which seeks merely for amus.e.m.e.nt, and which, unmixed with sympathy for others, may divert in a companion, but disgusts in a friend.
Whilst Henry was reflecting upon the manner in which he might most expeditiously arrange his chemical experiments and return home, the little girl came running back, with a face of great distress. As soon as she had breath to speak, she told Henry that when she went to the washerwoman’s with the handkerchief, she was told a sad piece of news; that Mr. Forester had been taken up, and carried before Mr. W—-, the magistrate. “We don’t know what he has done: I’m sure I don’t think he can have done any thing wrong.” Henry no sooner heard these words than he left all his retorts, rushed out of the house, hurried home to his father, and learned from Flora, with great surprise, that his father had already been sent for, and was gone to Mr. W—-‘s. She did not know the circ.u.mstances that Mackenzie related to Dr. Campbell, but she told him that her father seemed much alarmed; that she met him crossing the hall, and that he could not stop to speak to her. Henry proceeded directly to Mr. W—-‘s, and he arrived there just as the people returned from the search of the tailor’s house. His opinion of Forester’s innocence was so strong, that when he entered the room, he instantly walked up to him, and embraced him, with a species of frank confidence in his manner which, to Forester, was more expressive than any thing that he could have said. The whole affair was quickly explained to him; and the people who had been sent to Mr. Macpherson’s now came up-stairs to Mr. W—-, and produced a ten-guinea bank-note, which was found in the foreman’s box. Upon examination, this note was discovered to be the very note which Mr. Macpherson sent with the change to Pasgrave. It was No. 177, of Sir William Forbes’s bank, as mentioned in the circ.u.mstantial entry in the day-book. The joy of the poor dancing-master at this complete proof of his innocence was rapturous and voluble. Secure of the sympathy of Forester, Henry, and Dr. Campbell, he looked at them by turns, whilst he congratulated himself upon this “_eclairciss.e.m.e.nt_,” and a.s.sured the banker’s clerk that he would in future keep accounts. We are impatient to get rid of the guilty foreman: he stood a horrible image of despair.
He was committed to gaol; and was carried away by the constables, without being pitied by any person present. Every body, however, was shocked. Mackenzie broke silence first, by exclaiming, “Well, now, I presume, Mr. W—-, I may take possession of my bank-note again.” He took up all the notes which lay upon the table to search amongst them for his own. “Mine, you know, is stained,” said Archibald. “But it is very singular,” said Henry Campbell, who was looking over his shoulder, “that here are two stained notes. That which was found in the foreman’s box is stained in one corner, exactly as yours was stained, Mr.
Mackenzie.” Macpherson, the tailor, now stooped to examine it. “Is this No. 177, the note that I sent in change, by my foreman, to M. Pasgrave?
I’ll take my oath it was not stained in that manner when I took it out of my desk. It was a new and quite clean note: it must have been stained since.” “And it must have been stained with vitriolic acid,” continued Henry. “Ay, there’s cunning for you,” cried Archibald. “The foreman, I suppose, stained it, that it might not be known again.” “Have you any vitriolic acid in your house?” pursued Henry, addressing himself to the master-tailor. “Not I, indeed, sir; we have nothing to do with such things. They’d be very dangerous to us.” “Pray,” said Henry, “will you give me leave, Mr. W—-, to ask the person who searched the foreman’s box a few questions?” “Certainly sir,” said Mr. W—-; “though, I protest, I cannot see what you are driving at.” Henry inquired what was found in the box with the bank-note. The man who searched it enumerated a variety of things. “None of these,” said Henry, “could have stained the note: are you sure that there was nothing else?” “Nothing in the world; nothing but an old gla.s.s stopper, I believe.” “I wish I could see that stopper,” said Henry. “This note was rolled round it,” said the man: “but I threw it into the box again. I’ll go and fetch it, sir, if you have any curiosity to see it.” “Curiosity to see an old stopper?
No!” cried Archibald Mackenzie, with a forced laugh; “what good would that do us? We have been kept here long enough. I move that we go home to our dinners.” But Dr. Campbell, who saw that Henry had some particular reason for wishing to see this gla.s.s stopper, seconded his son. The man went for it; and when he brought it into the room, Henry Campbell looked at it very carefully, and then decidedly said, fixing his eyes upon Archibald Mackenzie, who in vain struggled to keep his countenance from changing. “This gla.s.s stopper, Mr. Mackenzie, is the stopper of my father’s vitriolic acid bottle, that was broken the night the cat was killed. This stopper has stained both the bank-notes. And it must have been in the pocket of your waistcoat.” “My pocket!”