Chapter XII: A Benevolent Stranger

Having written to Mr. Vanderseld of Hamburg, there was nothing, pending the reception of his reply, for even Mr. Townshend to do beyond his favourite occupation of keeping his eyes open. We advertised, however, in the "Morning Chronicle" (a print that at that time was far from looking forward, to death from want of circulation, and the having its eyes closed by a penny piece), in the "Times," and in the "Sun," and offered a reward of one hundred guineas for tidings of the missing baronet; nor, in spite of the Bow Street Runner's depreciating remarks upon this point, were our efforts in that direction wholly thrown away. A full description of Sir Massingberd had appeared in the above newspapers for ten successive days, and on the eleventh, the following information came of it. We were all breakfasting in Harley Street, Mr. Long having come up from Fairburn the previous day, when the butler informed us that there was a man waiting in the hall, who wished to see "H.G.," who had put a certain advertisement into the "Sun" newspaper. "Show him in here at once, George," quoth Mr. Gerard, rubbing his hands. "How pleased I shall be if we learn what we wish to know, after all, without any help from Bow Street. I beg you will take a chair, sir." These last words were addressed to a very respectable-looking person, whom the servant had ushered in, and who bowed to us in a very decorous and unassuming fashion. He was attired in half-mourning, and carried a little black leather bag and an umbrella--the latter a less common companion in these days than a cane is now--as though he had just come off a journey.

"I have called, gentlemen," said he, "simply in consequence of seeing a notice respecting the disappearance of a certain individual of whose whereabouts I am in a position to inform you."

"Is Sir Massingberd Heath alive, sir?" gasped Marmaduke.

"Heaven be praised, he _is_, sir," responded the stranger, fervently.

"Umph," ejaculated Mr. Gerard, with less piety.

Mr. Long coughed behind his fingers, but otherwise kept a discreet silence.

"You know him, do you, sir?" inquired our host.

"I know him well enough by sight, if, at least, your advertised description of his personal appearance is accurate," resumed our visitor. "His height, his beard, the curious indentation upon his forehead, are all characteristic of the man whom I saw last night, and whom I have seen every day for weeks. He is living under the name of Daneton, at Nutgall, a village in Cambridgeshire, near which I reside. I have not the slightest doubt whatever of his identity. As for knowing him, except by sight, however, I cannot say that I do. Without meaning offence, or wishing to hurt the feelings of relations, I may observe that his mode of life is scarcely one to make acquaintance with him advantageous. If I may speak without reserve upon the matter, I should state that he drank considerably, to the extent, indeed, the landlord of the inn has informed me, of, at least, a bottle and a half of French brandy _per diem_."

"That _must_ be my uncle," observed Marmaduke, naïvely.

"He is so, sir, without a doubt," continued the stranger. "I do not seek for any pecuniary reward; but having seen your advertisement, I thought it my duty to come up hither, and relieve the feelings of anxious relatives."

Here the door opened, and Mr. Townshend walked in unannounced, as it was his custom to do. Merely nodding to us all, as though he was an inmate of the house, he sat down at the table with his back to the visitor, and helped himself to a roll and butter.

Mr. Gerard explained briefly the stranger's errand to the officer of justice, and then observed, "Are we to understand, then, that you have been so good as to come all the way from Nutgall hither, expressly to give us this information?"

"No, sir," responded the man with frankness; "I should deceive you if I were to say that much. I have business in the City to-day, and arrived so far by coach; I came on hither, merely a few miles beyond my mark; that is all for which you are indebted to me."

"That is a great deal," observed Mr. Long, warmly. "We take it very kindly that you should have done so much."

"I thought it only my duty, sir," replied the visitor, modestly. "The trouble I do not take into account."

"What a pity the gentleman did not think of writing by the post," observed Mr. Townshend, still proceeding with his breakfast; "that would have saved him this long expedition, and us many days of anxiety."

"That is very true," returned the stranger; "but the fact is, one does not always like to answer advertisements in that way. How did I know who 'H.G.' was? I thought also that a personal interview would be more satisfactory. I am a poor man, but I did not grudge the chance of losing an hour or two on an errand of charity."

"You are very good," answered Marmaduke, gloomily.

"And you must, please, permit us," added Mr. Long, taking out his purse, "to at least reimburse you for that loss of time."

"It seems to me," observed Mr. Townshend, speaking with his mouth full, "that this gentleman is about to be rather hardly dealt by. It is true that a guinea, or even half a one, may repay him for his lost time; but if his intelligence respecting Sir Massingberd Heath turns out to be such as he represents it, he will be entitled to the hundred guineas reward."

"I never thought of that," observed Mr. Long, returning his purse to his pocket not without a blush. "I hope, sir, that you will acquit me of any sordid design in what I proposed to do."

"Most certainly, sir," returned the stranger, with animation; "and indeed your views, as you just expressed them, are quite in accordance with my own. I have no wish whatever for the reward in question; to have done my duty is, I hope, a sufficient recompense for me. On the other hand, I cannot well afford to lose these two or three hours which have been expended in your service. A couple of guineas would quite repay me for this, and even leave the obligation upon my side."

There was a silence for a little, during which Mr. Long gazed inquiringly at Mr. Gerard, and he, in his turn, looked towards Mr. Townshend; then, as though the back of that gentleman's head had been cognizant that counsel was demanded of it, the Bow Street runner spoke as follows:

"It would be nothing less than a fraud, in my opinion, if this good gentleman's generosity is taken advantage of in the way he suggests. If the management of this business is to be in my hands, I should say let us behave with rectitude at least, if not with liberality. The hundred guineas are fairly his, if he is correct in what he has told us; whereas, if he is _not_ correct--since no mistake can have occurred in the matter, by his own showing--why, this is merely an attempt to extort money under false pretences."

"Really, Mr. Townshend," cried my tutor, starting to his feet, "I think your profession of thief-catching makes you very unscrupulous in your imputations."

For my own part, I felt excessively indignant too; and so, I think, would Marmaduke have done, had he not been preoccupied with his own thoughts. Lucy blushed, and cast down her eyes. Her father quietly observed, "Mr. Townshend may have been somewhat plain-spoken, but what he has said is common sense. If you will be good enough to leave your address at Nutgall with us, sir, we shall communicate with you as soon as we have convinced ourselves of the truth of your suspicions; and then we shall not only have compensation but apologies to offer you."

"Very good, sir," rejoined the visitor coolly. "My address is upon that card. If I had known the sort of reception that awaited me here, I should not perhaps have been so anxious to do my duty. Gentlemen, I wish you good-day. I am sorry to have interrupted your repast."

"Don't mention it, my good sir," observed the Bow Street runner, as he disposed of his third slice of ham. "I have treated you as no stranger, I assure you."

To this sarcasm the visitor made no reply, but bowing to the rest of the company, was about to withdraw with polite severity, when Mr. Long stepped forward, and took him by the hand. "I believe you are a kindly-hearted man," cried he, "who has been grievously wronged by those whom you have attempted to benefit; but in any case, it cannot do you any harm to have shaken hands with an honest man, and one who is a humble minister of the gospel."

I could have jumped up and shaken hands with the stranger also, but a false shame prevented me. I thought that Townshend was only waiting for the poor fellow to go to become contemptuously cynical upon those who had shown any belief in him. The Bow Street runner, however, said never a word, but proceeded with his interminable breakfast.

Mr. Long was speechless with indignation. I saw Lucy Gerard cast an approving glance at my excellent tutor, and then an imploring one towards her father, who was biting his lips, as if to restrain his laughter.

At last, the rector broke silence. "I gather from what you have stated, Mr. Townshend, that you will scarcely consider it worth while to go down to Nutgall, or make any further inquiry into the circumstances of which you have just heard."

"It will certainly not be worth _my_ while," returned the Bow Street runner curtly.

"Then I shall go down into Cambridgeshire myself," observed my tutor.

"Very good, sir. If time were less valuable to me, it would give me a great deal of pleasure to accompany you."

"My dear Peter," remarked my tutor, taking no notice of this wicked banter, "what do you say to coming with me?"

Even if I had been less disposed to do this than I was, I should still have readily consented to be the rector's travelling companion, for to refuse would have been to declare myself upon the enemy's side.

Accordingly, we set off upon this amateur detective expedition that very day; and on the following evening returned to Harley Street, having possessed ourselves of this important information: That benevolence is sometimes assumed for the base purpose of making a few shillings, and that advertisements are occasionally taken advantage of to the confusion of those who insert them. There was really a village called Nutgall; that was the one fact that the respectable person in half-mourning had brought along with his black leather bag and silk umbrella. There was not a public-house in the place where Sir Massingberd could have procured that bottle and a half of French brandy, had he been ever so disposed to dissipation, or even where we ourselves could get bread and cheese.

I verily believe, at the time of his disenchantment, my revered tutor would rather that the baronet had been really at Nutgall, and in the humour and condition to wage implacable war against poor Marmaduke, than have given such an opportunity of triumph to the man of Bow Street.