The Great Hoggarty Diamond

house.

  But Mrs. Brough was a bad manager; and, instead of carrying matters

  with a high hand, fairly burst into tears before Mrs. Hoggarty, and

  went down on her knees and besought her to save dear John. This at

  once aroused my aunt's suspicions; and instead of lending the

  money, she wrote off to Mr. Smithers instantly to come up to her,

  desired me to give her up the 3,000L. scrip shares that I

  possessed, called me an atrocious cheat and heartless swindler, and

  vowed I had been the cause of her ruin.

  How was Mr. Brough to get the money? I will tell you. Being in

  his room one day, old Gates the Fulham porter came and brought him

  from Mr. Balls, the pawnbroker, a sum of 1,200L. Missus told him,

  he said, to carry the plate to Mr. Balls; and having paid the

  money, old Gates fumbled a great deal in his pockets, and at last

  pulled out a 5L. note, which he said his daughter Jane had just

  sent him from service, and begged Mr. B. would let him have another

  share in the Company. "He was mortal sure it would go right yet.

  And when he heard master crying and cursing as he and missus were

  walking in the shrubbery, and saying that for the want of a few

  pounds--a few shillings--the finest fortune in Europe was to be

  overthrown, why Gates and his woman thought that they should come

  for'ard, to be sure, with all they could, to help the kindest

  master and missus ever was."

  This was the substance of Gates's speech; and Mr. Brough shook his

  hand and--took the 5L. "Gates," said he, "that 5L. note shall be

  the best outlay you ever made in your life!" and I have no doubt it

  was,--but it was in heaven that poor old Gates was to get the

  interest of his little mite.

  Nor was this the only instance. Mrs. Brough's sister, Miss Dough,

  who had been on bad terms with the Director almost ever since he

  had risen to be a great man, came to the office with a power of

  attorney, and said, "John, Isabella has been with me this morning,

  and says you want money, and I have brought you my 4,000L.; it is

  all I have, John, and pray God it may do you good--you and my dear

  sister, who was the best sister in the world to me--till--till a

  little time ago."

  And she laid down the paper: I was called up to witness it, and

  Brough, with tears in his eyes, told me her words; for he could

  trust me, he said. And thus it was that I came to be present at

  Gates's interview with his master, which took place only an hour

  afterwards. Brave Mrs. Brough! how she was working for her

  husband! Good woman, and kind! but YOU had a true heart, and

  merited a better fate! Though wherefore say so? The woman, to

  this day, thinks her husband an angel, and loves him a thousand

  times better for his misfortunes.

  On Saturday, Alderman Pash's solicitor was paid by me across the

  counter, as I said. "Never mind your aunt's money, Titmarsh my

  boy," said Brough: "never mind her having resumed her shares. You

  are a true honest fellow; you have never abused me like that pack

  of curs downstairs, and I'll make your fortune yet!"

  * * *

  The next week, as I was sitting with my wife, with Mr. Smithers,

  and with Mrs. Hoggarty, taking our tea comfortably, a knock was

  heard at the door, and a gentleman desired to speak to me in the

  parlour. It was Mr. Aminadab of Chancery Lane, who arrested me as

  a shareholder of the Independent West Diddlesex Association, at the

  suit of Von Stiltz of Clifford Street, tailor and draper.

  I called down Smithers, and told him for Heaven's sake not to tell

  Mary.

  "Where is Brough?" says Mr. Smithers.

  "Why," says Mr. Aminadab, "he's once more of the firm of Brough and

  Off, sir--he breakfasted at Calais this morning!"

  CHAPTER XI

  IN WHICH IT APPEARS THAT A MAN MAY POSSESS A DIAMOND AND YET BE

  VERY HARD PRESSED FOR A DINNER

  On that fatal Saturday evening, in a hackney-coach, fetched from

  the Foundling, was I taken from my comfortable house and my dear

  little wife; whom Mr. Smithers was left to console as he might. He

  said that I was compelled to take a journey upon business connected

  with the office; and my poor Mary made up a little portmanteau of

  clothes, and tied a comforter round my neck, and bade my companion

  particularly to keep the coach windows shut: which injunction the

  grinning wretch promised to obey. Our journey was not long: it

  was only a shilling fare to Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane, and

  there I was set down.

  The house before which the coach stopped seemed to be only one of

  half-a-dozen in that street which were used for the same purpose.

  No man, be he ever so rich, can pass by those dismal houses, I

  think, without a shudder. The front windows are barred, and on the

  dingy pillar of the door was a shining brass-plate, setting forth

  that "Aminadab, Officer to the Sheriff of Middlesex," lived

  therein. A little red-haired Israelite opened the first door as

  our coach drove up, and received me and my baggage.

  As soon as we entered the door, he barred it, and I found myself in

  the face of another huge door, which was strongly locked; and, at

  last, passing through that, we entered the lobby of the house.

  There is no need to describe it. It is very like ten thousand

  other houses in our dark City of London. There was a dirty passage

  and a dirty stair, and from the passage two dirty doors let into

  two filthy rooms, which had strong bars at the windows, and yet

  withal an air of horrible finery that makes me uncomfortable to

  think of even yet. On the walls hung all sorts of trumpery

  pictures in tawdry frames (how different from those capital

  performances of my cousin Michael Angelo!); on the mantelpiece huge

  French clocks, vases, and candlesticks; on the sideboards, enormous

  trays of Birmingham plated ware: for Mr. Aminadab not only

  arrested those who could not pay money, but lent it to those who

  could; and had already, in the way of trade, sold and bought these

  articles many times over.

  I agreed to take the back-parlour for the night, and while a Hebrew

  damsel was arranging a little dusky sofa-bedstead (woe betide him

  who has to sleep on it!) I was invited into the front parlour,

  where Mr. Aminadab, bidding me take heart, told me I should have a

  dinner for nothing with a party who had just arrived. I did not

  want for dinner, but I was glad not to be alone--not alone, even

  till Gus came; for whom I despatched a messenger to his lodgings

  hard by.

  I found there, in the front parlour, at eight o'clock in the

  evening, four gentlemen, just about to sit down to dinner.

  Surprising! there was Mr. B., a gentleman of fashion, who had only

  within half-an-hour arrived in a post-chaise with his companion,

  Mr. Lock, an officer of Horsham gaol. Mr. B. was arrested in this

  wise:- He was a careless good-humoured gentleman, and had indorsed

  bills to a large amount for a friend; who, a man of high family and

  unquestionable honour, had pledged the latter, along wi
th a number

  of the most solemn oaths, for the payment of the bills in question.

  Having indorsed the notes, young Mr. B., with a proper

  thoughtlessness, forgot all about them, and so, by some chance, did

  the friend whom he obliged; for, instead of being in London with

  the money for the payment of his obligations, this latter gentleman

  was travelling abroad, and never hinted one word to Mr. B. that the

  notes would fall upon him. The young gentleman was at Brighton

  lying sick of a fever; was taken from his bed by a bailiff, and

  carried, on a rainy day, to Horsham gaol; had a relapse of his

  complaint, and when sufficiently recovered, was brought up to

  London to the house of Mr. Aminadab; where I found him--a pale,

  thin, good-humoured, LOST young man: he was lying on a sofa, and

  had given orders for the dinner to which I was invited. The lad's

  face gave one pain to look at; it was impossible not to see that

  his hours were numbered.

  Now Mr. B. has not anything to do with my humble story; but I can't

  help mentioning him, as I saw him. He sent for his lawyer and his

  doctor; the former settled speedily his accounts with the bailiff,

  and the latter arranged all his earthly accounts: for after he

  went from the spunging-house he never recovered from the shock of

  the arrest, and in a few weeks he DIED. And though this

  circumstance took place many years ago, I can't forget it to my

  dying day; and often see the author of Mr. B.'s death,--a

  prosperous gentleman, riding a fine horse in the Park, lounging at

  the window of a club; with many friends, no doubt, and a good

  reputation. I wonder whether the man sleeps easily and eats with a

  good appetite? I wonder whether he has paid Mr. B.'s heirs the sum

  which that gentleman paid, and DIED FOR?

  If Mr. B.'s history has nothing to do with mine, and is only

  inserted here for the sake of a moral, what business have I to

  mention particulars of the dinner to which I was treated by that

  gentleman, in the spunging-house in Cursitor Street? Why, for the

  moral too; and therefore the public must be told of what really and

  truly that dinner consisted.

  There were five guests, and three silver tureens of soup: viz.,

  mock-turtle soup, ox-tail soup, and giblet soup. Next came a great

  piece of salmon, likewise on a silver dish, a roast goose, a roast

  saddle of mutton, roast game, and all sorts of adjuncts. In this

  way can a gentleman live in a spunging-house if he be inclined; and

  over this repast (which, in truth, I could not touch, for, let

  alone having dined, my heart was full of care)--over this meal my

  friend Gus Hoskins found me, when he received the letter that I had

  despatched to him.

  Gus, who had never been in a prison before, and whose heart failed

  him as the red-headed young Moses opened and shut for him the

  numerous iron outer doors, was struck dumb to see me behind a

  bottle of claret, in a room blazing with gilt lamps; the curtains

  were down too, and you could not see the bars at the windows; and

  Mr. B., Mr. Lock the Brighton officer, Mr. Aminadab, and another

  rich gentleman of his trade and religious persuasion, were chirping

  as merrily, and looked as respectably, as any noblemen in the land.

  "Have him in," said Mr. B., "if he's a friend of Mr. Titmarsh's;

  for, cuss me, I like to see a rogue: and run me through, Titmarsh,

  but I think you are one of the best in London. You beat Brough;

  you do, by Jove! for he looks like a rogue--anybody would swear to

  him; but you! by Jove, you look the very picture of honesty!"

  "A deep file," said Aminadab, winking and pointing me out to his

  friend Mr. Jehoshaphat.

  "A good one," says Jehoshaphat.

  "In for three hundred thousand pound," says Aminadab: "Brough's

  right-hand man, and only three-and-twenty."

  "Mr. Titmarsh, sir, your 'ealth, sir," says Mr. Lock, in an ecstasy

  of admiration. "Your very good 'earth, sir, and better luck to you

  next time."

  "Pooh, pooh! HE'S all right," says Aminadab; "let HIM alone."

  "In for WHAT?" shouted I, quite amazed. "Why, sir, you arrested me

  for 90L."

  "Yes, but you are in for half a million,--you know you are. THEM

  debts I don't count--them paltry tradesmen's accounts. I mean

  Brough's business. It's an ugly one; but you'll get through it.

  We all know you; and I lay my life that when you come through the

  court, Mrs. Titmarsh has got a handsome thing laid by."

  "Mrs. Titmarsh has a small property," says I. "What then?"

  The three gentlemen burst into a loud laugh, said I was a "rum

  chap"--a "downy cove," and made other remarks which I could not

  understand then; but the meaning of which I have since

  comprehended, for they took me to be a great rascal, I am sorry to

  say, and supposed that I had robbed the I. W. D. Association, and,

  in order to make my money secure, settled it on my wife.

  It was in the midst of this conversation that, as I said, Gus came

  in; and whew! when he saw what was going on, he gave SUCH a

  whistle!

  "Herr von Joel, by Jove!" says Aminadab. At which all laughed.

  "Sit down," says Mr. B.,--"sit down, and wet your whistle, my

  piper! I say, egad! you're the piper that played before Moses!

  Had you there, Dab. Dab, get a fresh bottle of Burgundy for Mr.

  Hoskins." And before he knew where he was, there was Gus for the

  first time in his life drinking Clos-Vougeot. Gus said he had

  never tasted Bergamy before, at which the bailiff sneered, and told

  him the name of the wine.

  "OLD CLO! What?" says Gus; and we laughed: but the Hebrew gents

  did not this time.

  "Come, come, sir!" says Mr. Aminadab's friend, "ve're all

  shentlemen here, and shentlemen never makish reflexunsh upon other

  gentlemen'sh pershuashunsh."

  After this feast was concluded, Gus and I retired to my room to

  consult about my affairs. With regard to the responsibility

  incurred as a shareholder in the West Diddlesex, I was not uneasy;

  for though the matter might cause me a little trouble at first, I

  knew I was not a shareholder; that the shares were scrip shares,

  making the dividend payable to the bearer; and my aunt had called

  back her shares, and consequently I was free. But it was very

  unpleasant to me to consider that I was in debt nearly a hundred

  pounds to tradesmen, chiefly of Mrs. Hoggarty's recommendation; and

  as she had promised to be answerable for their bills, I determined

  to send her a letter reminding her of her promise, and begging her

  at the same time to relieve me from Mr. Von Stiltz's debt, for

  which I was arrested: and which was incurred not certainly at her

  desire, but at Mr. Brough's; and would never have been incurred by

  me but at the absolute demand of that gentleman.

  I wrote to her, therefore, begging her to pay all these debts, and

  promised myself on Monday morning again to be with my dear wife.

  Gus carried off the letter, and promised to deliver it in Bernhard

  Street after church-time; taking ca
re that Mary should know nothing

  at all of the painful situation in which I was placed. It was near

  midnight when we parted, and I tried to sleep as well as I could in

  the dirty little sofa-bedstead of Mr. Aminadab's back-parlour.

  That morning was fine and sunshiny, and I heard all the bells

  ringing cheerfully for church, and longed to be walking to the

  Foundling with my wife: but there were the three iron doors

  between me and liberty, and I had nothing for it but to read my

  prayers in my own room, and walk up and down afterwards in the

  court at the back of the house. Would you believe it? This very

  court was like a cage! Great iron bars covered it in from one end

  to another; and here it was that Mr. Aminadab's gaol-birds took the

  air.

  They had seen me reading out of the prayer-book at the back-parlour

  window, and all burst into a yell of laughter when I came to walk

  in the cage. One of them shouted out "Amen!" when I appeared;

  another called me a muff (which means, in the slang language, a

  very silly fellow); a third wondered that I took to my prayer-book

  YET.

  "When do you mean, sir?" says I to the fellow--a rough man, a

  horse-dealer.

  "Why, when you are going TO BE HANGED, you young hypocrite!" says

  the man. "But that is always the way with Brough's people,"

  continued he. "I had four greys once for him--a great bargain, but

  he would not go to look at them at Tattersall's, nor speak a word

  of business about them, because it was a Sunday."

  "Because there are hypocrites," sir, says I, "religion is not to be

  considered a bad thing; and if Mr. Brough would not deal with you

  on a Sunday, he certainly did his duty."

  The men only laughed the more at this rebuke, and evidently

  considered me a great criminal. I was glad to be released from

  their society by the appearance of Gus and Mr. Smithers. Both wore

  very long faces. They were ushered into my room, and, without any

  orders of mine, a bottle of wine and biscuits were brought in by

  Mr. Aminadab; which I really thought was very kind of him.

  "Drink a glass of wine, Mr. Titmarsh," says Smithers, "and read

  this letter. A pretty note was that which you sent to your aunt

  this morning, and here you have an answer to it."

  I drank the wine, and trembled rather as I read as follows:-

  "Sir,--If, because you knew I had desined to leave you my proparty,

  you wished to murdar me, and so stepp into it, you are

  dissapointed. Your VILLIANY and INGRATITUDE WOULD have murdard me,

  had I not, by Heaven's grace, been inabled to look for consalation

  ELSEWHERE.

  "For nearly a year I have been a MARTAR to you. I gave up

  everything,--my happy home in the country, where all respected the

  name of Hoggarty; my valuble furnitur and wines; my plate, glass,

  and crockry; I brought all--all to make your home happy and

  rispectable. I put up with the AIRS AND IMPERTANENCIES of Mrs.

  Titmarsh; I loaded her and you with presents and bennafits. I

  sacrafised myself; I gave up the best sociaty in the land, to witch

  I have been accustomed, in order to be a gardian and compannion to

  you, and prevent, if possible, that WAIST AND IXTRAVYGANCE which I

  PROPHYCIED would be your ruin. Such waist and ixtravygance never,

  never, never did I see. Buttar waisted as if it had been dirt,

  coles flung away, candles burnt AT BOTH ENDS, tea and meat the

  same. The butcher's bill in this house was enough to support six

  famalies.

  "And now you have the audassaty, being placed in prison justly for

  your crimes,--for cheating me of 3,000L., for robbing your mother

  of an insignificient summ, which to her, poor thing, was everything

  (though she will not feel her loss as I do, being all her life next

  door to a beggar), for incurring detts which you cannot pay,

  wherein you knew that your miserable income was quite unable to