Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/426

 1, 1864.] have done me, and I wish you well, and I hope you’ll get off—that is, if you can feel that you ought to,” Sir Stephen added, unpleasant reminiscences of what his son had said intruding into his frank good nature. “I wish you no ill, I’m sure; I wish you hearty good luck. And, my men, as you have undertaken to escort me to my brother’s, I desire that you’ll go on with me, that I may wish you no ill. Come! don’t keep me here, perched in the cold.”

His half-careless, half-authoritative, and wholly kind tone had the desired effect; the barouche was dragged on again, and the mob, to a man, followed after it, setting up their cheers again.

“Thank you, Sir Stephen,” said Mr. Carlton, throwing back the words as he resumed his walk between the policemen.

A minute more, and there was another interruption; of sound, at any rate. A band, whence hunted up on the spur of the moment, the excited South Wennock natives, or perhaps Mrs. Fitch, alone could tell, came into sight and hearing, to welcome Sir Stephen to his own town.

“A band!” he groaned, sinking into the corner of the carriage. “For me! What on earth do they take me for. People must have gone mad to-night.”

Frederick could not stand that. He had had enough, as it was. Jumping out at the risk of all consequences, he got away with a laugh, leaving Sir Stephen to make the best of it.

But the band had not come to a proper understanding with itself. In point of fact, it had been enjoying a sharp quarrel. The one half of it being of opinion that the welcoming strains to Sir Stephen should be of a personal character and significance, such as “See the Conquering Hero comes,” the other half holding that the music should partake more of a national nature, and suggested “Rule Britannia.” As neither side would give way, each played its own tune, a convenient way of showing independence. The result, as Sir Stephen’s ears testified, was unique; the more especially as each division played its loudest, hoping to drown the noise of the adversary.

And thus, amidst cheering, shouting, running, laughing, and remonstrating, Sir Stephen Grey was drawn in state to the house of his brother—Sir Stephen, who had been hunted from the town but a few short years before.

And Mr. Carlton, who had been the original cause of it all, and had certainly done his part in the hunting, was conducted by his attendants to his house of sojourn for the night; a strong place, popularly called in South Wennock the Lock-up.

lock-up in South Wennock was one of the institutions of the days gone by. The new police station—new, speaking by comparison—was a small, confined place, and remanded prisoners were still conveyed to the lock-up until they should be consigned to the county prison. The lock-up, on the contrary, was a good-sized habitation, containing five or six rooms—one of them an ugly cell enough—and all on the ground floor; for it was built somewhat after the manner of a huge barn, which had been divided into compartments afterwards. The building had never had any other name than Lock-up in the memory of South Wennock, and it was situated at the end of the town, near Mr. Carlton’s residence.

He, Mr. Carlton, was conducted to this place. In the days gone by he had occasionally been called into it to visit sick prisoners; from his proximity to the spot he was nearly always sent for when a doctor was required, in preference to Mr. Grey, who lived farther off. What a contrast, that time and this! The police, deferent to Mr. Carlton yet, but feeling their responsibility, marshalled him into the identical cell spoken of, and bowed to him as he went in. Mr. Carlton knew the room, and drew in his lips, but he said nothing. None but criminals accused of very heinous crimes were ever put into it; it was called the strong room, and was supposed to be a security against any chance of escape, from the fact of its possessing no windows. In fact, once locked into this compartment, there was no chance of it whatever.

The first thing the police did was to search Mr. Carlton, apologising as they did so for its being the “custom.” He offered no resistance; he seemed rather inclined to joke than otherwise. Barely was this done, when Lawyer Billiter arrived, and was allowed to be closeted with the prisoner.

“And now,” said Mr. Carlton, beginning upon the subject that, to his mind, was the greatest puzzle of all, as he sat down on the only chair the room contained, and the lawyer made himself content with the edge of the iron bedstead, “be so good as tell me, the first thing, where that letter came from.”

“I did tell you when we were in the hall; it was found in your iron safe.”

“That’s impossible,” returned Mr. Carlton; “it never was in the safe.”

“Look here, Carlton,” returned the lawyer; “it’s of no good mincing matters to me. I can