CHAPTER XCVIII.

AN ACQUITTAL AND A SENTENCE.

The Blackamoor, in his mysterious abode, beheld the successful progress of his grand schemes; and while all London was busy with conjectures relative to the daring unknown who seemed to have constituted himself the instrument of justice and the champion of innocence wrongly accused, the object of this general interest and curiosity remained in impervious concealment.

The Secretary of State offered a reward of two hundred pounds to any one that should give such information as to lead to the discovery of the person who had enticed Sir Christopher Blunt to his unknown abode, and who had caused Dr. Lascelles to be conveyed thither by force; and the most astute Bow Street agents were employed in instituting enquiries in every part of the metropolis with a view to find out the dwelling of the individual in question.

The newspapers teemed with the most absurd and contradictory reports on the subject; and a thousand wild rumours were constantly circulating throughout the metropolis. The result of all this was that those who were employed in the enquiries above alluded to, were so mystified and bewildered, that they worked like drunken men in the dark,—taking up and following any ridiculous information which they obtained either from wags or from persons who wished to appear more knowing than their neighbours,—and pursuing what at first might seem to be a clue, but which invariably led to nothing satisfactory at last.

The Blackamoor's own retainers, who were all faithful to their master, augmented this confusion of rumours and ideas, by mingling amongst the gossips in places of public resort, and gravely propagating reports which were sure to direct the attention of the Bow Street runners from the very point where its object lay; and all that Dr. Lascelles had been known to hazard in the shape of conjecture in the matter, was a hint that, to the best of his belief, the carriage in which he had been borne away on the memorable night of the confession, had eventually stopped in one of the most easterly suburbs of the metropolis. The consequence of this suggestion was, that Wapping, Whitechapel, Bethnal Green, and Globe Town were regularly explored by the Bow Street officials—but entirely without success.

Although the innocence of Mr. Torrens was universally believed, yet, as he had been committed for trial, it was necessary that he should undergo the ordeal. This ceremony took place a few days after the publication of the confession of the real murderers—indeed, on the very Monday following the grand entertainment at Carlton House.

The prisoner was arraigned on the charge of having assassinated Sir Henry Courtenay; and the Recorder of London presided on the bench. The counsel for the prosecution merely stated the particulars of the discovery of the corpse of the deceased baronet, and the circumstances which had led to the prisoner's committal; but he did not for a moment insist that those circumstances were conclusive against him. Sir Christopher Blunt then detailed in evidence all that he had given in narrative at Bow Street; and Dr. Lascelles corroborated his statement. The confession signed by Joshua Pedler and Timothy Splint, and likewise the one in which Martha Torrens had attested to certain facts in favour of the prisoner, were read by the clerk of arraigns; and the counsel for the defence was about to address the Court, when the jury declared that their minds were already made up.

The _acquittal_ of the prisoner immediately followed; and the first person who shook hands with him as he was released from the dock, was Sir Christopher Blunt.

Mr. Torrens accepted a seat in the knight's carriage, and repaired to a friend's house in the neighbourhood, where Clarence Villiers, Adelais, Rosamond, and Esther de Medina were assembled to welcome his acquittal, relative to which none of them had felt at all uneasy.

But it was evident that, although thus relieved from the dreadful charge and appalling danger which had recently hung over him, Mr. Torrens was an altered man. He had received a blow which had shaken his constitution to its very basis:—his mental energies were impaired;—and instead of a hale man of between fifty-five and fifty-six, which was his actual age, he seemed to be a feeble, tottering octogenarian.

When the excitement produced by the meeting with his family after his release had somewhat subsided, Mr. Torrens said with nervous impatience, "Rosamond, my dear child, I shall leave England this very day. Will you accompany your father?"

"Leave us the moment you are restored to us!" exclaimed Adelais, bursting into tears.

"Yes—yes," returned the unhappy man: "I cannot—dare not remain in England. Though released from a criminal gaol, yet I am in danger of being plunged into a debtors' prison; for I am ruined, as you all know—totally, irredeemably ruined. Besides—never, never again could I dwell in that house where so many frightful things have occurred. Yes," he repeated, "I must leave England at once; and you, my poor Rosamond," he added, with tears trickling down his sunken cheeks, "will have to support your father, by means of your accomplishments, in a foreign land."

"No—that must not be," said Esther de Medina, passing a handkerchief rapidly over her eyes: "Rosamond has friends to whom, although they have known her but for so short a period, her welfare is dear. Foreseeing some such decision as that to which you have now come, relative to leaving England, my father has desired me to place a thousand pounds at your daughter's disposal," continued the beautiful Jewess, addressing herself to the wondering Torrens, and at the same time placing a sealed packet in Rosamond's hands.

"Oh! my generous—my excellent-hearted friend," exclaimed Rosamond, embracing the Jewess tenderly: "how is it possible that I could have merited this kindness—this extraordinary bounty at your hands?"

"We are fellow-creatures, though of a different creed," said Esther modestly;—but she was compelled to receive the thanks of the astonished Torrens and of the admiring Clarence and Adelais.

Villiers now drew his father-in-law aside, and spoke to him concerning Mrs. Torrens.

"I cannot see her, Clarence—I cannot meet her again," he replied. "Besides, an interview would be useless. Our marriage was not one of affection, as you are well aware: and, moreover——But," he added, suddenly interrupting himself, and looking tremblingly in the young man's face, while his voice sank to a low, hollow whisper,—"she has doubtless told you _all_?"—and then he glanced toward Rosamond, who was conversing with Esther de Medina and Adelais at the farther end of the room.

"Yes—I know _all_," returned Villiers; and the words seemed to convulse his wretched listener with horror. "But it is too late to amend the past—and it is not for me to reproach you _now_. Your own conscience, Mr. Torrens, will prove a sufficient punishment for the frightful wrong you have done to that poor girl. And fear not that I shall impart the sickening truth to my wife, who is already too deeply affected by all that has lately occurred."

"Thank you, Clarence—thank you, at least for that assurance," said the old man, his voice almost suffocated with terrible emotions. "You perceive how impossible it is that I should remain in England—with so many dreadful reminiscences to make me ashamed to look those who know me in the face. This very instant will Rosamond and myself set out on our way to a foreign land: you will be kind enough to send my trunks after me to Dover."

"I do not attempt to dissuade you from this step," observed Villiers; "because I can see no more agreeable alternative."

Mr. Torrens' decision was then communicated to the three ladies: and the farewell scene between the sisters was affecting in the extreme. Nor less did Adelais deplore the necessity which compelled her to separate from her father; but she at least had a consolation in the midst of her grief—a solace in the possession of a husband who loved her devotedly, and whom she adored.

A post-chaise was speedily in attendance: and Mr. Torrens took his departure from the English capital, in company with his younger daughter.

Esther de Medina did not take leave of Clarence and Adelais before she had made them promise to pay her an early visit at Finchley Manor; and the young couple returned to Torrens Cottage more than ever prepossessed in favour of the beautiful Jewess, who seemed to delight only in doing good.

* * * * *

On the ensuing day Martha Torrens was placed in the dock, before the Recorder of London, charged with the crime of forgery.

The court of the Old Bailey was crowded with persons belonging to those religious associations of which the prisoner had lately been so conspicuous a member. There was Mr. Jonathan Pugwash, President of the _South Sea islands Bible-Circulating Society_, not only with a face indicative of its owner's attachment to brandy, but also with a breath smelling very strongly of that special liquor: there also was the Reverend Malachi Sawkins, looking so awfully miserable at the scandal brought by the prisoner's conduct on the religious world, that a stranger would have supposed him to be at least her brother, if not her husband;—and there likewise was the Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks, who, having made his peace with the members of the above-mentioned Society, had latterly come out much stronger than ever in the shape of a saint. Many other sleek and oily, or thin and pale, religious gentlemen were present on this occasion; and in the gallery were numerous old ladies, all belonging to the ultra-evangelical school, and who appeared to divide their attention between the task of wiping their eyes with white cambric handkerchiefs and strengthening their nerves by means of frequent applications to little flasks or bottles which they took from their pockets or muffs.

Mrs. Torrens was supported into the dock by two turnkeys of Newgate; for she was overcome with shame and grief at the position in which her crime had placed her. She was indeed a pitiable object; and it was evident that, whatever penalty the Bench might award, her punishment in this world had already begun.

The indictment being read, she pleaded _Guilty_ in a faint voice; and the prosecutors strongly recommended her to mercy.

The Recorder[42] put on the black cap, and proceeded to address the prisoner in a most feeling manner. His lordship said that the law left him no alternative but to pronounce sentence of death. He however observed that, considering the contrition manifested by the plea of _Guilty_ and the intercession of the bankers who had been defrauded of their money by the forgery, he should recommend the prisoner to the mercy of the Crown. His lordship concluded by an intimation that she must make up her mind to pass the remainder of her days as an exile in the penal settlements, but that her life would be spared.

She was conveyed in a fainting state away from the dock; and the religious gentlemen present gave so awful and simultaneous a groan, that the judge was quite startled upon the bench, and the jury were horrified in their box.

Footnote 42:

At the period of which we are writing, this high civic functionary tried cases involving capital penalties as well as those of a less serious nature. Since the establishment of the Central Criminal Court, the great judges of the kingdom preside at the Old Bailey to try prisoners charged with grave offences.