CHAPTER CIV.

THE VISIT.—THE HABEAS CORPUS.

Frank awoke at seven o'clock, depressed in spirits and unrefreshed in body. His head still ached; and he was sore all over through having nearly torn himself to pieces on account of the bugs. His face betrayed marks of the ravages committed upon him by his little tormentors; and his eyes were swollen from the same cause. He had not even the comfort of copious ablutions; for the process of the toilette was not more satisfactory on this occasion than it had been on the previous day. Thus all circumstances conspired to make him wretched.

Before he sate down to breakfast, he despatched a messenger to Baker Street for a few necessaries which he required; and, as he did not choose to write to his wife, and knew not whether O'Blunderbuss might still be there, he sent a verbal intimation of his wishes.

The breakfast of this morning was no improvement on its predecessor: indeed, it struck Curtis that he had got from bad to worse by trying the desperate experiment of ordering coffee instead of tea. He, however, knew that it was useless to grumble; and so, having disposed of the meal as best he could, he sent for the morning paper, with which he whiled away an hour and a half until the return of his messenger, who came laden with a portmanteau.

"Well, who did you see in Baker Street?" demanded Frank.

"Please, sir, I see Mr. Proggs and t'other man which is in possession," was the answer.

"And who else?" enquired Curtis.

"Please, sir, I see a stout lady as give me a glass of gin, and a tall genelman as give me a rap over the head," returned the man.

"And what did he do that for?" cried Frank, laughing in spite of himself.

"'Cos he said, sir, that I didn't speak in a speckful way to him. But here's a note as the genelman give me to give to you, sir."

Curtis tore open a curiously folded letter which the messenger handed to him, and the contents of which ran as follow:—

"Be Jasus, my frind, and it's myself that has a right to complain of unfrindly tratement. Here have I been waiting to resave a bit of a note from ye, and divil a line or a word at all, at all. Your poor wife's distracted and has lost her appetite, and all because of your injurious suspicions; but I do all I can to consoul her. If you come to reflict upon the matther, Frank, ye must admit that though appayrances was against me, yet it isn't Capthain O'Blunderbuss that would wrong ye. For, be the powers! and it's mistaken in the bed I was—what with botheration and potheen and the candle's going out; and divil a hayp'orth did I drame where I was, till ye powred the wather all over me. So shake hands, me boy, and let us be frinds again; and sure it's myself that will bring Mrs. Curtis down to dine with ye at two o'clock this afthernoon, and we'll send in the dinner and the potheen first. Proggs and his man are in possission; and I feel like a defated ginral: but they're on their best behaviour, and so I have not been forced to give either of them a taste of the shillaylee. I'm sadly afraid that the chap you have sent up is a fool; so if he should forget to give you this letter, mind you ask him for it. Your wife sends you a million kisses through me; and believe me, my frind, to remain

"Ever yours, "GORMAN O'BLUNDERBUSS."

"Very good," said Frank Curtis, as he brought the perusal of this curious epistle to an end: and having paid and dismissed the messenger, he sate himself down to reflect upon the manner in which he ought to receive his wife and the gallant gentleman.

On the one hand was the sense of the injury he had received, or fancied he had received; for he could not well embrace the double conviction that Mrs. Curtis was _not_ faithless, and that the captain was _not_ treacherous. On the other hand were numerous motives persuasive of an amicable course,—the want of society, the shame of declaring himself to be a cuckold—and last, though not least, the infinite terror in which he stood of Gorman O'Blunderbuss. These reasons were weighty and powerful; and they grew stronger and stronger as the dinner-hour advanced,—until they became completely triumphant when a hamper was sent up, containing cold fowls, ham, wine, dessert, whiskey, and cigars.

No longer hesitating what course to pursue, Frank superintended the laying of the cloth and the arrangement of the provisions upon the table: he decanted the wine—tasted it—and found it excellent;—and, those little proceedings having put him into a thorough good humour, he received his wife and the captain, when they made their appearance, as if nothing had occurred to ruffle his mind with regard to them.

Mrs. Curtis thought it necessary to go into hysterics at the sight of her beloved husband in a spunging-house; but she speedily recovered upon the said beloved husband's kindly recommending her not to make a fool of herself;—and the trio sate down to dinner, at which they made themselves very comfortable indeed. The captain proposed that as the wine-glasses were particularly small, they should drink their Sherry from tumblers; and the motion was adopted after a feeble opposition on the part of the lady.

"Well, Cu-r-r-tis, me boy," exclaimed the gallant gentleman, when they had made an end of eating, having done immense justice to the viands provided, "what are ye afther now? It isn't staying here all your life that you can be thinking of——"

"Nor do I intend to stop in this cursed hole many hours longer," interrupted Frank. "I expect to go over to the Bench, at five o'clock."

"The Binch!" cried the captain, overjoyed at the plan chalked out: "be Jasus! and it's the wisest thing ye can be afther, my frind! The Binch is a glor-rious place—and ye'll be as comfortable there as at home. The porther is the best in all London; and it's worth while to be in the Binch for the pleasure of dhrinking it. Not that I'm a great admirer of malt, Mim," he added, turning politely towards Mrs. Curtis; "but the porther of the Binch is second best to rale potheen. Then the amusements of the Binch, Mim, are delightful! There's the parade to walk upon—and there's the racquet ground when ye're tired of the parade—and there's the dolphin-pump—and the coffee-house, a riglar tavern——In fact," exclaimed the gallant gentleman, quite lost in admiration of all the beautiful views and scenes he was so enthusiastically depicting, "the Binch is a perfect palace of a prison, and I only wish I was there myself."

"I'm sure I should be most happy to change places with you, captain," observed Frank Curtis drily.

"I wouldn't deprive ye of the pleasure, me boy, for all the wor-r-ld!" cried O'Blunderbuss, in a tone of the utmost sincerity. "But what's to be done next? Those bastes of the earth are in possession of the garrison, and every stick will be sould up by them—the ragamuffin scamps that they are!"

"The wife and children must take a lodging over the water, close by the Bench," said Curtis; "and if Sir Christopher won't come forward to assist me, I must either get the Rules or go through the Insolvent's Court—I don't care much which. My friend, the Earl of Billingsgate, did both——"

"Be the holy poker-r! and it's myself that will call on Sir Christopher-r in such a strait as this," vociferated the captain; "and although he did knock me down from the carriage window, the last time——"

"What!" ejaculated Frank, as much amused as astonished at the information which the gallant officer had so inadvertently let slip; "Sir Christopher knocked you down!"

"Blood and thunther!" roared the captain, becoming as red as scarlet; "and was it afther making a fool of myself that I was? For sure and it was Sir Christopher that was knocked down—and I didn't like to tell ye about it before, seeing that he's your own nat'ral uncle. But it's myself that will call upon him and offer the most abject apology; and I'll skin him alive if he don't come for'ard as he ought to do, and pay all your debts, my dear boy. So you persave that there's some use in having such a frind as Gorman O'Bluntherbuss, of Bluntherbuss Park, Connemar-r-ra, Ir-r-reland!" added the martial gentleman, with an awful rattling of the r's.

"The sooner I move over to the neighbourhood of the Bench, the better," said Mrs. Curtis; "for I am sick and tired of living in Baker Street. Just now, when I came out, it seemed to me that all the people I met laughed in my face, as if they knew our circumstances."

"I wish I had seen them dar-r to laugh!" cried Captain O'Blunderbuss, lifting up an empty bottle, and flourishing it over his head: "I'd have sent them slap into the middle of next week, so that they should miss resayving their money next Saturday night."

In such pleasant chat as this, did the trio while away the time until about a quarter to five, when Mr. Pepperton made his appearance to announce that the office had been searched, that three detainers had been found, and that the _habeas corpus_ was all in apple-pie order.

Frank Curtis accordingly rang the bell, and ordered his bill. In about a quarter of an hour it was brought;—and thus it ran:—

MR. CURTIS'S ACCOUNT.

_s._ _d._

Room 10 6

Breakfast 3 0

Eggs 0 6

Messenger to Carey Street 2 6

Reading Newspapers 1 0

Dinner 5 0

Porter 0 6

Gin and Cigars 5 6

Bread and Cheese for Supper 2 0

Porter 0 6

Room 10 6

Breakfast 3 0

Eggs 0 6

Messenger to Baker Street 3 0

Use of table-cloth, knives, and forks, &c., gentleman 2 6 providing his own dinner

Extras 5 0

—— —— ——

£2 15 6

—— —— ——

"Why, my good woman," exclaimed Frank Curtis, amazed as such a terrific attempt at imposition, "this account is absurd. Besides, there are two things in it that I paid for myself—I mean the messenger yesterday and to-day."

"Master says it's all right, sir," observed the harridan.

"And then you charge a shilling for reading two newspapers a fortnight old," cried Frank, more and more bewildered as he studied the items of the bill: "and five shillings for _extras_! Why—what the devil are the _extras_, since it seems to me that you have taken precious good care to omit nothing?"

"The extras is soap, and candles, and so on," said the woman, growing impatient.

"Then, be Jasus! and just let me soap over Mr. Mac Grab with a shillaleh!" ejaculated Captain O'Blunderbuss, starting from his seat. "It's afther robbing my frind, ye are—ye bastes of the earth!"

Mr. Pepperton however interfered, and represented to the two gentlemen that there was no possibility of obtaining redress—that sheriff's-officers might charge exactly what they liked—and that it would be much better to pay the bill without any haggling. The amount was accordingly liquidated, and the old woman received half-a-crown as a gratuity, which she took in a manner most unequivocally denoting that she had expected at least four times as much.

"Well," exclaimed Frank Curtis, as soon as she had left the room, "of all infernal impositions this is the greatest! Supposing I was a poor devil——"

"Then you would have been bundled straight off to Whitecross Street at once," observed Pepperton. "Lord bless you, my dear sir—there's an aristocracy amongst debtors as well as in every thing else in this country."

"I always thought the law was the same for rich or poor," said Curtis.

"You never were under a greater mistake in your life," returned the solicitor. "Money is all-powerful in England, and makes the gentleman; and gentlemen are treated quite differently from common people. Such establishments as the Bench and the Fleet[43] are for those who can afford to pay for a _habeas_: while those who cannot, must go to the County Gaol. These spunging-houses, too, are places of accommodation, for the use of which people must pay liberally."

"Or rather be robbed vilely," said Frank. "But never mind—it can't be helped. When shall I have to go over to the Bench?"

"The tipstaff is no doubt already waiting at the public-house opposite," replied the lawyer.

"Then I'll be off at once," exclaimed Curtis, rising from his chair.

"Be the power-rs! but we'll see ye safe over to the Binch," cried Captain O'Blunderbuss; "for it may be that I shall have to thrash the Marshal or skin a tur-rnkey to renther the people dacently civil in that iligant istablishment."

"Yes—you come with me, captain," said Frank, who had been thinking of some means to separate his amiable wife and his devoted friend. "You can put Mrs. C. into a hackney-coach; and to-morrow morning, my dear," he added, turning towards his spouse, "you can look out for a lodging somewhere in the neighbourhood of the prison."

"But you don't mean me to remain all alone to-night in Baker Street, with those odious officers in the house?" exclaimed Mrs. Curtis, not admiring the proposed arrangement.

"It would not be proper for the captain to stay in the house now that I am away," said Frank, hastily, and without daring to look at his gallant friend: indeed, scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when he was surprised at his courage in having dared to utter them.

Fortunately the captain took the observation in good part, and even expressed his approval of it; for it struck the martial gentleman that he should stand a much better chance of amusing himself with Frank Curtis in the Bench, with the interior arrangements of which he was pretty well acquainted from old experience, than in the society of Mrs. Curtis in Baker Street. The lady could not, therefore, offer any farther opposition to the arrangement proposed; but she darted an angry look upon the captain, who responded by one of earnest appeal to her mercy.

She now took leave of her husband, and was escorted by Captain O'Blunderbuss to the nearest coach-stand; and as some time elapsed ere he returned to the spunging-house, it is presumable that he had a little difficulty in making his peace with her.

At length, however, he did re-appear; and, the messenger having conveyed the portmanteau over to the public-house opposite, for which he only charged a shilling, the prisoner proceeded thither in company with Mr. MacGrab and Captain O'Blunderbuss, Pepperton bidding them farewell at the door.

In a little front parlour on the first floor of the public-house alluded to, sate half-a-dozen seedy-looking men, who were delectably occupied in smoking cigars and drinking hot gin-and-water. Their conversation was doubtless very amusing to themselves; but it would have been very boring to strangers;—for the topic seemed entirely limited to what had taken place that day at the Insolvent Debtors' Court, or at the Judges' Chambers. There, in that same room, were those men accustomed to meet every afternoon (Sunday excepted), at about the same hour; and their discourse was invariably on the same subjects. They were tipstaffs—or, more properly speaking, perhaps, tipstaves: they lived in the atmosphere of debtors' prisons and law-courts;—and all their information was circumscribed to the transactions thereof. When they were not hovering about the lobbies of the Fleet or the Bench, they were "down at Westminster," or "up at Portugal Street;" and if not in any of those places—why, then they were at the public-house.

It was to one of these worthies that MacGrab introduced Mr. Francis Curtis; and as the tipstaff thus particularised had not finished his cigar nor his gin-and-water, Mr. Frank Curtis and Captain O'Blunderbuss sate down to keep him company till he had. Half an hour afterwards a hackney-coach was sent for; and the prisoner, his gallant friend, and the officer were speedily on their road to the King's Bench prison.

Curtis spoke but little during the transit: he felt nervous at the idea of going to his new home. But the captain rattled away as if he were determined to speak for himself and his friend both; and the tipstaff was still in a state of uncertainty as to whether he should set the gallant gentleman down as a very extraordinary personage, or as a most wondrous liar, when the vehicle stopped at a little low door in a gloomy brick wall.

"Be Jasus! and here's the Binch already," exclaimed Captain O'Blunderbuss, thrusting his head out of the coach-window. "That house there, with the trees before it, Frank, is the Marshal's—and a very dacent berth he's got of it: I shouldn't mind standing in his shoes at all, at all. But come along, me dear frind."

Thus speaking, the captain leapt from the vehicle, followed by Frank Curtis and the tipstaff; and, having traversed an enclosure formed by the gloomy-looking wall above alluded to and the high spike-topped boundary of the prison itself, the trio ascended a few steps which led them into the upper lobby of the King's Bench.

Footnote 43:

Within the last few years the Fleet has been suppressed, and the Bench, under the general name of the Queen's Prison, has become the receptacle for all metropolitan debtors who are enabled to purchase the luxury of a _habeas corpus_.