Great Britain -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction
Mr. Hawes came creeping after and joined the injustices; every eye
furtively watched the parson whom they had outwitted. Fry himself had
gone to the lodge to let him out and keep him out. He was but a few
steps from the door. Hawes chuckled; his heart beat with exultation. A
nether moment and that huge barrier would be interposed forever between
him and his enemy, the prisoners' friend.
“Open the door, Mr. Fry,” said the chaplain. Fry pulled it quickly open.
“And let that gentleman in!”
A middle-aged gentleman was paying off his fly. The door being thus
thrown open he walked quickly into the jail as if it belonged to him.
“Who is this?” inquired Mr. Williams sharply. The newcomer inquired as
sharply, “The governor of this jail?”
Mr. Hawes stepped forward: “I am the governor.” The newcomer handed him
his card and a note.
“Mr. Lacy from the Home Office,” said Mr. Hawes to the injustices.
“These, sir, are the visiting justices.”
Mr. Lacy bowed, but addressed himself to Mr. Hawes only. “Grave charges
have been made against you, sir. I am here to see whether matters are
such as to call for a closer investigation.”
“May I ask, sir, who makes the charges against me?”
“The chaplain of your own jail.”
“But he is my enemy, sir, my personal enemy.”
“Don't distress yourself. No public man is safe from detraction. We hear
an excellent account of you from every quarter but this one. My visit
will probably turn to your advantage.”
Hawes brightened.
“Is there any room in which I could conduct this inquiry?”
“Will you be pleased to come to the justices' room?”
“Yes. Let us go there at once. Gentlemen, you shall be present if you
choose.”
“It is right you should know the chaplain is cracked,” said Mr.
Williams.
“I should not wonder. Pray,” inquired Mr. Lacy, “who was that
bilious-looking character near the gate when I came in?”
“Why, that was the chaplain.”
“I thought so! I dare say we shall find he has taken a jaundiced view of
things. Send for him, if you please, and let us get through the business
as quickly as we can.”
When Mr. Eden came he found Mr. Lacy chatting pleasantly with his four
adversaries. On his entrance the gentleman's countenance fell a
little, and Mr. Eden had the pleasure of seeing that this man, too, was
prejudiced against him.
“Mr.--Mr.--?”
“Eden.”
“Mr. Eden, be seated, if you please. You appear to be ill, sir?”
“I am recovering from a mortal sickness.”
“The jaundice, eh?”
“Something of that nature.”
“A horrible complaint.”
Mr. Eden bowed.
“I have had some experience of it. Are you aware of its effect on the
mind?”
“I feel its effect on the temper and the nerves.”
“Deeper than that, sir--it colors the judgment. Makes us look at
everything on the dark side.”
Mr. Eden sighed: “I see what you are driving at; but you confound effect
with cause.”
Mr. Lacy shrugged his shoulders, opened his portfolio, and examined a
paper or two.
“Mr. Hawes, you served her majesty in another way before you came here?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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