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somehow； or she’ll poison the tea…kettle one evening when I’m out。
He might marry Miggs； if he was drunk enough。 It shall be done。
I’ll make a note of it。’
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Chapter 40
ittle thinking of the plan for his happy settlement in life
which had suggested itself to the teeming brain of his
L
provident commander； Hugh made no pause until Saint
Dunstan’s giants struck the hour above him； when he worked the
handle of a pump which stood hard by； with great vigour； and
thrusting his head under the spout； let the water gush upon him
until a little stream ran down from every uncombed hair； and he
was wet to the waist。 Considerably refreshed by this ablution； both
in mind and body； and almost sobered for the time； he dried
himself as he best could； then crossed the road； and plied the
knocker of the Middle Temple gate。
The night…porter looked through a small grating in the portal
with a surly eye； and cried ‘Halloa！’ which greeting Hugh returned
in kind； and bade him open quickly。
‘We don’t sell beer here；’ cried the man； ‘what else do you
want？’
‘To come in；’ Hugh replied； with a kick at the door。
‘Where to go？’
‘Paper Buildings。’
‘Whose chambers？’
‘Sir John Chester’s。’ Each of which answers； he emphasised
with another kick。
After a little growling on the other side； the gate was opened；
and he passed in： undergoing a close inspection from the porter as
he did so。
‘You wanting Sir John； at this time of night！’ said the man。
‘Ay！’ said Hugh。 ‘I！ What of that？’
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‘Why； I must go with you and see that you do； for I don’t believe
it。’
‘Come along then。’
Eyeing him with suspicious looks； the man； with key and
lantern； walked on at his side； and attended him to Sir John
Chester’s door； at which Hugh gave one knock； that echoed
through the dark staircase like a ghostly summons； and made the
dull light tremble in the drowsy lamp。
‘Do you think he wants me now？’ said Hugh。
Before the man had time to answer； a footstep was heard
within； a light appeared； and Sir John； in his dressing…gown and
slippers； opened the door。
‘I ask your pardon； Sir John；’ said the porter； pulling off his hat。
‘Here’s a young man says he wants to speak to you。 It’s late for
strangers。 I thought it best to see that all was right。’
‘Aha！’ cried Sir John； raising his eyebrows。 ‘It’s you； messenger；
is it？ Go in。 Quite right； friend。 I commend your prudence highly。
Thank you。 God bless you。 Good night。’
To be commended； thanked； God…blessed； and bade good night
by one who carried ‘Sir’ before his name； and wrote himself M。P。
to boot； was something for a porter。 He withdrew with much
humility and reverence。 Sir John followed his late visitor into the
dressing…room； and sitting in his easy…chair before the fire； and
moving it so that he could see him as he stood； hat in hand； beside
the door； looked at him from head to foot。
The old face； calm and pleasant as ever； the complexion； quite
juvenile in its bloom and clearness； the same smile； the wonted
precision and elegance of dress； the white； well…ordered teeth； the
delicate hands； the composed and quiet manner； everything as it
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used to be： no mark of age or passion； envy； hate； or discontent： all
unruffled and serene； and quite delightful to behold。
He wrote himself M。P。—but how？ Why； thus。 It was a proud
family—more proud； indeed； than wealthy。 He had stood in danger
of arrest； of bailiffs； and a jail—a vulgar jail； to which the common
people with small incomes went。 Gentlemen of ancient houses
have no privilege of exemption from such cruel laws—unless they
are of one great house； and then they have。 A proud man of his
stock and kindred had the means of sending him there。 He
offered—not indeed to pay his debts； but to let him sit for a close
borough until his own son came of age； which； if he lived； would
come to pass in twenty years。 It was quite as good as an Insolvent
Act； and infinitely more genteel。 So Sir John Chester was a
member of Parliament。
But how Sir John？ Nothing so simple； or so easy。 One touch
with a sword of state； and the transformation was effected。 John
Chester； Esquire； M。P。； attended court—went up with an
address—headed a deputation。 Such elegance of manner； so many
graces of deportment； such powers of conversation； could never
pass unnoticed。 Mr was too common for such merit。 A man so
gentlemanly should have been—but Fortune is capricious—born a
Duke： just as some dukes should have been born labourers。 He
caught the fancy of the king； knelt down a grub； and rose a
butterfly。 John Chester； Esquire； was knighted and became Sir
John。
‘I thought when you left me this evening； my esteemed
acquaintance；’ said Sir John after a pretty long silence； ‘that you
intended to return with all despatch？’
‘So I did； master。’
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‘And so you have？’ he retorted； glancing at his watch。 ‘Is that
what you would say？’
Instead of replying； Hugh changed the leg on which he leant；
shuffled his cap from one hand to the other； looked at the ground；
the wall； the ceiling； and finally at Sir John himself； before whose
pleasant face he lowered his eyes again； and fixed them on the