Hetty Wesley | Page 9

not judge these eastern mendicants by your London
beggars. They are not thieves, nor avaricious, but religious men
practising self-denial, who collect alms merely to support life, and
believe that money so bestowed blesses the giver."
"A singularly perverted race!" was the apothecary's comment.
Captain Bewes turned towards Mr. Samuel, who next spoke from the
penumbra at the far end of the table. "I believe, Captain," said he, "that
these mendicants are as a rule the most harmless of men?"
"Wouldn't hurt a fly, sir. I have known some whose charity extended to
the vermin on their own bodies."
Mrs. Wesley sat tapping the mahogany gently with her finger-tips. "To
my thinking, the key of this mystery, if there be one, lies at Surat. My
brother had powerful enemies: his letters make that clear. We must
inquire into them--their numbers and the particular grudge they bore
him--and also into the state of his mind. He was not the sort of person
to be kidnapped in open day."
--"By a Thames waterman, for instance, madam?" said Captain Bewes,
jocularly, but instantly changed his tone. "You suggest that he may
have disappeared on his own account? To avoid his enemies, you
mean?"

"As to his motives, sir, I say nothing: but it certainly looks to me as if
he had planned to give you the slip."
"Tut-tut!" exclaimed Matthew. "And left his money behind? Not
likely!"
"We have still his boxes to search--"
"Under power of attorney," Sam suggested. "We must see about getting
it to-morrow."
"Well, madam"--Captain Bewes knocked out his pipe, drained his glass,
and rose--"the boxes shall be delivered up as soon as you bring me
authority: and I trust, for my own sake as well as yours, the contents
will clear up this mystery for us. I shall be tied to my ship for the next
three days, possibly for another week--"
He was holding out his hand to Mrs. Wesley when the door opened
behind him, and Sally appeared.
"If you please," she announced, "there's a gentleman without, wishes to
see the company. He calls himself Mr. Wesley."
"It cannot be Charles?" Mrs. Wesley turned towards her son Sam. "But
Charles must be at Westminster and in bed these two hours!"
"Surely," said he.
"'Tis not young Master Charles, ma'am, nor anyone like him: but a
badger-faced old gentleman who snaps up a word before 'tis out of your
mouth."
"Show him in," commanded Matthew: and the words were scarcely out
before the visitor stood in the doorway. Mrs. Wesley recognised him at
once as the old gentleman who had stood beside her that morning and
watched the fight.
"Good evening, ma'am. I learned your address at Westminster: or, to be
precise, at the Reverend Samuel Wesley's. You are he, I

suppose?"--here he swung round upon Sam--"Your amiable wife told
me I should find you here: and so much the better, my visit being on
family business. Eh? What? I hope I'm not turning out this
gentleman?"--indicating Captain Bewes--"No? Well, if you were
leaving, sir, I won't detain you: since, as I say, mine is family business.
Mr. Matthew Wesley, I presume?"--with a quick turn towards his host
as Captain Bewes slipped away--"And brother of this lady's husband?
Quite so. No, I thank you, I do not smoke; but will take snuff, if the
company allows. I have heard reports of your skill, sir. My name is
Wesley also: Garrett Wesley, of Dangan, County Meath, in Ireland: I
sit for my county in Parliament and pass in this world for a respectable
person. You'll excuse these details, ma'am; but when a man breaks in
upon a family party at this hour of the night, he ought to give some
account of himself."
Mrs. Wesley rose from her chair and dropped him a stately curtsey.
"The name suffices for us, sir. I make my compliments to one of my
husband's family."
"I'm obliged to you, ma'am, and pleased to hear the kinship
acknowledged. A good family, as families go, though I say it. We have
held on to Dangan since Harry Fifth's time; and to our name since Guy
of Welswe was made a thane by Athelstan. We have a knack, ma'am, of
staying the course: small in the build but sound in the wind. It did me
good, to-day, to see that son of yours step out for the last round."
"Excuse me--" put in Samuel, pushing a candle aside and craning
forward (he was short-sighted) for a better look at the visitor.
"Ha? You have not heard? Well, well--oughtn't to tell tales out of
school, and certainly not to the Usher: but your mother and I, sir, had
the fortune, this morning, to witness a bout of fisticuffs--Whig against
Tory--and perhaps it will not altogether distress you to