The Brown Mask | Page 4

out of humour
with the frequenters of the "Punch-Bowl." He threw a guinea to the
landlady, told her to buy a keepsake with the change, and passed out
with a careless nod, much as though he intended never to come back
into such low company.
The landlady stood fingering the guinea, turning it between her finger
and thumb, rather helping her reflections by the action than satisfying
herself that the coin was a good one.
"I believe we've had Galloping Hermit here to-night," she said suddenly.
"It was unlike Gentleman Jack to talk as he did just now. Mark my
words, he wears a brown mask on special occasions, and thought by
sneering to throw dust in our eyes. It's not the first time I have
considered the possibility, and I'm not sure that I won't buy a brown

silk mask for keepsake and slip it on when next I see him coming in at
the door. That would settle the question."
She had many arguments to support her opinion, reminded her
customers of many little incidents which had occurred in the past,
recalling Gentleman Jack's peculiar behaviour on various occasions.
Her arguments sounded convincing, and for an hour or more they
discussed the question.
The opportunity to test her belief by wearing a brown silk mask never
came, however, for that same night Gentleman Jack was taken on
Hounslow Heath. A stumbling horse put him at the mercy of the man
he sought to rob, who struck him on the head with a heavy riding-whip,
and when the highwayman recovered consciousness he found himself a
prisoner, bound hand and foot. He endeavoured to bargain with his
captor, and made an attempt to outwit him, but, failing in both efforts,
he accepted his position with a good grace, determined to make the best
of it. Newgate should be proud of its latest resident. For a little space,
at any rate, he would be the hero of fashionable circles, and go to his
death with all the glamour of romance. He would leave a memory
behind him that the turnkeys might presently make stirring tales of, as
they drank their purl at night round the fire in the prison lobby.
The highwayman's story concerning the bishop quickly went the round
of the town, and a wit declared that at least half the reverend gentlemen
went trembling in their shoes for fear of their names being mentioned.
The story, and the wit's comment, served to raise the curiosity of the
fashionable world, and more than one coach stopped by Newgate to set
down beauty and its escort on a visit to the highwayman. But a greater
sensation was pending. Who first spread the report no one knew, but it
was suddenly whispered that this man was in reality no other than the
notorious wearer of the brown mask. When questioned he did not deny
it, and his evident pleasure at the mystery which surrounded him went
far to establish the story. For every person interested in Gentleman Jack,
a dozen were anxious to see and speak to Galloping Hermit. Every tale
concerning him was recalled and re-told, losing nothing in the re-telling.
Men had rather envied his adventurous career, many women's hearts

had beat faster at the mention of his name, and now the most absurd
theories regarding his real personality were seriously discussed in
coffee-houses, in boudoirs, and even at Court. It was whispered that the
King himself would intervene to save him from the gallows.
For a long time no trial had caused such a sensation, and Judge Marriott,
whose ambition it was to be likened to his learned and famous brother,
Judge Jeffreys, rose to the occasion and succeeded in giving an
excellent imitation of the bullying methods of his idol. This was an
opportunity to win fame, he argued, and he gave full play to the little
wit he possessed and ample licence to his undeniable powers of
vituperation and blasphemy.
Newgate was thronged, and the prisoner bore himself gallantly as a
man might in his hour of triumph. It was a great thing to be an object of
interest to statesmen, scholars, and wits, and to win smiles and tears
from beauty. His eyes travelled slowly over the sea of faces, and rested
for a little while upon a young girl. Her eyes were downcast, but he
thought there must be tears in them, and for a moment he was more
interested in her than in anyone else. Why had she come? She was
different from all the other women about her. Beside her sat an elderly
woman who seemed to be enjoying herself exceedingly, and appeared
to find especial relish in Judge Marriott's remarks. The more brutal they
were the more witty she seemed to think them.
As