# The man who found himself (Smith's Magazine 1920)/Chapter 19

From Smith's Magazine, May 1920, pp. 312–313.

### CHAPTER XIX.

“He came back two hours ago, sir, and he was in his room ten minutes ago—but he's gone.”
“Well,” said Bobby, who was just off to bed, “he'll be back again soon; can't come to much harm here. You'd better sit up for him, Mudd.”
Off he went to bed. He lay reading for a while and thinking of Cerise, then he put out the light and dropped off to sleep.
He was awakened by Mudd, who had a candle in his hand.
“He's not back yet, Mr. Robert.”
Bobby sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Not back—oh, uncle Simon! What's the time?”
“Gone one, sir.”
“Bother! What can have happened to him, Mudd?”
“That's what I'm asking myself,” said Mudd.
A heavy step sounded on the gravel drive in front of the hotel, then came a ring at the bell. Mudd, candle in hand, darted off.
Bobby heard voices down below. Five minutes passed and then Mudd reappeared, ghastly to look at.
“They've took him,” said Mudd.
“What?”
“He's been took poachin'.”
“Poaching!”
“Colonel Salmon's river—he and a man, and the man's got off. He's at the policeman's house and he says he'll let us have him if we'll go bail for him, seeing he's an old gentleman and only did it for the lark of the thing.”
“Thank God!”
“But he'll have to go before the magistrates on We'n'sday whether or no. Before the magistrates—him!”
“The devil!” said Bobby. He got up and hurried on some clothes.
“Him before the magistrates—in his present state! Oh, Lord!”
“Shut up,” said Bobby. His hands were shaking as he put on his things. Pictures of Simon before the magistrates were fleeting before him. Money was the only chance! Could the policeman be bribed?
Hurrying downstairs and outside into the moonlit night, he found the officer. None of the hotel folk had turned out at the ring of the bell. Bobby, in a muted voice and beneath the stars, listened to the tale of the law. Then he tried corruption.
Useless. Constable Copper, though he might be no more good than a blind horse, according to Horn, was incorruptible yet consolatory.
“It'll only be a couple of quid fine,” said he. “Maybe not that, seeing what he is and that it was done for a lark. Horn will get it in the neck, but not him. He's at my house now, and you can have him back if you'll go bail he won't get loose again. He's a nice old gentleman, but a bit peculiar, I think.”
Constable Copper seemed quite light-hearted over the matter. He seemed to think little of it as an offense—a couple of quid would cover it. He did not, perhaps, appreciate fully the light and shade of the situation—a J.P. and Member of the Athenaeum and of the Society of Antiquaries brought up for poaching in company with an evil character named Horn. Neither did Simon, whom they found seated on the side of the table in the Coppers' sitting room, talking to Mrs. Copper, who was wrapped in a shawl.
He went back to the hotel with them rather silent, but not depressed. He tried, indeed, to talk and laugh over the affair. This was the last straw and Bobby burst out, giving him a “jawing” complete and of the first pattern. Then they saw him to bed and put out the light.
At breakfast he was quite himself again and the summons which arrived at eleven o'clock was not shown to him. No one knew of the affair, with the exception of the whole village, all the hotel servants, Bobby, and Mudd.
The distracted Mudd spent the morning walking about; hither and thither, trying to collect his wits and make a plan. Simon had given his name, of course, though, indeed, it did not matter much, as he was a resident at the hotel. It was impossible to deport him or move him or pretend he was ill. Nothing was possible but the bench of magistrates, Colonel Salmon presiding, and publicity.
At half past eleven or quarter to twelve Mudd sent the despairing message to Oppenshaw; then he collapsed into a cold sort of resignation, with hot fits at times.
At four o'clock that day a carriage drove up to the hotel and two gentlemen alighted. They were shown into the coffee room and Mudd was sent for. He came, expecting to find police officers, and found Brownlow and Mr. Tidd.
“One moment, Mr. Tidd,” said Brownlow. Then he took Mudd outside into the hall.
“He's not fit to be seen,” said Mudd, when the other had explained. “No client must see him. He's right enough to look at and speak to, but he's not himself. What made you bring him here, Mr. Brownlow, now of all times?”
The sound of a child screaming in the garden came just then, stabbing the peace of the hotel. It made Brownlow start and turn. Mr. Tidd had opened the door and how much of their conversation he had heard, Heaven knows.
“I will wait no longer,” said Mr. Tidd. “This must be explained. Is Mr. Pettigrew here, or is he not? No, I will not wait.”
Brownlow tried to get in front of Tidd to round him off from the garden. Mudd tried to take his arm. He pushed them aside.