brought it uppermost, that with my host’s assent I one day mounted beside Jehu, and was soon in possession of the following story, which I prefer giving in his own words:—
“How I came to know my master, was this way, sir. I had managed to scrape enough together, by hook or by crook, to start a cab; and one day that I hadn’t had a fare for many a long hour, I thought I might as well go and have a glass along with the others, for there were lots of cabs in the rank before me, and but little chance of doing anything. Somehow, however, I did not like to throw that little away, so I set to work instead, to rub up my cab, and was just hanging the nose-bag round Barty’s neck, when up comes a gentleman asking if my horse is fresh.”
“‘Fresh enough for a dozen miles, sir,’ said I: and looking round, saw it was a servant in handsome claret-coloured livery; and a very tight, long, uncomfortable suit it looked too.
“‘Just about the distance I want him for,’ said he.
“So in he got, and I jumped on the box and drove off in the best of spirits. Wasn’t I glad then I hadn’t gone to the public? When we got to No.—, Queen Street, May Fair, he got out, and let himself into the house with a latch-key, telling me to wait.
“And I did wait, long enough, walking up and down, and patting old Barty, counting up my fare, and promising him a good feed, till I was sick of waiting. At last, however, the door opened, and I went and stood by the cab door, when up comes my claret-coloured gentleman, and twirls me round like a top, though I ain’t a very little one, but it was so unexpected-like.
“‘Mount your box; that’s all that’s required of you,’ says he, low and fierce.
“I didn’t much like it, but that claret suit didn’t deceive me, and I thought I’d best do as I was told.
“As quick as lightning he brought a lady out of the house, and placed her in the cab. Another lady assisted him, and, between them, they half carried her.
“Having told me to drive to Wimbledon, and to drive slowly, as the lady was ill, he got inside, and off we started.
“This would all have seemed natural enough, if I had not caught a glimpse of the lady’s face as they hurried her in. It wore a haggard, stupefied look, and I began not to like my job at all, when just as I was making up my mind it was no business of mine, I heard such a long piteous scream proceed from the cab, and, pulling up Barty, I was getting down to see what was the matter, when out pops the head of Mr. Claret-Suit, and says he, ‘What’s in the wind now? Did you never hear a mad woman scream before? Drive to “The Retreat,” at Wimbledon, and let us have no more of your shilly-shallying nonsense.’
“Well, I drove on, anything but satisfied, till at last we reached ‘The Retreat.’ The poor lady was carried in. And I had no reason to complain of my fare. But never had I felt more uncomfortable in all my life.
“I stood there I don’t know how long, like one in a dream, till, finding there was really nothing to be done, and perhaps (I tried hard to think) nothing wrong at all, I was about to drive off, when, looking in to settle the cushions, I caught a glimpse of something white sticking out from between them; and if it had been a 20l. note, I don’t believe I should have been better pleased than when I saw a letter directed ‘To the driver of this cab.’
“I was not long reading it, you may be sure, though I took care to turn the corner first; and this was written in it:—
“‘They will tell you I am mad, when you are hired to take me to some asylum. It is not true. They want to hide me from my husband, whom they falsely accuse of having deserted me. But for the love of Heaven, and for the sake of my yet unborn child, I implore you to deliver the inclosed letter to Mr. Stenthorpe, No.—, Eaton Square. Do not, I entreat, trust it to other hands. No one is to be trusted. Perhaps this appeal will be in vain. No, I will not believe it. I shall live in hope. If only they don’t drug me as before, and frustrate this last chance. Never mind your time and trouble, he will repay you amply. May Heaven mould your heart to help me!’
“‘That will I, in right good earnest,’ said I, ‘now I know the way.’
“And getting us both a feed, Barty and me, I drove straight to Eaton Square. The lackey yawned as he opened the door; and to my inquiry for speech with his master, asked my business. This, of course, I refused, saying I must see him myself.
“‘You had better take a seat, then,’ said he.
“‘And you,’ I said, ‘will mind my cab?’
“‘Oh, with much pleasure; but—the seat I recommend to you is—outside.’
“I walked back to my cab, wishing myself a little brighter, to be even with the fellow, and not liking to give it up, when, by and by, he opens the door.
“‘Well, friend,’ he says, ‘are you going to tell me your business? or do you mean to stay there all day?’
“‘I must see Mr. Stenthorpe myself,’ said I.
“‘And you mean to stay there till you do, eh?’
“‘I do,’ I said, firmly, getting downright provoked with the man’s impertinence.
“‘I recommend you to get inside, then,’ said he. ‘We may have a cold winter, and Mr. Stenthorpe is in the Crimea.’
“‘Oh, Heaven!’ cried I, ‘then she will be lost.’
“To do the man justice, the moment he saw it was something of consequence, he dropped all his foolery, and told me civilly enough that his master had gone off that morning to join the Bellerophon, at Gravesend, on his way to the Crimea.
“I grudged the time necessary to go home, and tell my wife, but there was no help for it. I put up my cab, and in a couple of hours was on board the Bellerophon, which I was lucky enough to find still at anchor. Mr. Stenthorpe, however, was not there, though he was expected every minute, as the vessel was about to sail almost immediately.
“Well, I waited and waited, till at last orders were given for all strangers to leave the ship. I was regularly cut up. When, at the last minute, up comes a boat alongside, and a gentleman springs on board.
