An Experiment in Treason Read Online Free PDF Page B

that room at the top of the stairs wherein Sir John and his Lady slept. I wondered, would they emerge in the next moment or two and save us from this awkward moment.
    But then Clarissa did rouse herself and announce — to me, in particular:
    “I did not have the opportunity to finish my story last night.”
    “Ah,” said I, “so you did not. What more have you to tell?”
    “Simply this,” said she. “I told Sir John when we left the grand residence in Whitehall that, in my judgment, Lord Hillsborough had not said a single word of truth all the time we had him before us.”
    “And how did Sir John react to that statement?” asked I.
    “Oh, he jested with me. ‘Not a single word?’ said he. ‘Surely something. Not even — oh, what do they call them? — the articles and the conjunctions?’ Yet I stuck by what I said, even though I was forced to admit that Lord Hillsborough had neither sweated nor gone shifty-eyed.”
    “What then did you tell Sir John made you so sure?”
    “It was his arrogance,” said Clarissa. “He is that rare sort of liar who is so well-practiced at it that he tells lies as readily as the rest of us tell the truth. He feels neither worry nor guilt as we might. Yet, I must confess, I base this on naught but my feminine intuition. So I told him.”
    “And what was Sir John’s reaction to that?” I asked her.
    “Oh, again he jested, yet more in earnest than before, I believe. ‘Tells lies readily? Feels neither worry nor guilt?’ said Sir John, ‘why, I believe you’ve found him out for what he is — a. poUtLclan!’ And at that he laughed in quite the most jolly manner.”
    By then I, too, was laughing — though a bit loud and lusty, I fear.
    Next we knew, a knock came upon the door, hard and insistent, like that of one of the constables — and so it turned out to be. The laughter all of a sudden died in my throat, and I jumped up from my place at the table to open the door. It was none but Mr. Baker, jailer and armorer of the Bow Street Runners.
    “Ah, Jeremy,” said he. “The Lord Chief Justice, so I am told, requested the presence of Sir John and does so most urgently — so urgently that he’s sent his coach-and-four to get him there quick.”
    “When will it be here?” I asked. “I’m not certain that he’s yet awake.”
    “When? Well, it’s down there in Bow Street right this minute, so you’d better get him up and let him know.”
    Having delivered his message, he gave me a wave and descended the stairs. I eased the door shut and called out, “Better make another pot of tea.” Then did I rush up the stairs and pound upon the door to Sir John’s bedroom.
    The Lord Chief Justice was William Murray, Lord Mansfield. As such, he was nominally in charge of the administration of justice throughout the realm. This often put him in direct contact with Sir John, who as the magistrate of the Bow Street Court, settled disputes, sat in judgment upon lesser crimes and misdemeanors, and, after weighing evidence, bound over for trial in the higher court those charged with high crimes and felonies. Sir John’s abihties and his reputation did exceed his office, and therefore Lord Mansfield often sought him out for advice and counsel and to undertake special missions for the Court. Thus had I traveled hither and thither throughout England in his company, visiting cities as far afield as Bath. Though naturally I said nothing of it, it was my hope that this sudden summons from Lord Mansfield would entail a trip of some sort to distant parts; for, reader, I must confess that I did greatly enjoy travel.
    I wore my best. Once I had made Sir John presentable, I hied up quickly to my room and changed into the breeches and coat which Lady Fielding had just bought for me (complaining that if I would just stop growing, I would not need my store of clothes to be constantly replenished). Why did I feel it necessary to dress my best when I would more likely than not be given no notice