The History of Samuel Titmarsh, and The Great Hoggarty Diamond Part 2

per month, as Roundhand had; but I've a notion that Hoskins and I, blowing duets on the flute together in our second floor in Salisbury Square, were a great deal more at ease than our head--and more _in harmony_, too; though we made sad work of the music, certainly.

One day Gus Hoskins and I asked leave from Roundhand to be off at three o'clock, as we had _particular business_ at the West End. He knew it was about the great Hoggarty diamond, and gave us permission; so off we set.

When we reached St. Martin's Lane, Gus got a cigar, to give himself as it were a _distingue_ air, and pulled at it all the way up the Lane, and through the alleys into Coventry Street, where Mr. Polonius's shop is, as everybody knows.

The door was open, and a number of carriages full of ladies were drawing up and setting down. Gus kept his hands in his pockets--trousers were worn very full then, with large tucks, and pigeon-holes for your boots, or Bluchers, to come through (the fas.h.i.+onables wore boots, but we chaps in the City, on 80_l_. a year, contented ourselves with Bluchers); and as Gus stretched out his pantaloons as wide as he could from his hips, and kept blowing away at his cheroot, and clamping with the iron heels of his boots, and had very large whiskers for so young a man, he really looked quite the genteel thing, and was taken by everybody to be a person of consideration.

He would not come into the shop though, but stood staring at the gold pots and kettles in the window outside. I went in; and after a little hemming and hawing--for I had never been at such a fas.h.i.+onable place before--asked one of the gentlemen to let me speak to Mr. Polonius.

"What can I do for you, sir?" says Mr. Polonius, who was standing close by, as it happened, serving three ladies,--a very old one and two young ones, who were examining pearl necklaces very attentively.

"Sir," said I, producing my jewel out of my coat-pocket, "this jewel has, I believe, been in your house before: it belonged to my aunt, Mrs.

Hoggarty, of Castle Hoggarty." The old lady standing near looked round as I spoke.

"I sold her a gold neck-chain and repeating watch in the year 1795," said Mr. Polonius, who made it a point to recollect everything; "and a silver punch-ladle to the Captain. How is the Major--Colonel--General--eh, sir?"

"The General," said I, "I am sorry to say"--though I was quite proud that this man of fas.h.i.+on should address me so.--"Mr. Hoggarty is--no more. My aunt has made me a present, however, of this--this trinket--which, as you see, contains her husband's portrait, that I will thank you, sir, to preserve for me very carefully; and she wishes that you would set this diamond neatly."

"Neatly and handsomely, of course, sir."

"Neatly, in the present fas.h.i.+on; and send down the account to her. There is a great deal of gold about the trinket, for which, of course, you will make an allowance."

"To the last fraction of a sixpence," says Mr. Polonius, bowing, and looking at the jewel. "It's a wonderful piece of goods, certainly," said he; "though the diamond's a neat little bit, certainly. Do, my Lady, look at it. The thing is of Irish manufacture, bears the stamp of '95, and will recall perhaps the times of your Ladys.h.i.+p's earliest youth."

"Get ye out, Mr. Polonius!" said the old lady, a little wizen-faced old lady, with her face puckered up in a million of wrinkles. "How _dar_ you, sir, to talk such nonsense to an old woman like me? Wasn't I fifty years old in '95, and a grandmother in '96?" She put out a pair of withered trembling hands, took up the locket, examined it for a minute, and then burst out laughing: "As I live, it's the great Hoggarty diamond!"

Good heavens! what was this talisman that had come into my possession?

"Look, girls," continued the old lady: "this is the great jew'l of all Ireland. This red-faced man in the middle is poor Mick Hoggarty, a cousin of mine, who was in love with me in the year '84, when I had just lost your poor dear grandpapa. These thirteen sthreamers of red hair represent his thirteen celebrated sisters,--Biddy, Minny, Thedy, Widdy (short for Williamina), Freddy, Izzy, Tizzy, Mysie, Grizzy, Polly, Dolly, Nell, and Bell--all married, all ugly, and all carr'ty hair. And of which are you the son, young man?--though, to do you justice, you're not like the family."

Two pretty young ladies turned two pretty pairs of black eyes at me, and waited for an answer: which they would have had, only the old lady began rattling on a hundred stories about the thirteen ladies above named, and all their lovers, all their disappointments, and all the duels of Mick Hoggarty. She was a chronicle of fifty-years-old scandal. At last she was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing; at the conclusion of which Mr. Polonius very respectfully asked me where he should send the pin, and whether I would like the hair kept.

"No," says I, "never mind the hair."

"And the pin, sir?"

I had felt ashamed about telling my address: "But, bang it!" thought I, "why _should_ I?--

'A king can make a belted knight, A marquess, duke, and a' that; An honest man's abune his might-- Gude faith, he canna fa' that.'

Why need I care about telling these ladies where I live?"

"Sir," says I, "have the goodness to send the parcel, when done, to Mr.

t.i.tmarsh, No. 3 Bell Lane, Salisbury Square, near St. Bride's Church, Fleet Street. Ring, if you please, the two-pair bell."

"_What_, sir?" said Mr. Polonius.

"_Hwat_!" shrieked the old lady. "Mr. Hwat? Mais, ma chere, c'est impayable. Come along--here's the carr'age! Give me your arm, Mr. Hwat, and get inside, and tell me all about your thirteen aunts."

She seized on my elbow and hobbled through the shop as fast as possible; the young ladies following her, laughing.

"Now, jump in, do you hear?" said she, poking her sharp nose out of the window.

"I can't, ma'am," says I; "I have a friend."

"Pooh, pooh! send 'um to the juice, and jump in!" And before almost I could say a word, a great powdered fellow in yellow-plush breeches pushed me up the steps and banged the door to.

I looked just for one minute as the barouche drove away at Hoskins, and never shall forget his figure. There stood Gus, his mouth wide open, his eyes staring, a smoking cheroot in his hand, wondering with all his might at the strange thing that had just happened to me.

"Who _is_ that t.i.tmarsh?" says Gus: "there's a coronet on the carriage, by Jingo!"

CHAPTER III

HOW THE POSSESSOR OF THE DIAMOND IS WHISKED INTO A MAGNIFICENT CHARIOT, AND HAS YET FURTHER GOOD LUCK

I sat on the back seat of the carriage, near a very nice young lady, about my dear Mary's age--that is to say, seventeen and three-quarters; and opposite us sat the old Countess and her other grand-daughter--handsome too, but ten years older. I recollect I had on that day my blue coat and bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, nankeen trousers, a white sprig waist-coat, and one of Dando's silk hats, that had just come in in the year '22, and looked a great deal more glossy than the best beaver.

"And who was that hidjus manster"--that was the way her Ladys.h.i.+p p.r.o.nounced,--"that ojous vulgar wretch, with the iron heels to his boots, and the big mouth, and the imitation goold neck-chain, who _steered_ at us so as we got into the carriage?"

How she should have known that Gus's chain was mosaic I can't tell; but so it was, and we had bought it for five-and-twenty and sixpence only the week before at M'Phail's, in St. Paul's Churchyard. But I did not like to hear my friend abused, and so spoke out for him--

"Ma'am," says I, "that young gentleman's name is Augustus Hoskins. We live together; and a better or more kind-hearted fellow does not exist."

"You are quite right to stand up for your friends, sir," said the second lady; whose name, it appears, was Lady Jane, but whom the grandmamma called Lady Jene.

"Well, upon me conscience, so he is now, Lady Jene; and I like sper't in a young man. So his name is Hoskins, is it? I know, my dears, all the Hoskinses in England. There are the Lincolns.h.i.+re Hoskinses, the Shrops.h.i.+re Hoskinses: they say the Admiral's daughter, Bell, was in love with a black footman, or boatswain, or some such thing; but the world's so censorious. There's old Doctor Hoskins of Bath, who attended poor dear Drum in the quinsy; and poor dear old Fred Hoskins, the gouty General: I remember him as thin as a lath in the year '84, and as active as a harlequin, and in love with me--oh, how he was in love with me!"

"You seem to have had a host of admirers in those days, Grandmamma?" said Lady Jane.

"Hundreds, my dear,--hundreds of thousands. I was the toast of Bath, and a great beauty, too: would you ever have thought it now, upon your conscience and without flattery, Mr.-a-What-d'ye-call-'im?"

"Indeed, ma'am, I never should," I answered, for the old lady was as ugly as possible; and at my saying this the two young ladies began screaming with laughter, and I saw the two great-whiskered footmen grinning over the back of the carriage.

"Upon my word, you're mighty candid, Mr. What's-your-name--mighty candid indeed; but I like candour in young people. But a beauty I was. Just ask your friend's uncle the General. He's one of the Lincolns.h.i.+re Hoskinses--I knew he was by the strong family likeness. Is he the eldest son? It's a pretty property, though sadly enc.u.mbered; for old Sir George was the divvle of a man--a friend of Hanbury Williams, and Lyttleton, and those horrid, monstrous, ojous people! How much will he have now, mister, when the Admiral dies?"

"Why, ma'am, I can't say; but the Admiral is not my friend's father."

"Not his father?--but he _is_, I tell you, and I'm never wrong. Who is his father, then?"

"Ma'am, Gus's father's a leatherseller in Skinner Street, Snow Hill,--a very respectable house, ma'am. But Gus is only third son, and so can't expect a great share in the property."

The two young ladies smiled at this--the old lady said, "Hwat?"

"I like you, sir," Lady Jane said, "for not being ashamed of your friends, whatever their rank of life may be. Shall we have the pleasure of setting you down anywhere, Mr. t.i.tmarsh?"

"Noways particular, my Lady," says I. "We have a holiday at our office to-day--at least Roundhand gave me and Gus leave; and I shall be very happy, indeed, to take a drive in the Park, if it's no offence."