Page 307 - A Jacobite Exile

"These were found by the officers sent to arrest my father. He and his five
friends managed to escape, but their estates were forfeited. Of course, what

we want to prove is the connection between this spy and his employer,
who, for his services in bringing this supposed plot to light, received as a

reward my father's estates. There is no way of doing this, unless this man
can be brought to confess his own villainy in the matter of the letters, and
to denounce the scoundrel whose agent he was. Probably, by this time, he

has got nearly all he can expect from his employer, and will at least feel no
scruples in exposing him, if by so doing he can save his own neck.

"Now, we have not only discovered the man, but have found out that he is a
notorious highwayman, and the leader of a gang; but more, I have found

out the day and hour on which he proposes to stop and rob the North
coach."

"Well, Mr. Carstairs, if you have done that," the man said, "you have done
marvels. That you should find the man might be a piece of good luck, but

that you should have learned all this about him seems to me wonderful."

"It was a lucky accident, altogether. We saw him, watched him, and
managed to overhear a conversation from which we gathered these facts. It
was all simple enough. Of course, our idea is that we should, if possible,

catch him in the act of robbing the coach, bind and take charge of him,
saying that we should hand him over to justice, when the coachman and

passengers would, of course, appear to testify against him. Instead of doing
this, we should take him somewhere, and then give him the option of either
making a clean breast of the whole story, and remaining in our custody

until called upon to testify to his statement in a court of justice, whenever
required; or of being handed over to the authorities, to be tried and hung as

a highwayman.

"One of our greatest difficulties is how to effect his capture. The attack will

be made at night on the coach, and in the darkness we might shoot him, or
he might get away. He is at present in London, at a lodging in a street

behind the Abbey, where, doubtless, his real profession is altogether
unsuspected by the people of the house.