An Experiment in Treason Read Free

intimidated.
    “Yes, well, Dr. Franklin kept his spyglass on the beach there at the point, and he saw no change either. I was … just hoping …”
    “I fear not.”
    “There was a good piece of water between the barge and the longboat that smoothed out proper,” Dr. Lee volunteered.
    “Well … good — but there was no change on the beach where we were,” Mr. Donnelly said.
    “Yes, but I’m staying on here. I’ll be returning with Dr. Franklin. He is weighing the possibility of attempting the experiment a second time.”
    “And what about us?”
    “You can take the hire coach back. Just explain to them that I’m remaining. It’s all taken care of.”
    (Frankly, I was pleased, reader, for I had no wish to return with Lee, having earlier been so sharply corrected by him.)
    “Well, all right,” said Mr. Donnelly to Lee. I could tell he was not pleased. “Stay if you must. We’ll be leaving shortly, I suppose. It was an honor to participate in the experiment, even in a minor role. We thank you for that.”
    “What? Oh yes, certainly.” He returned to his seat in the bum-boat and signaled to the boatman that he might proceed. “Good-bye to you then, Mr. Donnelly. I daresay I shall be seeing you soon in London.” He waved as the boat pulled away,
    “Well, Jeremy,” said Mr. Donnelly with a sigh, “it seems that we are on our own.”
    “It does indeed. Shall we then hasten to claim our coach lest it be taken by some of those who watched with us on the beach?”
    “That seems to me an excellent suggestion.”
    And so, up the hill we went to the George, and there we separated. I went to collect our bags from the room and Mr. Donnelly lo settle up at the desk for our stay. I returned to find him, red-faced, in loud conversation with the driver of the coach. I perceived at once that this was no ordinary disagreement but a proper battle, involving the driver, Donnelly, and a third party, Arthur Lee, not physically present yet perhaps the cause of it all.
    “Jeremy, do you know what this fellow tells me?”
    “Let me guess. That all has not been taken care of as regards the return fare to be paid for this coach-for-hire.”
    “Exactly. And the worst of it is, I’m inclined to believe the coachman rather than Lee.”
    “Well, thank God for that, sir,” said the driver to Mr. Donnelly, “for I ain’t the sort to go chargin’ a man for what’s already been paid. But I tell you fair, the way back just ain’t been paid — not by him, not by anybody. What I was told by Mr. — what’s his name? ‘
    “Lee, Arthur Lee.”
    “That’s right. That’s him. What Mr. Lee said was, ‘Here’s for the trip down to Portsmouth. I ain’t sure I’ll be making it back with you, but the gent who’ll be traveling down with me certain’y will. You can get the fare to London from him.”
    “There was never any hint given to me of such an arrangement.”
    “Oh, I believe you, sir, and if I understand your remark to the lad here a-right, you believe me, as well. That’s a good start for workin’ out some sort of a deal, wouldn’t you say so?”
    “Well yes, I suppose I would,” said Mr. Donnelly after a moment’s careful consideration. “What sort of a deal did you have in mind?”
    And with that began a session of hard bargaining there in the lobby of the George, which must have lasted near ten minutes. Gabriel Donnelly was, as Sir John had often said, one Irishman who was as tight with a shilling as any Scotsman. He demonstrated it then and there as he haggled histrionically, at one point offering to walk to London rather than pay such an exorbitant fare. (I hoped sincerely that it would not come to that.) For his part, the coachman was equally dramatic. He alternated demanding with pleading in a manner quite outrageous. He shouted dramatically that he had a wife and children and would not see them starve with such an offer as Mr. Donnelly had put forth. “Have you no conscience, sir?” (This, I’m