"No intimidation; no treating; no bribery; manœuvre as skilfully as you can; and watch the enemy night and day, so that the close of the poll may not be the close of the election, nor the victor there, the sitting member."
To the novel, arduous, and cheerless duty, defined by this despatch from headquarters, Mr. Crafty immediately addressed all his energies; and, after carefully reconnoitring his position, unpromising as it was, he did not despair of success. All his own voters had been gained, upon the whole, fairly. The thirty-six new ones had been undoubtedly under considerable influence, of an almost inevitable kind indeed—inasmuch as they consisted of persons principally employed in the way of business by Lord De la Zouch, and by many of his friends and neighbors, all of whom were of his Lordship's way of political thinking. Every one of the twenty-three tenants had given a spontaneous and cordial promise; and the seventy "accessibles" had been gained, after a very earnest and persevering canvass, by Mr. Delamere, in company with others who had a pretty decisive, but still a legitimate influence over them. The remaining twenty might, possibly, though not probably, be secured by equally unobjectionable means. That being the state of things with Delamere, how stood matters with Mr. Titmouse? First and foremost, the Quaint Club had been bought at ten pounds a-head, by Gammon—that was all certain. Crafty would also have bought them like a flock of sheep, had he been allowed, and would have managed matters most effectually and secretly; yet not more so than he found Mr. Gammon had succeeded in doing; at all events, as far as that gentleman himself, personally, was concerned. In fact, he had foiled Mr. Crafty, when that astute person looked about in search of legal evidence of what had been done. Still, however, he did not despair of being able to perform a series manœuvres which should secure one of the ends he most wished, in respect even of the Quaint Club. With equal good intentions, but actuated by a zeal that was not according to knowledge, some of Mr. Gammon's coadjutors had not imitated his circumspection. Quite unknown to him, one or two of them had most fearfully committed him, themselves, and Mr. Titmouse; giving Mr. Gammon such accounts of their doings as should serve only to secure his applause for their tact and success. Before Mr. Crafty, however, they stood detected as blundering novices in the art of electioneering. A small tinker and brazier at Warkleigh had received, with a wink, ten pounds from a member of Mr. Titmouse's committee! in payment of an old outstanding account—Heaven save the mark!—delivered in by him, three years before, for mending pots, kettles, and sauce-pans, in the time of—the Aubreys! The wife of a tailor at Grilston received the same sum for a fine tomcat, which was a natural curiosity, since it could wink each eye separately and successively. A third worthy and independent voter was reminded that he had lent the applicant for his vote ten pounds several years before, and which that gentleman now took shame to himself, as he paid the amount, for having so long allowed to remain unpaid. Mr. Barnabas Bloodsuck, with superior astuteness, gave three pounds a-piece to three little boys, sons of a voter, whose workshop overlooked Messrs. Bloodsucks' back offices, on condition that they would desist from their trick of standing and putting their thumbs to their noses and extending their fingers towards him, as he sat in his office, and which had really become an insupportable nuisance. Here was, therefore, a valuable consideration for the payment, and bribery was out of the question! Such are samples of the ingenious devices which had been resorted to, in order to secure some thirty or forty votes! In short, Mr. Crafty caught them tripping in at least eleven clear, unquestionable cases of bribery, each supported by unimpeachable evidence, and each sufficing to avoid the election, to disqualify Mr. Titmouse from sitting in that Parliament for Yatton, and to subject both him and his agents to a ruinous amount of penalties. Then, again, there were clear indications either of a disposition to set at defiance the stringent provisions of the law against TREATING, or of an ignorance of their existence. And as for freedom of election, scarcely ten of his tenants gave him a willing vote, or otherwise than upon compulsion, and after threats of raised rents or expulsion from farms. Tied as were Mr. Crafty's hands, the Quaint Club became a perfect eyesore to him. He found means, however, to open a secret and confidential communication with them, and resolved to hold out to them dazzling but indistinct hopes of pecuniary advantage from the regions of Fotheringham. His emissary soon got hold of the redoubtable Ben Bran, who, truth to say, had long been on the look-out for indications of the desired sort, from the other side. As Bran was late one evening walking slowly alone along the high-road leading to York, he was accosted by a genteel-looking person, who spoke in a low tone, and whom Bran now recollected to have seen, or spoken to, before. "Can you tell me where lies the gold mine?" said the stranger; "at Fotheringham, or Yatton?"—and the speaker looked round, apprehensive of being overheard. Ben pricked up his ears, and soon got into conversation with the mysterious stranger; in the course of which the latter threw out, in a very significant manner, that "a certain peer could never be supposed to send a certain near relative into the field, in order that that relative might be beaten, … and especially for want of a few pounds; and besides, my friend, when only …—eh?—…—the other side"–
"Why, who are you? Where do you come from?" inquired Ben, with a violent start.
"Dropped out of the—moon," was the quiet and smiling answer.
"Then I must say they know a precious deal," replied Ben, after a troubled pause, "up there, of what's going on down here."
"To be sure, everything; everything!"… Here the stranger told Ben the precise sum which the club had received from Mr. Gammon.
"Are we both—gentlemen?" inquired the stranger, earnestly.
"Y—e—e—s, I hope so, sir," replied Ben Bran, hesitatingly.
"And men of business—men of our word?"
"Honor among thieves—ay, ay," answered Ben, in a still lower tone, and very eagerly.
"Then let you and me meet alone, this time to-morrow, at Darkling Edge; and by that time, do you see, turn this over in your mind," here the stranger twice held up both his hands, with outstretched thumbs and fingers. "Sure we understand each other?" he added. Ben nodded, and they were presently out of sight of each other. The stranger immediately pulled off his green spectacles, and also a pair of gray whiskers, and put both of them into his pocket. If any one attempted to dog him, he must have been led a pretty round! 'Twas in consequence of this interview that Ben made the application to Gammon, which had so disturbed him, and which has been already described. And to return to our friend: what was he to do? On entering the library at the Hall, he opened a secret drawer in his desk, and took out a thin slip of paper which he had deposited there that morning, it having been then received by him from town, marked "Private and Confidential," and franked "Blossom and Box." 'Twas but a line, and written in a bold hand, but in evident haste; for it had in fact been penned by Lord Blossom and Box while he was sitting in the Court of Chancery. This is a copy of it:—
"The election must be won. You will hear from E– by this post. Don't address any note to me.
With this great man, Lord Chancellor Blossom and Box, when plain Mr. Quicksilver, Mr. Gammon had had a pretty familiar acquaintance, as the reader may easily suppose; and had a natural desire to acquit himself creditably in the eyes of so distinguished and powerful a personage. Gammon had volunteered an assurance to his Lordship, shortly before leaving town, that the election was safe, and in his (Gammon's) hands; guess, then, his chagrin and fury at finding the systematic and determined opposition which had suddenly sprung up against him; and the intensity of his desire to defeat it. And the more anxious he was on this score, the more vividly he perceived the necessity