Smuggler's Moon

this might be the moment to raise this embarrassing matter of the implied promise of consideration made to Mr. Henry Curtin. Yet soon as it had entered my mind, I dismissed it: no, this was emphatically not the right moment. I recognized that, after all, I should have to confess to him what had been done and said, embarrassing though it be, but with him now in this odd state of upset, the matter could and should wait.

The hackney driver reined in the horses before the residence of William Murray, Earl of Mansfield, the Lord Chief Justice. It was an imposing structure by any standard, the largest of any of the grand houses in the square. As I paid the driver, Sir John sought to find his bearings that he might reach the front door without assistance. Alas, he could not. He wandered, looking somewhat befuddled, awaiting my assistance.

By the time I caught him up, the door to the residence had opened, and there stood two men, obviously saying their goodbyes. One of them I recognized immediately as Lord Mansfield; the second I had never seen before. Both seemed to catch sight of Sir John at the same time; it was Lord Mansfield, however, who waved to him.

“Sir John!” he called out. ”How fortunate you’ve come!”

They were together in a moment’s time; Lord Mansfield introduced him to George Eccles, who had just been taking his leave. Mr. Eccles, it seemed, was Chief Customs Officer for eastern Kent. He explained that he would be unable to stay longer, much as he would like to, for he had, at the last moment, been given an appointment with the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

”And it’s either take it when it is offered or wait a week or a month for another bit of time to come open.”

“Never having had dealings direct with the Chancellor of the Exchequer,” said Sir John, ”I must take your word for it, but from what I have heard, Mr. Eccles, I can well imagine your difficulty.”

“Though I should like to stay on and explain the situation to you, I cannot. Yet in any practical way, it is of no matter, for Lord Mansfield here has all the details-at least all those which do pertain to the judiciary’s part of the problem.”

“Oh?” said Sir John. ”And what is the problem?”

“I shall explain it all,” said the Lord Chief Justice.

“Very well, Lord Mansfield, I shall look forward to a more complete explanation from you.”

Taking that as the proper moment to depart, Mr. Eccles inclined his head sharply in a precise little bow, seemed to wait for Sir John’s answering bob of the head, and then scampered off to claim the hackney in which we had arrived from Bow Street. Somewhere between the door of Lord Mansfield’s residence and the door to the coach, he called out a goodbye. I did not like the fellow.

“Was I tardy?” Sir John asked Lord Mansfield.

“By no means,” said the Chief Justice. ”I was given to understand that he wished to come and discuss a matter at length. As it happened, I had the day without cases, and so I was willing to devote the entire afternoon to it. That was how I framed my invitation to you, was it not?”

“Yes, but for some reason, about half an hour past I suddenly felt a great sense of urgency in getting over here.”

“Hmmm,” said Lord Mansfield, looking at him a bit queerly, ”that would probably have been about the time that he arrived. He came in, blurted out an accusation, and explained that he must get on to an appointment with the Chancellor of the Exchequer. He certainly lets one know where he stands in relative importance to members of the government, does he not?”

“Yes, I see what you mean.”

This brief conversation took place at the open door to the residence. It concluded there when the host offered an invitation to ”come along to my study, and we shall talk this matter through.”

We entered, and the butler-my old adversary-closed the door after us and then brought us to the study. The Lord Chief Justice seemed quite content to allow him to lead the way, which struck me as odd. Was he unsure of its location? The butler stood aside at the open double door of the study. He frowned at me as I passed him by. It was a look which to me did say, ”They seem to want you inside, and so there is naught I can do to keep you out, and yet if it were left up to me …” He closed the doors after us; that is, he must have, for next I looked at them they were shut-though I had heard not a sound. Ah, butlers! How do they manage?

“Sit down, Sir John,” said Lord Mansfield. ”I daresay we shall have more to talk about now that Eccles is gone than if he were here.”

I guided Sir John to a chair, and once he was settled, I looked round for one for myself.

“Your young fellow can take notes if you like,” said the Chief Justice. ”I’ll provide paper and pen.”

“Should it be necessary?”

“There are a few names to remember.”

“Oh, I’m good at names,” said Sir John. ”Numbers are sometimes a bit of a problem. But let us begin. I assume the problem to which he referred is smuggling.”

The Lord Chief Justice looked up, an expression of surprise upon his face. ”How did you guess that?”

“Ah well, simple enough. Our friend Eccles is Chief Customs Officer for east Kent. Customs means import duties, which smugglers evade. And of course east Kent has the most active smuggling trade of any part of England, for it lies just opposite France.”

“Well … quite right.”

“And he is now on his way to see the Chancellor of the Exchequer, no doubt, to ask for more money to combat the trade,” said Sir John. ”But indeed the truth is, it is the Chancellor of the Exchequer who caused the problem to begin with-his exorbitant import duties, taxes and so on. Tea and wine are taxed at over double their value, are they not?”

“Yes … I suppose they are. But see here, Sir John, we’ve been at war for a good part of the time for as long as I can remember. We’ve gone in debt. Money must be raised in some way to retire that debt.”

“And each time they raise the import duties, smuggling increases.”

“That is true,” said Lord Mansfield, ”but smuggling must be stamped out. It is a simple matter of enforcing the law, is it not?”

“Smuggling will never be stamped out, so long as import duties continue so high.”

The Lord Chief Justice sighed and said nothing for a goodly space of time. He simply studied Sir John, perhaps trying to suppose some means to dissuade him from his contrary position. Apparently there was none.

But then the magistrate did clear his throat and speak up once more: ”I have an addendum to that which I have just said-an alternative.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Either import duties be lowered, or…”

“Yes?”

“Those of the aristocracy and the nobility refuse to buy what they know to be contraband goods.”

“How would they recognize contraband from what has entered legally? Both may carry the proper stamp, or something forged to look quite like it.”

”True enough, but smuggled goods are luxury goods-perfume, tobacco, wine, all of that. Persuade those who can afford them to forgo such pleasures, and you will have solved the problem.”

Lord Mansfield regarded him with dismay. ”I thought for a moment that you were being serious. I shall know better next time.”

“I was being serious-or at least I was trying to make a serious point. And that, Lord Mansfield, is that there is no practical likelihood of reducing smuggling in east Kent, or in any other part of England-not now, in any case.”

“Mr. George Eccles says otherwise.”

“He would, wouldn’t he?” said Sir John. ”I did not like the man, you know, rather a self-important sort.”

“That may be, and for that matter I did not like him, either. Nevertheless, I fear we must take what he says seriously.”

“And what has he to say?” Sir John put it to him as a sort of challenge. ”There was something about an accusation, was there not?”

“Indeed there was-and a very serious one it is. According to Eccles, nothing of substance can be done to