Nothing but Money! CHAPTER 12.
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On his way, in custody of an officer, to the magistrate's, Doctor Hofland ran over, in his mind, a number of people to whom, in his trouble, he might venture to apply for bail. At first thought, he felt the assurance of a troop of friends. But, doubts obtruded as to one, and pride shrunk from the humiliation of an application to another; so, that by the time he was at the office, he was in a state of painful confusion of mind.
"Will you give bail?" asked the magistrate, after rendering a judgment; for the account had been sworn to, and the Doctor, besides, acknowledged its correctness.
"Of course I will; but such matters are difficult to arrange at night. In the morning, I will bring my security."
"It must be had tonight, sir." The officer spoke to the magistrate. "My instructions are positive."
"Who gave them?" The Doctor turned sharply upon the officer.
"The plaintiff gave them, and we have no discretion."
"The Doctor is an honorable man, Thomas," said the magistrate, interposing.
"I don't doubt that, sir. But I'm a sworn officer, and have no choice in the matter. I must hold him until the money or the security comes."
"I'm sorry, Doctor. You will have to produce your bail tonight," said the magistrate.
"But, how am I to do that? You held me in custody. I cannot go for a friend."
"Perhaps I can get you a messenger. Harland," the magistrate spoke to a constable, who sat listening with an air of indifference.
The man got up, and came forward.
"Will you take word for Doctor Hofland?"
"If he pays me, I will," was bluntly replied.
"Of course I'll pay you," said the Doctor, with hardly concealed impatience. "How much do you want?"
"I'll go for a dollar."
Doctor Hofland drew out his purse. "There," and a silver dollar passed to the constable's outstretched hand. Now came pause, debate, and hesitation, on the Doctor's part. Towhom should he apply? He had many acquaintances, and many friends. A dozen men, whom he felt sure would spring to his relief, the instant they knew of his condition, were thought of; but, in narrowing down the application for security to one after another of these, certain considerations were presented that made his thoughts turn back, in sickening reluctance upon himself. Oh, the bitter humiliation of that hour! Its painful memories went with him to his grave. At last, a selection was made, and a brief note penned hurriedly. It was addressed to a young man of no means — but kind-hearted, and an attached friend. He called on him, because he could rely on his friendship and discretion. Help as well as secrecy were needed. To have the thing rumored over the town would be discreditable, and touch his professional standing.
For over an hour, Doctor Hofland waited, in the keenest suspense, the return of his messenger. At the expiration of this time, he came back alone.
"Did you see the man?" was asked in an anxious voice.
"No, sir. He wasn't at home; and they didn't know when he'd be in.
"Did you leave my note?"
"No, sir."
The letter was handed back to the disappointed prisoner who, crumpling it in his hand, walked the office floor for some time in an agitated manner. Then sitting down, he addressed a letter to another friend, in trying to communicate with whom, a second half hour was lost. This application gave no better result; the friend was absent, and not expected to return until a late hour.
It was now past nine o'clock, and the officer in charge of the doctor, began to exhibit impatience, and to mutter half incoherent sentences, enough of which reached the ears of Doctor Hofland, to sting his pride and manliness into an agony of pain. The prospect of having to spend a night in jail looked threatening. The gloomy prison stood a mile away from the office in which he was held, and the constable plainly intimated that he could wait no longer, at so late an hour, on the uncertain outcome of bail.
"I cannot go to prison!"-the Doctor exclaimed, in excitement. "I have scores of friends, who, if they only knew of this extremity, would hurry to my relief. I am well known to you, sir," addressing the magistrate. "There is no risk, as you can assure the officer, in giving me until tomorrow morning to get security. I pledge him my honor, to have a bondsman or the money for which I have been sued, in the office by nine o'clock. This taking a man at fault, in this way, is not fair and right."
The magistrate turned to the officer and added a word in favor of the Doctor — but that official's countenance was as hard as iron, and resolute.
"I have no choice in the matter," was his unyielding answer. "The money or bail must come. My instructions are explicit."
"I will make one more effort," said the Doctor, forced into calmness; and he sat down and wrote to his old friend, Adam Guyton. It cost him a hard struggle to do so; but pride, and an almost unconquerable reluctance to expose himself in this direction, had to be overcome. He did not doubt for an instant the result, if the merchant would be found at home, and the probabilities were in favor of that. The risk was small, and Guyton could not, in very shame, refuse help in such an extremity. A hurried note to Mrs. Hofland was penned at the same time, that she might be forewarned, in case the dreaded imprisonment should result.
Suspense had now become almost unendurable. The Doctor walked the office floor, with the restless, short, quick turns of a caged animal, unceasingly, until his messenger came back.
"Did you see him?" The officer had come in alone.
Doctor Hofland's face was nervous.
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"No! point blank!"
"Adam Guyton said no!" Surprise and incredulity were in his voice.
"He did."
"You gave him my letter?"
"Yes, sir, and his answer was, 'I don't know anything about it.' Then I said, 'will you not pay his bail?' and I thought he'd have taken my head off."
"What were his precise words?" asked the Doctor, now speaking calmly.
"His precise words were, 'That is what I never do! Good evening!' And then he turned from me as if I were a dog!"
"Did you deliver the letter I gave you for Mrs. Hofland?" asked the Doctor, his voice faltering a little.
"I did."
"Nothing more can be done tonight. I am ready to go with you." The Doctor spoke firmly as he looked towards the officer who had him in charge. "It's a cruel outrage," he added, "and one of which Henry Warfield will repent."
"It would have been better," remarked the magistrate, "if you had sent notes to several of your friends at once. Before this time, one or more of them would have arrived. Before going with the officer, I would suggest your writing to one or two gentlemen of your acquaintance, in order that you may be relieved in the morning. Harland will see that the notes are delivered tonight."
"You left the second letter?" Doctor Hofland turned to the constable, named Harland.
"Yes."
"That will do. If the friend to whom it was sent had been at home, I would not be here now. He will make everything right at the earliest possible time tomorrow morning."
"He may be here yet," said the magistrate, who was reluctant to see the Doctor so needlessly committed to prison. He drew out his watch, and the officer who made the arrest did the same. The latter shook his head, saying —
"It's a quarter to ten now. I can wait any longer. The jail doesn't stand next door. Come, sir."
Dropping his head upon his bosom, the unhappy prisoner moved toward the door, and passed out silently.
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