Free An Experiment in Treason by Bruce Alexander Page A

him in donning the garment, and then opened the door for us all. As I passed him, our eyes met, and he seemed to look upon me with a sort of benevolent amusement. I knew not if this were preferable to his unusual air of cold, aloof superiority. I decided that I should have to consider the matter.
    Then up and into the coach, assisted by the footman. To be rich, I decided, was to be thought incapable of performing such mundane acts without help. Perhaps that was why so many of the wealthy behaved as children: They were treated as such.
    We were well on our way when Lord Mansfield, who had been running his hand idly over the upholstery of his seat, did suddenly sit erect and take notice of what he had encountered there.
    “Good God, ” said he, “what is this stuff? “
    He raised his finger with bits of white upon the tip, for closer inspection. “They look like …” He carefully tasted a few of the white bits. “Why, they are! They’re bread crumbs. Now, who would be eating here in the coach? I’ll wager it’s that slovenly driver, Carling. That fellow is ever eating — ever and anywhere! Well, he shall hear from me about this. Indeed.”
    I was sorely embarrassed on behalf of Sir John. He, it was, who had spread the crumbs of soda bread where Lord Mansfield now sat. That I knew full well. What could I do or say to cover his crude misstep? Yet a glance in his direction told me there was no hope of covering up anything. He was just beginning to snicker, and well did I know that he would now progress from snicker to chuckle, and from chuckle to guffaw. And so it went precisely. In less than a minute, he was laughing so loudly and boisterously that the small space within the coach wherein we sat could scarce contain the noise of it.
    “Whatever is the matter with you. Sir John?” said Lord Mansfield in alarm. Then did there pass a full minute in which the customarily dignified magistrate sought to bring himself under control. He did his best. Yet even so, there were a few times in which he lost himself utterly to laughter, and was forced to begin anew.
    “I would only say to you, my lord” — and here he halted briefly, one last time lest he be overcome again with laughter — “I would say to you that your man Carling is not the culprit, but rather ‘twas I, the slovenly magistrate, who spread crumbs all over the seat. So rushed was I to attend your meeting that I fear it was necessary for me to breakfast in your coach. I think, however, that I did no permanent damage.”
    Lord Mansfield, somewhat at a loss, cleared his throat, hemmed and hawed a bit, than said at last, “Yes … well … I’m sure no damage was done, none at all. Sorry to have made such demands upon you, but I’ve a long day in court today, and the sooner I get to it …”
    “The sooner you’ll be done, of course, ” said Sir John.
    An uneasy silence fell inside the coach. Oddly, it was Lord Mansfield, rather than Sir John, who showed signs of embarrassment. Perhaps a change of subject was in order.
    “You said, Sir John, that there was something more you wished to discuss.”
    “What? Oh yes, there is. I was wondering if you yourself are at all familiar with the contents of these missing letters.”
    “Only in a general way.”
    “Meaning … what?”
    “Well, meaning that they have to do with the American colonies and naught to do with Lord Hillsborough’s nasty pursuits.”
    “It has been suggested to me that since the letters no doubt concern the talk of rebellion in the American colonies, and His Majesty’s government is so eager to have them back, they might well have to do with a plan to silence the talk of rebellion by resort to legal means.”
    “By what plan is that?” asked the Lord Chief Justice.
    “By trying a few of the leaders on charges of sedition, or even treason. Have you heard of any such plan? Perhaps been consulted on how such might be made to work?”
    Lord Mansfield gave that a bit of thought before