Murder in Grub Street by Bruce Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

repeated it until now, and I give it no more credit at this moment than I did at the time I first heard it. But since you asked, sir, I suppose I was bound to tell.”
    Dr. Johnson’s stentorian voice had declined through this to a mere whisper. The honor of the man, for which he was so justly famed, shone through to me in these scruples of his as never before.
    “Thank you,” said Sir John, “and be assured that I will keep your reservations as to the source of this information firmly in mind as I weigh it. I have but one question more for you, and it is this: You said that Ezekiel Crabb had made John Clayton’s reputation, if not his fortune. What did you mean by that, sir?”
    “Not to speak ill of the dead, Sir John, but it is general knowledge that Ezekiel Crabb was rather parsimonious in his relations with authors, among the stingiest of all his competitors and colleagues in the book trade. He justified it to others by boasting that he published books of quality that others would not risk to issue.
    By and large, this was no doubt true, but the man had a talent for commerce, rightly enough, and there were times he paid low out of habit, knowing full well he would likely make a considerable profit. John Clayton’s Countryman* Calendar presents just such an instance. I have heard it reliably reported that he purchased all rights to the book for twenty-five guineas. Crabb must have made near a hundred times that in pure profit, for the book sold in the thousands.”
    “Was Clayton resentful of this?”
    “Sir, to my mind he should have been, but he was not. He seemed at the time of our meeting, and later by report, to be quite humbly grateful that Crabb had put him before the public. Perhaps he had arranged a more profitable contract for his second book. Indeed, I hope he did.”
    “Well, I thank you, Dr. Johnson, you have been most helpful,” said Sir John most mildly.
    “Am I dismissed then, sir?” said the Great Cham, taken somewhat aback. “Where is the quid pro quo, the tit for tat? I came in answer to your summons to this lowly place in the hope — nay, the expectation — of learning more of this lamentable matter. I have given all and gotten precious little in return. I would know the circumstances of the crime, the evidence against poor Clayton. I count this unfair!”
    “Well, fair or not,” answered the magistrate, “this case is before the court and cannot be discussed. You have my invitation, however, to visit us at Bow Street in three hours’ time. There and then, I believe, your questions will be answered and your curiosity satisfied.”
    Rising to his feet then, he bade me show him the way out. I was up and at his elbow when Sir John stopped quite suddenly and, with a sly smile, put a request to Samuel Johnson: “I wonder, sir, if you would consent to lend me that book of Clayton’s from which you read. Its contents may be material to the case. It will be returned when these matters are disposed of, I promise.”
    Dr. Johnson sputtered and fumed, yet in the end he gave it up. Ne’er was a book lent with such ill grace — or so it seemed to me.
    Although Sir John Fielding conducted the proceedings of the Bow Street Court with reasonable dignity and certain respect for both the letter and spirit of the law, he was nevertheless no more nor less than a magistrate. As such, his direct power was limited to the judgment of minor offenses and settlement of modest civil suits and disputes. His greater power was indirect: On him fell the duty to weigh evidence and testimony in capital crimes (of which then there was even a greater number than today), and if sufficient and impressive, to bind the prisoner before him for trial before the King’s Bench at Old Bailey. And greatest of all, though the least commonly understood and appreciated, was his power to conduct inquiries that might lead to indictment.
    The principal matter before the Bow Street Court on that day was, quite naturally, the