Even at the end, when he slunk from town to town, a notorious
outlaw, he had inspirations of his ancient magnificence, and--at
Chester--he eluded the vigilance of his enemies and captured
L600, wherewith he purchased some months of respectability. Now,
respectability was ever dear to him, and it was at once his pleasure and
profit to live in the highest society. Were it not blasphemy to sully
Barrington with slang you would call him a member of the swell-mob, but,
having cultivated a grave and sober style for himself, he recoiled in
horror from the flash lingo, and his susceptibility demands respect.
He kept a commonplace book! Was ever such thrift in a thief? Whatever
images or thoughts flashed through his brain, he seized them on paper,
even 'amidst the jollity of a tavern, or in the warmth of an interesting
conversation.' Was it then strange that he triumphed as a man of
fashionable and cultured leisure? He would visit Ranelagh with the
most distinguished, and turn a while from epigram and jest to empty the
pocket of a rich acquaintance. And ever with so tactful a certainty,
with so fine a restraint of the emotions, that suspicion was
preposterous. To catalogue his exploits is superfluous, yet let it be
recorded that once he went to Court, habited as a clergyman, and came
home the richer for a diamond order, Lord C--'s proudest decoration.
Even the assault upon Prince Orloff was nobly planned. Barrington had
precise intelligence of the marvellous snuff-box--the Empress's own gift
to her lover; he knew also how he might meet the Prince at Drury Lane;
he had even discovered that the Prince for safety hid the jewel in his
vest.
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