Some Distinguished Victims of the Scaffold. Bleackley Horace

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THE UNFORTUNATE BROTHERS

       THE CASE OF ROBERT AND DANIEL PERREAU AND MRS MARGARET CAROLINE RUDD, 1775–6

       Table of Contents

      “What’s this dull town to me?

       Robin’s not near;

       He whom I wish to see,

       Wish for to hear.

       Where’s all the joy and mirth,

       Made life a heaven on earth?

       Oh! they’re all fled with thee,

       Robin Adair.”

      When tenor Braham sent his plaintive air ringing through the town, few were alive who could recall the two previous occasions on which also the name of Adair was upon every lip. One day in February 1758 all London had been stirred by the elopement of Lady Caroline Keppel, daughter of second Earl Albemarle, with a rollicking Irish physician who may have been the Robert of the ballad; while during the summer of 1775 the whole world was wondering whether a man or a most beautiful woman must go to Tyburn for using the signature of Mr. William Adair, the rich army agent, cousin to Dr. Robin of wedding and song. In the first romance the hero received the just title of ‘the fortunate Irishman’: in the latter the chief personages were ‘the unfortunate brothers’ Messrs Robert and Daniel Perreau. Their disaster happened thus:—

      On a Tuesday morning, the 7th of March 1775, a slender, middle-aged gentleman walked into the counting-house of Messrs Drummond, the great bankers of Charing Cross. Garbed in a trim snuff-coloured suit, and betraying none of the macaroni eccentricities with the exception of a gold-laced hat, his dress suited the rôle that he played in life—a sleek and prosperous apothecary. This Mr. Robert Perreau of Golden Square was welcomed cordially by Henry Drummond, one of the partners in the firm, for an apothecary was almost as eminent as a doctor, and the men had met and known each other at such houses as my Lord Egmont’s or that of my Lady Lyttelton. Producing as security a bond for £7500, bearing a signature that should have been honoured by any house in London, the visitor requested a loan of £5000. However, strange to say, banker Henry, who had been joined by his brother Robert, seemed dissatisfied.

      “This bond is made payable to you,” he remarked. “Was you present when it was executed?”

      “No, I was not present,” was Mr. Perreau’s reply.

      “It is not the signature of William Adair, the late army agent of Pall Mall,” was the startling comment of Robert Drummond. “I have seen his drafts many a time!”

      The prim countenance of the apothecary remained unperturbed.

      “There is no doubt but it is his hand,” he answered, with perfect composure, “for it is witnessed by Mr. Arthur Jones, his solicitor, and by Thomas Stark, his servant.”

      “It is very odd,” replied the incredulous Robert Drummond. “I have seen his hand formerly, and this does not appear to be the least like it.”

      Brother Henry Drummond echoed the same sentiment, whereupon Mr. Robert Perreau waxed mysterious and emphatic.

      “Mr. Adair is my particular friend,” he declared. “There are family connections between us. … Mr. Adair has money of mine in his hands, and allows me interest.”

      “Come to-morrow, Mr. Perreau,” said Henry Drummond, “and we will give you an answer.”

      Having received this promise the apothecary departed, but after the lapse of two hours he returned, and was seen by banker Henry once more. Without the least reserve he confessed that he had been much concerned by what the Messrs Drummond had told him.

      “I could not be easy in my mind till I had called on Mr. Adair,” he explained. “Luckily I catched him in his boots before he went to take his ride.”

      Naturally, the good banker listened with interest, noting the words, for it seemed odd that Mr. William Adair, the rich squire of Flixton Hall in Suffolk, whose son was carrying on the army agency, should raise money in such a style.

      “I produced the bond to Mr. Adair,” Robert Perreau continued. “It was his signature, he said, but he might possibly have altered his hand from the time you had seen him write. … You might let me have the £5000, Mr. Adair said, and he would pay the bond in May, though it is not payable till June.”

      The astute banker, who had talked the matter over with his brother in the interim, did not express his doubts so strongly.

      “Leave the bond with me,” he suggested to his visitor, “in order that we may get an assignment of it.”

      Which proposal Mr. Robert Perreau assented to readily, believing, no doubt, that it was a preface to the payment of his money. In the course of the day the document was shown to a friend of Mr. Adair, and finally exhibited to the agent himself. Attentive to the hour of his appointment, Mr. Perreau left his gallipots in Golden Square, and reached the Charing Cross bank at eleven o’clock on the following morning. Both partners were ready for him, and suggested that to clear up all doubts it would be wise to call upon Mr. William Adair without delay. To this the apothecary assented very readily—indeed, in any case a refusal would have aroused the worst suspicions. As it was a wet morning, he had come in his elegant town coach, and he drove off immediately with one of the bankers to the house of the late agent in Pall Mall. Upon their entrance the squire of Flixton took Mr. Henry Drummond by the hand, but, to the surprise of the worthy banker, made a bow merely to the man who had boasted him as his ‘particular friend’ Then, the bond being produced, Mr. Adair at once repudiated the signature. For the first time Robert Perreau betrayed astonishment.

      “Surely, sir,” cried he, “you are jocular!”

      A haughty glance was the sole response of the wealthy agent.

      “It is no time to be jocular when a man’s life is at stake,” retorted the indignant Henry Drummond. “What can all this mean? The person you pretend to be intimate with does not know you.”

      “Why, ’tis evident this is not Mr. Adair’s hand,” added his brother, who had just arrived, with similar warmth, pointing to the forged name.

      “I know nothing at all of it,” protested the confused apothecary.

      “You are either the greatest fool or the greatest knave I ever saw,” the angry banker continued. “I do not know what to make of you. … You must account for this. … How came you by the bond?”

      Then there was a hint that a constable had been summoned, and it would be best to name his accomplices.

      “How came you by the bond?” repeated Mr. Drummond.

      At last the bewildered Mr. Perreau seemed to realise the gravity of his position.

      “That will appear,” he replied, in answer to the last remark, “if you will send for my sister.”

      “Who may she be?”

      “Why, my brother Mr. Daniel Perreau’s wife.”

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