One January day, in 1760, Lord Ferrers sent a polite message to his steward to come to Staunton Harold on an urgent matter of business.  It was on a Friday; and punctually at two o’clock, the hour appointed, Mr Johnson made his appearance, and was ushered into his Lordship’s study.  Unknown to him, Lord Ferrers had sent away his housekeeper and his menservants on various pretexts; and, apart from the Earl and the steward (the spider and the fly), there was no one in all the great house but three maidservants, whose chief anxiety was to keep as far away as possible from their mad master.

With a courteous greeting Lord Ferrers invited Mr Johnson to take a seat; and then, placing before him a document, which proved to be a confession of fraud and dishonesty in his office of receiver, he commanded his steward to sign his name to it.

On reading the confession which he was ordered to sign, Mr Johnson indignantly refused to comply with such an outrageous demand.  “You refuse to sign?” asked the Earl with ominous calmness.  “I do,” was the emphatic reply.  “Then,” continued his lordship, producing a pistol, “I command you to kneel.”  Mr Johnson, now alarmed and awake to his danger, looked first at the stern, cold eyes bent on him, and then at the pistol pointed at his heart, and sank on one knee.  “Both knees!” insisted the Earl.  Mr Johnson subsided on the other knee, looking calmly at his would-be murderer, though beads of perspiration were standing on his forehead.  A moment later a shot rang out in the silent room, and the steward fell to the floor mortally wounded.  Laying down the smoking weapon, Lord Ferrers opened the door and called loudly for assistance.  The horrified servants, who had heard the report, came, huddled and fearful, at his bidding.  One he despatched for a doctor, and, with the assistance of the other two, he carried the fast-dying man to a bedroom.  When the doctor arrived he found the Earl standing by the bedside, trying to stop the flow of blood which was ebbing from the steward’s chest; but the victim was beyond all human aid.  He had but a few hours at the most to live.  An hour later Lord Ferrers was lying dead drunk on the floor of his bedroom, while Mr Johnson’s life was ebbing out in agony at his house, a mile away.

“As soon as it became known,” to quote the account given by an eye-witness in the Gentleman’s Magazine, “that Mr Johnson was really dead, the neighbours set about seizing the murderer.  A few persons, armed, set out for Staunton, and as they entered the hall-yard they saw the Earl going towards the stable, as they imagined, to take horse.  He appeared to be just out of bed, his stockings being down and his garters in his hand, having probably taken the alarm immediately on coming out of his room, and finding that Johnson had been removed.  One Springthorpe, advancing towards his lordship, presented a pistol, and required him to surrender; but his lordship putting his hand to his pocket,