ncil
should lay hands on her.

By the end of the year, Matthews was ready to return to England. Intent to
the last on trade, he touched at Carwar, Tellicherry, and St. David's, and,
in Mrs. Gyfford's interests, a visit was also paid Anjengo, to try and
recover some of the property she claimed to have left there. She was not
going to be put off with Lapthorne's 'two wiggs and a bolster.' In July
(1724) the _Lyon_ reached Portsmouth, and was put out of commission.

At first the Directors appear to have paid little attention to Mrs.
Gyfford, perhaps not thinking her worth powder and shot. Their principal
anger was directed against Matthews, against whom they obtained a decree
in the Court of Chancery for unlawful trading. But Mrs. Gyfford would not
keep silence. Perhaps she really believed in the justice of her claims.
She bombarded the Directors with petitions, till at last, two years after
her arrival in England, they tardily awoke to the fact that they
themselves had substantial claims against her. They offered to submit the
claims to arbitration, to which Mrs. Gyfford consented; but as she still
refrained from coming to close quarters, they filed a suit against her in
the Court of Chancery, nearly four years after her arrival in England. Mrs.
Gyfford promptly replied with a counter-suit, in which, among other things,
she claimed L10,000 for presents taken by Gyfford to the Rani of Attinga
on that fatal 11th April, seven years before. Four years later, she was
still deep in litigation, having quarrelled with her agent, Peter
Lapthorne, among others. It is to be hoped, for her sake, that Chancery
suits were cheaper than they are now. Here we may say good-bye to her. For
those who are curious in such matters, a search among the Chancery records
will probably reveal the result, but it is improbable that the Company
reaped any benefit from their action. And so she passes from the scene, a
curious example of the vicissitudes to which Englishwomen in India were
exposed, two hundred years ago.

[1] They were issued at the rate of sixty-five for a rupee; before long,
their value was reduced to seventy-two for a rupee, at which price
they were much in request, and the Governor reported that he expected
to coin sixteen tons of them yearly.

[2] In October, 1713, the Bombay Council decided that the Xeraphims, being
much debased with copper and other alloy, their recognized value
should in future be half a