I was aroused from these consoling reflections by the voice of Mr.
Bruff. My meditative silence appeared to weigh upon the spirits of this
worldling, and to force him, as it were, into talking to me against his
own will.
"Well, Miss Clack, what's the last news in the charitable circles? How
is your friend Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite, after the mauling he got from the
rogues in Northumberland Street? Egad! they're telling a pretty story
about that charitable gentleman at my club!"
I had passed over the manner in which this person had remarked that I
was more than twenty-one, and that I had no pecuniary interest in my
aunt's Will. But the tone in which he alluded to dear Mr. Godfrey was
too much for my forbearance. Feeling bound, after what had passed in my
presence that afternoon, to assert the innocence of my admirable friend,
whenever I found it called in question--I own to having also felt bound
to include in the accomplishment of this righteous purpose, a stinging
castigation in the case of Mr. Bruff.
"I live very much out of the world," I said; "and I don't possess the
advantage, sir, of belonging to a club. But I happen to know the story
to which you allude; and I also know that a viler falsehood than that
story never was told."
"Yes, yes, Miss Clack--you believe in your friend. Natural enough. Mr.
Godfrey Ablewhite, won't find the world in general quite so easy to
convince as a committee of charitable ladies. Appearances are dead
against him. He was in the house when the Diamond was lost. And he was
the first person in the house to go to London afterwards. Those are ugly
circumstances, ma'am, viewed by the light of later events."
I ought, I know, to have set him right before he went any farther. I
ought to have told him that he was speaking in ignorance of a testimony
to Mr. Godfrey's innocence, offered by the only person who was
undeniably competent to speak from a positive knowledge of the
subject. Alas! the temptation to lead the lawyer artfully on to his
own discomfiture was too much for me. I asked what he meant by "later
events"--with an appearance of the utmost innocence.
"By later events, Miss Clack, I mean events in which the Indians are
concerned," proceeded Mr. Bruff, getting more and more superior to poor
Me, the longer he went on. "What do the Indians do, the moment they are
let out of the prison at Frizinghall? They go straight to London, and
fix on Mr. Luker. What follows? Mr. Luker feels alarmed for the safety
of 'a valuable of great price,' which he has got in the house. He lodges
it privately (under a general description) in his bankers' strong-room.
Wonderfully clever of him: but the Indians are just as clever on their
side. They have their suspicions that the 'valuable of great price' is
being shifted from one place to another; and they hit on a singularly
bold and complete way of clearing those suspicions up. Whom do they
seize and search? Not Mr. Luker only--which would be intelligible
enough--but Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite as well. Why? Mr. Ablewhite's
explanation is, that they acted on blind suspicion, after seeing him
accidentally speaking to Mr. Luker. Absurd! Half-a-dozen other people
spoke to Mr. Luker that morning. Why were they not followed home too,
and decoyed into the trap? No! no! The plain inference is, that Mr.
Ablewhite had his private interest in the 'valuable' as well as Mr.
Luker, and that the Indians were so uncertain as to which of the two
had the disposal of it, that there was no alternative but to search them
both. Public opinion says that, Miss Clack. And public opinion, on this
occasion, is not easily refuted."