“The robber had caught a Tartar!” exclaimed Vincent.
“The Englishman went home in triumph. He could not help boasting a little of his exploit when he and his family met round the breakfast-table. ‘Well, it is odd enough,’ said his sister, ‘but I could have been sure that I saw your watch hanging up in your room last evening after you had gone to your party.’ The Englishman stared for a moment, clapped his hand to his forehead to catch the thought which suddenly darted across it, pulled out from his pocket the watch which he had taken from the Italian—and lo! it was no more his than the clock at the Horse-Guards! He recollected that he had left his own watch at home, as a measure of precaution. So, instead of having been attacked, as he had imagined, by a brigand, he had played the brigand himself, and had actually robbed a poor fellow of his property, under the idea of recovering his own!”
Vincent could not help laughing. “It is the first time,” he exclaimed, “that an English gentleman ever acted as a thief!”
“I wish that I could say as much, my boy,” observed Captain Thistlewood, slowly sipping his glass of port. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve met with pickpockets, even in the higher ranks of life, quite as dangerous as the gentlemen of the swell-mob in my omnibus. I’ve known a man, and one who drove his cabriolet too, go to a shop and order goods to the amount of hundreds of pounds, aware all the time that he had as little chance of paying for them as of discharging the national debt. I’ve met with another, looked upon as a man of honour, who built up a grand establishment upon the fortunes and credulity of others, who ate his turtle, and drank his claret,—ay, and asked his friends to share in the feast,—knowing all the time that he was spending the money of those who had confided their all to his care. Such men are, in my eyes, pickpockets—heartless pickpockets—for they not only violate honesty, but abuse a trust, and add hypocrisy to theft!”
“Let us adjourn to the drawing-room,” said Mr. Effingham abruptly, pushing back his chair from the table.
CHAPTER XI
POLICY AND POLITENESS.
“I heard there was glorious skating on the Serpentine yesterday!” cried Vincent. “I’ll be off there this fine morning, and see the fun!”
“I’ll go with you,” said Louisa; “I’m sick to death of both books and work. Belgrave Square is as dull as a city of the dead; I want to go where a little life is stirring!”