“A great deal,” continued the woman. “Sae muckle that I need nae mair, for be it kenned to ye that Mr Gebbie was aye ashamed o’ what he thought a deformity, and concealed it from a’ living mortals except me. If ye’ll prove that there’s anither person in a’ Edinburgh, in Scotland, or in the hail world, wha kens that Elder Andrew had six toes on his left foot, I’ll give up a’ right to the three hundred pounds!”
“So there is something in the corns after all,” whispered Mr Crawford to Trinity, and the others hearing the remark began to think, and think, and look at each other, as if they felt that the woman had fairly shut them up to a test of her truthfulness easily applied. So telling her to call back next day at the same hour, they requested her to leave them. And after she was gone, the four gentlemen began gradually to relax from their gravity as they saw the ingenuity of the woman, for it was quite apparent that if it should turn out that no one—servant, relative, or doctor—could tell this wonderful fact about the six toes of their own knowledge, however derived, and that this Helen Grey was the sole confidential custodier thereof—the conclusion was all but certain that she knew it by being intrusted with the cutting of the holy man’s corns, as she had asserted. And a confidence of this kind, (setting aside the irregular marriage,) implied a friendship so close as to justify the legacy. What in the meantime remained to be done was for the agent to see any persons connected with the elder’s household who were likely to know the fact, and being an honourable man he behoved to do this without what is called a leading question.
Accordingly, that same afternoon Mr Crawford busied himself to the effect of having seen the good elder’s housekeeper, as well as the doctor who had attended him upon his last illness, with perhaps a dozen of other likely people, such as the other legatees and relations, all of whom were entirely ignorant of the fact set forth by the woman, viz., that Mr Gebbie had six toes on his left foot. And next day the trustees met again, when Mr Crawford told them, before touching on the corns, that an agent had called upon him from the other Helen first seen, demanding payment to her. He then told the trustees the result of his inquiries—that not a single person of all he had seen knew anything of the abnormal foot. At this the clergymen wondered more and more, and how long they might have sat there and wondered it might have been difficult to say, had it not been for an ingenious idea started by Tron, and suggested by the old story about King Charles and the fish in the bucket of water.
“The woman is laughing at us,” said he, “and we are inquiring whether certain people knew a fact without making ourselves acquainted with the prior fact, whether that prior fact had ever any existence except in the brain of this bad woman, whose evidence goes to traduce the character of a holy elder of the Church of Scotland.”
The brethren again laughed at this ingenious discovery of Father Tron’s, and thereupon began to veer round in favour of good Nelly prima. In a few minutes more entered Blowsabel again, holding in her hand a psalm-book with some words of an inscription on it in the handwriting of the elder, but subscribed “a friend,” whereas, as the reader may recollect, the inscription in the book given to the first Helen, (with the misnomer of Janet,) was in the name of Andrew Gebbie—a fact rather in favour of Nelly secunda, insomuch as it harmonised with her statement that the friendship between the elder and her had been kept a secret known only to themselves.
“That goes for what it’s worth,” said she, as she received back the book. “And now,” she continued, addressing Mr Crawford, “you can tell me whether you were able to find, within the hail o’ Edinburgh, a single person who knew that Elder Andrew had six taes on his left foot.”
“I have found no one,” was the answer, “for the good reason that Andrew Gebbie had no more toes on his left foot than you yourself have on yours.”
Whereupon Helen secunda burst out into a laugh. After which, said she, “I will prove it, as sure as I am a living woman!”
“The man is dead and buried!” replied Mr Crawford, with a voice of triumph.
“That makes nae difference,” said she; “unless it be that the worms have eaten awa the sixth tae; and, by my faith, I’ll see to it!”