“I don't understand you, my dear Aubrey.”
“No,” said Todmarsh, speaking very rapidly. “I don't suppose you do. But I saw Hopkins yesterday and heard his story. It made me feel both thankful and ashamed,” pausing to blow his nose vigorously. “Uncle James, when you know it, I am certain you will feel as I do, that it bears the stamp of truth. Hopkins has been working of late among some of the plague spots of the East End, and has been most marvellously successful. By some means he learned of the intended burglary at Whistone Hall, and also that one of the men engaged was one whom he had regarded as a most promising convert. He came to ask my advice, but I was out with Sadie and he couldn't reach me. I shall never cease to regret that I failed him then. In his anxiety to stop the plot he could think of no better plan than going down to Whistone himself and reasoning with the men. Only in the event of their very obstinate refusal did he intend to give the alarm. However, when he reached the scene of action, he found that operations had begun sooner than he expected and that they had already effected an entrance. Hopkins went after them. He pleaded, he argued and just as he thought he was on the point of success he found that they were surrounded. Then, it is a moot point what he ought to have done. So conscious was he of his own integrity that the idea of making his escape never occurred to him; and, when he found himself arrested with the others, he thought he only had to explain matters. His amazement when he was disbelieved was pathetic—so pathetic that I lost my own composure when listening to him.”
“Um!” The rector raised his eyebrows. “But, my dear Aubrey, in the account in the papers it said that he was evidently the ringleader and that he was caught red-handed with a revolver in his possession.”
Aubrey cast a strange glance at his uncle from beneath his lowered eyelids.
“The papers will say anything, Uncle James. Though as a matter of fact Hopkins had a revolver. He had just persuaded one of the more reckless men to give it up to him. Uncle James, in another minute Hopkins believes and I believe he would have got them safely out of the house. He has wonderful powers of persuasion.”
Mr. Collyer did not speak. Remembering Hopkins's gloomy countenance and pleasing habit of opening and shutting his mouth silently, he was inclined to think that Hopkins's powers of persuasion if effective must be little short of marvellous. His defence too did not strike him in the same light as it apparently did Aubrey. He was inclined to think it as lame a tale as he had ever heard.
Presently Todmarsh resumed.
“Keith and Swinnerton are taking up the case. They are the keenest solicitors I know and they are briefing Arnold Wynter for the defence. Oh, we shall get Hopkins off all right at the assizes. But it is the thought of what the poor old chap is going through now, locked up there alone and knowing how the world is misjudging him that bowls me over.” He stopped and blew his nose again.
“But, my dear boy, you cannot be held responsible for that. And I am certain that nobody could have done more for him than you, if as you say he is to be defended by Arnold Wynter. But I am afraid, my dear Aubrey, that it is likely to prove an expensive matter for you, for it is absurd to suppose that Hopkins——”
“I shall not allow Hopkins to pay a penny if it costs the last one I possess,” Todmarsh interrupted, a dull shade of red streaking his sallow face as he spoke. “You can have no idea what Hopkins was to me. To speak to a crowd of all sorts of men, and to have Hopkins sitting in the front with his wonderfully responsive face was like an inspiration. You who preach must know what I mean.”