“Yes,” said a Mr. Newnham, who was one of Peace’s neighbours. “We’ve quite enough of that sort of thing here in our locality. It’s a capital song. I never remember to have heard it before, but I admire it immensely.”
Peace glanced at Mrs. Thompson, and made a wry face, at which the company laughed.
Soon after this supper was served, after which a game of whist was proposed, and two sets of partners sat down to cards.
Mr. Harker, who was not included in either of the parties of players, sat down by the chimney-corner, and entered into a lively discourse with some of those who were disengaged.
He was a man who had at his disposal a whole fund of anecdote, and was therefore a great acquisition to the visitors.
He gave a running commentary on the great detective case, which was the general topic of conversation at this time, and cited instances of the mistakes made by the Scotland yard officials.
“As far as mistakes are concerned,” said Harker, “their name is legion, and I, for one, should be very careful in delivering a verdict without the clearest and most unmistakable evidence, for, from my own personal experience, I am able to testify as to the unreliability of suspicious circumstances, which may, by the merest accident, be brought to bear upon a man.”
“There is no doubt about that, sir,” said Peace; “mistakes are frequent enough.”
“Well,” observed Harker, “as I am only a looker-on now, and am not engaged to play, I’ll, with your permission, first narrate to you what I may term a ‘Romance of a Counting-house.’ The whole of the incidents came under my immediate knowledge. In short, I was the leading actor in as pretty a little drama as ever man had the misfortune to play in.”
“I shall be most delighted to hear it,” said Peace, “and so will our friends, I’m sure.”