“Well, now, sir,” said Peace, evidently reassured by Mr. Littlewood’s belief in him, “in the first place I understand that you have still the impression that I stole the clock from your day-schools.” He waited for an answer.
“Well,” said Mr. Littlewood, “I have that impression.”
“I thought you had,” replied Peace, “and this has caused me much grief and pain, for I can assure you I have so much respect for you personally that I would rather have given you a clock, and much more besides, than have taken it.” Then he added, “At the time your clock was stolen I had reason for suspecting that it was taken by some colliers whom I knew.”
Peace stopped again. Mr. Littlewood thought he was going to mention the names of the colliers, but he did not, and as the rev. gentleman was not disposed to follow that subject up, thinking it was too trifling compared with the others that were to follow, it was about to be dropped, when the convict turned to him again sharply, and earnestly asked, “Do you now believe that I have spoken the truth in denying that I took your clock, and will you leave me to-day, fully believing that I am innocent of doing that?”
Mr. Littlewood looked at him again, to confirm his own conclusion, and paused for some few moments, as if deliberating what he should reply.
The convict watched him keenly all the time, and seemed rather uneasy at the answer about to be made, but in the end Mr. Littlewood said, “Peace, I am convinced that you did not take the clock. I cannot believe that you dare deny it now in your position, if you really did.”
The convict looked immensely relieved, and burst into tears afresh, and it was some time before he was able to proceed. He next abruptly said—
“Now, Mr. Littlewood, about the Bannercross murder. I want first to say solemnly before you in the sight of these men, and in the hearing of God, that several witnesses grossly perjured themselves. Brassington and Mrs. Padmore were two. They have grossly perjured themselves, but I freely and fully forgive them, and hope to meet them in Heaven. You may ask me what their perjury was. Well, they swore that they heard me threaten Mrs. Dyson. That was a lie. I call God to witness that I never did threaten Mrs. Dyson. I tell you, sir, that Mrs. Dyson and I were on such intimate terms that I could not have done so. It would not have suited my purpose to have quarrelled with or threatened Mrs. Dyson.”
Here the convict made use of language expressive of his familiarities with Mrs. Dyson which we cannot reproduce in print, but, if true, confirms all that has been alleged on that delicate subject. Without another word he then burst out:
“And now about Whalley Range.”