"I can bear the worst now," he said; and I knew from the remarks he made, that he was more grateful for Ellen's sake than for his own. I shall call her Ellen; surely I have the right, working as I was for her and for the man who had, in a sort of way, supplanted me. Had she seen me first—but of what use is it to speculate upon what might have been?
As I have said, it was Fordham who laid stress upon the evidence against himself, evidence of his own supplying. His silence, his long concealment in London under an assumed name, the incriminating articles in his possession, which he had given up to the police, were strong points against him.
"If my innocence is not clearly proved," he said, "I shall not care to be released."
"You can't compel a jury to declare you guilty," I urged, and I confess to being angry with him.
"No," he replied, "but the doubt would remain and would darken my days."
"Well," I said, "anyway, the police are not likely to let you go without a searching inquiry. For the present we must be silent, and bend all our energies to the discovery of Maxwell and Morgan."
It was a hard matter to convince Ellen of the wisdom of this course, and indeed we did not succeed in convincing her; but she was compelled to yield in the end, though she protested against the injustice of Fordham being kept in prison. There is a reason of the heart and a reason of the head, and when we are dealing with stern facts, we know which is likely to come out the winner.
The position, you see, was one of great difficulty. I was pledged to Jack, and to break my word would be to bring him immediately into danger. This I determined not do until every other chance failed me. It was a prudent as well as a just resolve. If Jack found himself betrayed and brought to bay, it was as likely as not that he would deny everything, or that he would commit himself to statements which would place Fordham in jeopardy.
I met my card-sharping friend before the end of the week, when it had been decided that he was to pay me a visit. I was on my way to Highgate Cemetery, and I came across him in the N. W. district. He had hired a donkey, and there was a gay show of flowers on his barrow. Seeing me approach, he gave me a wink and an almost imperceptible shake of the head. I inferred from the wink that business was prospering, and from the nod that he did not wish to be spoken to. I returned his wink and passed on.
My object in going to Highgate Cemetery was to ascertain if a lady of the name of Fordham was buried there, as would certainly have been the case if, as had been stated by Maxwell, Louis' mother was dead. As I have already said, I did not believe he had spoken the truth, but if I was mistaken I should be able to learn the address from which the coffin was taken.