Crampton drew a long breath once more.
“Don’t, pray don’t say any more, sir—not now,” he said at last pleadingly.
“They—surely they don’t—there, quick! Ring that bell.”
“Mr Van Heldre, sir. Pray—pray don’t take it like that; I only did my duty by you all.”
“Duty! In a fit of madness to make such a charge as this and prejudice others!” cried Van Heldre angrily. “Ring that bell, man. I cannot rest till this is set right.”
“Think, sir, how I was situated,” pleaded the old clerk. “You were robbed; I saw you lying, as I thought, dying, and I saw the scoundrel who had done all this escape. What could I do but call in the police?”
“The police! Then it is known by every one in the place?”
Crampton looked pityingly down at the anguished countenance before him.
“And Henry Vine? He refuted your charge? Speak, man, or you will drive me mad.”
“Henry Vine did not deny the charge, sir. He was manly enough for that.”