"Once more, to be quite frank with you, I did. I have no desire to be rude, but I rather fancy you would have done the same had you been similarly situated. I never was much of a success in the moral business."
I could well believe this, but I did not tell him so.
"When did you first become aware that they were in London?"
"On the day that they landed," he answered. "I watched every ship that came in from Rangoon, and at last had the doubtful satisfaction of seeing my two old friends pass out of the dock-gates. Poor beggars, they had indeed had a hard time of it."
"Then you could pity them? Even while you were robbing them?"
"Why not," he answered. "There was no reason because I had the stones that I should not feel sorry for the pain they had suffered. I had to remember how near I'd been to it myself."
This speech sounded very pretty though somewhat illogical.
"And pray how did you know that they had called in my assistance?"
"Because I kept my eyes on them. I know Mr. Kitwater of old, you see. I watched them go into your office and come out from a shop on the other side of the street."
The whole mystery was now explained. What an amount of trouble I should have been spared had I only known this before?