“She couldn’t be married again, to a richer man?” I suggestively observed. “I understand she and Brettle were lawfully man and wife.”
Dick’s face was the picture of guilt and confusion. If the ground could have swallowed him at that moment I imagine he would have been thankful. I was reading all the answers to the questions which had puzzled me for days in his tell-tale features.
“You have seen her lately, then?”
“No,” he faltered, while his face said “Yes,” and cursed me into the bargain.
“And have you no idea where she could be found?”
“Not the least,” he said, with the lie almost choking him.
“Imphm! Well, that’s all I want with you just now,” I coldly remarked, and with a dive he was gone.
I saw the whole plot now, and felt sure that that beautiful devil of a woman was at the bottom of it all. But was I to allow that miserable man—that well-meaning convict who had actually made an effort towards a life of honesty—to walk into the shambles? No doubt it would look like a feather in my cap to take him in the act and walk him off for his certain ten years’ penal; every one would think it neat and clever, and speak of the vigilance and sharpness of the police, &c., but there would still be a voice within me crying out against the whole as a crime—an offence against a law that never was written. After giving the matter some thought, I went out to the Grange to a gentleman with a big heart and unbounded faith in myself.
“I want you to give me some money,” I said, as his hand grasped my own, “without asking any questions. It is to help a convict and ticket-of-leave man till he shall be able to help himself.”
“All right, Mr McGovan; you shall have it,” was the frank response. “Just say how much it is to be.”