“You did,” replied he; “but to be very candid with you, I had no hope, though I admitted I had faith in your name. But tell me where you got it, for I am dying to know?”
“I can hardly explain all in the meantime,” said I. “I am bent for the Office, and up for time. But I may inform you that Donald M‘Leod is the man, and we must keep him in custody.”
“The newspaper!” again ejaculated Mr Ellis, as if he was in great perplexity. “How a piece of printed paper should be the means of getting £180! Was the money marked upon it?”
“No; yet I repeat it was the means of getting your money. Of course I cannot leave the notes with you. You will get them after Donald receives his sentence.”
And with this I went away, leaving Mr Ellis to divine how the old newspaper came to have so much virtue. I then proceeded to the Office, where, having deposited the money, and explained the affair to the Superintendent, I was asked, “Where is the woman?”
And I knew that this question would be asked of me, and I knew also what would be my answer.
“Why, sir,” said I, “do you really think that I should be the man to apprehend that woman?”
“Strictly, you should,” said he, with a smile; “but if ever there was a case in which an officer might be passed over for a duty, it is this. I would rather go for her myself than put this duty on you. I acknowledge you were justified in the words you used, that the newspapers would be scored, and that you were entitled to your mental reservation. The question may be said to be a subtle one, suited to the logic of casuists, but I affirm that it may be resolved by a sturdy moralist. As for the rest, you have shewn a feeling creditable to the heart of a right man, in leaving the apprehension of the woman to another.”
Mrs M‘Leod was in the evening brought up by my assistant. The two were tried at the High Court, and Donald was sentenced to seven years’ transportation, while Mrs M‘Leod, as being under the iron rule of the Gael, was acquitted.