“That was like him,” said Thomson, with more feeling in his dry voice than he had yet exhibited. “Except my master, Sir Robert, there’s no gentleman in the world I respect so much, or who I’d sooner serve than Mr. Carling. He was always the same, always treated me like a human being and not a servant, or a stock or stone. Madam, I’d do anything in the world that I could to serve him!”
“I believe you, Mr. Thomson. Thank you,” said Grace softly, telling herself that she had misjudged the man.
“This terrible charge that has been brought against Mr. Carling has upset me more than anything has done for years, madam,” he resumed: “that and the fact that my master believes him to be guilty and has turned against him altogether. I can’t understand it. Sir Robert ought to have known him better. I have presumed several times to try to remonstrate with my master, but he won’t hear a word even from me. It’s—well, really, madam, it’s been a great grief to me, for it’s the only serious difference Sir Robert and I have ever had in all the years that I have served him.”
“It’s a great comfort to me—and it will be to my husband—to know that you are so loyal to him, Mr. Thomson,” Grace said earnestly, greatly touched, but wondering more and more what had prompted the old man to come to her now.
“Thank you, madam. Though that is not actually what I took the liberty of coming here to say,” he responded, as if in some uncanny manner he had read her unuttered thought. “It was to ask if you have arranged for Mr. Carling’s defence?”
A wild hope flashed to her mind.
“Mr. Thomson! Is it possible that you know of anything—that you have any information that would help to clear him?”
He shook his head.
“Unfortunately, I know nothing whatever of Mr. Carling’s movements on that fatal day, madam, beyond what I have heard and read as stated in evidence. That was not what I meant. He must have the best defence that money can obtain.”