"Well, then, sir, of course you can tell, whether he is one of the men who robbed you?"
The pause which ensued was of not more than two or three seconds' duration, but it was a trying one to two of the parties present. Hamilton looked as if he awaited the reply without fear, and acted the innocent man boldly. The turnkey and constable turned away for an instant to speak to each other; and as they did so, Grimaldi held up his left hand, turning down two of the fingers in imitation of Hamilton's, and shook his head gravely. The man instantly understood his meaning, and saw that he was known. All his assumed fortitude forsook him; his face became ashy pale, and his whole frame trembled with inward agitation. It appeared as if he would have fallen on the floor, but he rallied a little; and after bestowing a look of intense supplication upon Grimaldi, laid his finger on his lip, and fixed his eyes on the ground.
"Well, sir," said the patrol, "there they are; can you swear to them all, or to any of them?"
A thousand thoughts crowded through Grimaldi's brain, but one was uppermost the desire to save this young man, whom he strongly suspected to be but a beginner in crime. After a moment's pause, he replied, that he could not swear to any one of them.
"Then," said the turnkey to the patrol, with a meaning look, "either you have gone upon a wrong scent altogether, or these chaps have had a very narrow escape."
After informing the magistrate that it was not in his power to identify the prisoners, Grimaldi hurried away. The men were discharged in the course of the afternoon, and thus terminated the interview at the police-office.
A day or two afterwards, Hamilton called at Grimaldi's house, and, in a conversation with him, humbly acknowledged that he was one of the men who had robbed him; that he had been incited to the act, partly by an anxiety to acquire money faster than he could make it in trade, and partly by the persuasions of his friend Archer; but that it was his first attempt at crime, and should be his last. He thanked his benefactor in the warmest and most grateful manner for his clemency; and Grimaldi then acquainted him with the designs of Archer upon his wife, severely reprobating the vicious habits which had led him to abandon one by whose means he might have been rendered happy and respectable, and saved from his guilty career, and leaving her exposed to the insults of men inured to every species of villany and crime. Hamilton assured him that neither his information nor his advice was ill bestowed, and after a long interview they parted, he pouring forth his thanks and promises of reformation, and Grimaldi repeating his forgiveness and his admonitions.
Grimaldi had reason to hope that Hamilton kept his promise, and shrunk from his old associates, for he resided nearly twenty years after that period in Clerkenwell, carrying on a good business, and bearing the reputation of an honest man.
At this time Grimaldi was in the habit of taking three benefits every year; that is to say, two at Sadler's Wells, and one at Covent Garden. Regularly on the morning of each of these occasions, for very many years, some person called at his house for ten box-tickets, always paying for them at the time, in exactly the amount required, and leaving the house immediately, as if anxious to avoid notice. He was in the constant habit of receiving anonymous remittances for tickets, and therefore did not attach much importance to this circumstance, although it struck him as being singular in one respect, inasmuch as the greater part of his friends who took tickets for his Sadler's Wells benefits, did not take them on his Covent Garden nights, and vice versâ. The family became at last so used to it, that when they were sorting tickets on the night before one of his benefits, his wife would regularly say, "Don't forget to put ten on the mantelpiece for the gentleman who calls early in the morning." This continued for perhaps twelve years or more, when one day, as his servant was giving him the money, paid as usual by the unknown person for his admissions, he casually inquired of the girl what kind of person in appearance this gentleman was.
"Oh, I really don't know, sir," she replied; "there is nothing particular about him, except—"