The cries rose in a tumult of angry voices. When they were at their height M'Ginnis was seen on his feet and waving his arms.
"Let him say what he's got to!" he shouted. "You chaps know as well as I do what's been going the rounds, and we might as well have it out now. If it's not true, Michael'd rather have the strength of it, and give you his answer ... and if there is anything in it, we've got a right to know."
"That's right!" some of the men near him chorused.
Newton looked towards George, and George towards Michael.
"Might as well have it," Michael said.
Charley, who had been hustled against the wall by Potch and Bully Bryant, was loosed. He moved a few steps forward so that everyone could see him, and breathlessly, shivering, in a frenzy of triumphant malice, told his story. Rouminof, carried away by excitement, edged alongside him, chiming into what he was saying with exclamations and chippings of corroboration.
When Charley had finished talking and had fallen back exhausted, Armitage left his chair as if to continue what he had been going to say when Charley took the floor. Instead, he hesitated, and, feeling his way through the silence of consternation and dismay which had stricken everybody, said uncertainly:
"Much as I regret having to do so, I consider it my duty to state that Charley Heathfield's story, as far as I know it, is substantially correct. Some time ago I was sold a stone in New York. As soon as he saw it, my father said, 'Why, that's Michael's mascot.' I asked him if he were sure, and he declared that he could not be mistaken about the stone....
"I told him the story I had got with it. Charley has already told you. That stone came from a parcel Charley supposed contained Rouminof's opals—the one Paul got when Jun Johnson and he had a run of luck together. The parcel did not contain Rouminof's opals, and had been exchanged for the parcel which did, either while Rouminof and Charley were going home together or after he had taken them from Rouminof. My father refused to believe that Michael Brady had anything to do with the business. I made further inquiries, and satisfied myself that the man who had always seemed to me the soul of honour and a pattern of the altruistic virtues, I must confess, was responsible for placing that stone in the parcel Charley took down to Sydney ... and also that Michael had possession of Rouminof's opals. Mrs. Johnson will swear she saw Rouminof's stones on the table of Michael Brady's hut one evening nearly two years ago.
"I approached Michael myself to try to discover more of the stones. He denied all knowledge of them. But now, before you all, and because it seems to me an outrageous thing for people to ruin themselves on account of their belief in a man who is utterly unworthy of it, I accuse Michael Brady of having stolen Rouminof's opals. If he has anything to say, now is the time to say it."