“I see, sir, that you know nothing of the business.”
The whole was explained by Lord Oldborough succinctly. The astonishment and horror in the poor commissioner’s countenance and gestures, and still more, the eagerness with which he begged to be permitted to try to discover the authors of this forgery, were sufficient proofs that he had not the slightest suspicion that the guilt could be traced to any of his own family.
Lord Oldborough’s look, fixed on the commissioner, expressed what it had once before expressed—“Sir, from my soul, I pity you!”
The commissioner saw this look, and wondered why Lord Oldborough should pity him at a time when all his lordship’s feelings should naturally be for himself.
“My lord, I would engage we shall discover—we shall trace it.”
“I believe that I have discovered—that I have traced it,” said Lord Oldborough; and he sighed.
Now that sigh was more incomprehensible to the commissioner than all the rest, and he stood with his lips open for a moment before he could utter, “Why then resign, my lord?”
“That is my affair,” said Lord Oldborough. “Let us, if you please, sir, think of yours; for, probably, this is the only time I shall ever more have it in my power to be of the least service to you.”
“Oh! my lord—my lord, don’t say so!” said the commissioner quite forgetting all his artificial manner, and speaking naturally: “the last time you shall have it in your power!—Oh! my dear lord, don’t say so!”
“My dear sir, I must—it gives me pain—you see it does.”