"I think the enquiry should be reopened," said Mr. Ollivera, addressing chiefly his uncle. "When I have spoken of pursuing it before, I was always met, both by Butterby and others, with the confuting argument that this letter was in my way. To say the truth, I found it a little so myself always. Always until this day."
"Don't bring up Butterby as an authority, William," interposed Mr. Greatorex. "If Butterby cannot conduct other cases better than he has conducted the one concerning our lost cheque, I'd not give a feather for him and his opinions."
For the purloiner of that cheque remained an undiscovered puzzle; and the house of Greatorex and Greatorex (always excepting one of them) felt very sore upon the point, and showed it.
"William is right, Bede. This discovery removes a mountain of uncertainty and doubt. And if, by ventilating the unhappy affair again we can unfold the mystery that attaches to it, and so clear John's name and memory, it ought to be done."
"But what can be tried, sir, or done, more than has been?" asked Bede, in a tone of reasoning.
"I don't know. Something may be. Of one thing I have felt a conviction all along--that if John's life was rudely taken by man's wicked hand, heaven will in time bring it to light. The old saying, that 'Murder will out,' is a very sure one."
"I do not think it has proved so in every instance," returned Bede, dreamily carrying his recollection backwards. "Some cases have remained undiscovered always."
"Yes, to the world," acquiesced Mr. Greatorex. "But there lies a firm belief in my mind that no man--or woman either--over committed a wilful murder, but someone or other suspected him in their secret heart, and saw him in all his naked, miserable sin."
"Don't bring woman's name in, father. I never like to hear it done."
Bede spoke in the somewhat fractious tone he had grown often to use; that it was but the natural outlet of some inward pain none could doubt. Mr. Greatorex put it down chiefly to bodily suffering.