I was fairly surprised at this, and liked the old fellow for being so much in earnest. I felt that I could not let him outdo me, and said so.
Two minutes told me what I was expected to say, and the case for the prosecution being closed, I was at once called on. I was the only witness for the defence. Long-necked Sam was not likely to call any of his friends as to character, and indeed all his ‘pals’ were shy of showing themselves in the Old Bailey when the trials were on and the police about. Braceby had recollected on the very morning of the trial, that the day on which the burglary took place was the St Leger day, and that I had met him late in the evening and expressed my wonder that he was not down at the races. Had he not been able to fix the day by this incident, it would have gone hard with him; but I was able to prove beyond all sort of doubt that I was in his company, fully five miles from the scene of the burglary, at the very moment the robber, whoever he was, was leaving the house. So it was impossible that Sam could have been the burglar, and the case virtually broke down at once.
The prosecuting counsel and, for the matter of that, the judge also, or I fancied so, looked anything but pleased at my interference, and some of my old comrades rallied me a little on my new friends—but that was all in good temper.
Sam met me outside the court, and rough as he was, the tears stood in his eyes as he thanked me. ‘I won’t ask you to have a glass with me, Mr Holdrey,’ he said, ‘because I know I am not in your line. I daresay you will live to see me in the dock again and to hear of my getting a lifer. But if, afore that comes on, I can do anything to show you what I think of you to-day, I will do it; and if I send that pretty daughter of yours a present—and I have watched her bright face many a day, when she did not know I was looking at her—if I send her a present, it shall be something as I have come by honestly, and that she needn’t be afraid of taking from my hands.’
Having got rid of him, I went home, all the more disposed to enjoy my daughter’s conversation—and she had always plenty to tell me of her little adventures during the day—and all the more inclined to enjoy my unread newspaper, from the long and disagreeable business I had gone through.
Winny came in soon after me; her place had closed a little earlier, being so near Christmas. I was glad I had got home first, as she might have been anxious about me and my going off so suddenly. I told her my adventures; and when I said it was almost a pity that I had been able to clear such a bad lot as Sam undoubtedly was, and had always been, as he would be sure to do some harm soon, she put her hand over my mouth, to prevent my saying anything so wicked. The poor creature had one more chance, she said, and perhaps he would make good use of it—there was hope for everybody. I knew, better perhaps than she did, how much hope there was for Sam; but Winny was always soft-hearted, and took the most favourable view of everything. I gave way to her; and somehow, she seemed to be more affectionate than ever that night, and I felt pleased at the idea of a quiet evening with her. Then she got her needlework, and I my pipe, while the beating of the rain against the window—for the wind had risen at nightfall—made everything seem brighter and cosier than before. I had scarcely taken a single whiff, when I heard a vehicle stop opposite the house, then a double knock followed. ‘Some one for the landlord,’ I thought. But no; it was for me, and for the second time that day I told the servant to show a strange gentleman in.
This arrival was a very different-looking man from the shabby clerk from Browle the lawyer, but his errand was much the same in effect. It was to take me out; indeed, a cab had been brought so that no time should be lost, and the stranger was directed to take me to the private house of Mr Thurles—Mr Thurles of Cornhill, the man explained.
I knew who Mr Thurles was—knew where he lived, and knew his house of business as well as I knew St Paul’s; but I had never spoken to him; and what he wanted me for, I could not guess. And what was stranger, the messenger knew little more than I did. He was valet, or butler, or something; but all he had been told was to ask Mr Holdrey to accompany him, and to say, if any objection should be made, that money was no object. He believed it was about a robbery—that was all he knew.
This sounded stranger still; and I turned to my daughter to say something about it, when I was horrified at her pale, almost ghastly looks. All the bloom had gone from her face, and she held one hand on her breast as if to stop her heart from beating too violently.
‘Why, Winny, what are you frightened at?’ I exclaimed. ‘There is no harm in my being sent for by Mr Thurles, who is a highly respectable gentleman. You should not let yourself be excited.’