We had a quiet day enough. My wife’s brother and his wife came to tea and supper; as also did Dick Berry, an old comrade—pensioned off like myself—and his wife. We had a cosy evening; but Winny and I had our dinner alone. When it was over and I got my pipe, I could not help thinking of very different times—when my poor wife was alive—always so cheerful!—when the two boys, who died with the scarlet fever, were still with us, and when Tom, my other boy, had not gone to Australia. While I was thinking like this, I caught Winny’s eye fixed on my own, and I supposed something of the same train of fancy was in her mind, for she rose from her chair, threw her arms round my neck, and—to my alarm, as well as my surprise, for she was not a girl to give way—burst out sobbing.
I was upset for the moment; but rallying, I said: ‘Come, Winny, my dear! We must keep up a better heart than this. I know you are thinking of the past; but I would rather you, with all your life before you, thought of the future.’
For the moment she was worse instead of better for this cheering up, and I really thought was going to be hysterical; but she rallied herself with a great effort, and after kissing me again and again, dried her eyes, and laughed at herself for being so foolish.
We had no fresh outbreak; but, for all that, I was glad when my friends dropped in and things became more generally cheerful. We had our usual chat, our game at cards; although Winny was a woman grown, she always looked for the ‘speculation’ at Christmas, just as she had done when a child. We had our songs too; but over these, I gave my old friend Dick, who was a beautiful singer—had been better, I know, but was capital still—a hint not to make the ballads too sentimental, consequently he left out Isle of Beauty, which was his great favourite, and worth walking a mile to listen to. So the evening passed off pretty well.
On the next day I was at Mr Thurles’ office again. Being Boxing Day, there was only one clerk there. It was necessary, it appeared, to keep the office open; but no particular business was expected to be done. The clerk on duty was the young man Picknell. He was as pleasant as before, and quite disposed to make the time pass agreeably, so that the loss of my holiday should not be so bad after all. He sent out for a bottle of wine, as on such a day, he said, no one ever came after the morning; and being, it seemed, of an abstemious turn, he meant it all, or nearly all, for me. Now, that was kind of him; but, as it happens, I am abstemious also, and do not care for anything in that way until the evening. However, to show that I appreciated his kindness, I drank a glass or two. Also—it was a waste of good liquor, I own—I threw a little under the grate while he was out of the room. I wanted to please him, and at the same time to keep my head clear.
To keep up the idea that I was enjoying myself, I allowed my tongue to run somewhat more than usual. He was by no means displeased at this, but rather encouraged it. I was at a loss how to introduce the robbery. I wanted to get at the gossip and opinion of the office on the subject; but it was a ticklish matter to begin upon, when the difficulty was solved by Mr Picknell mentioning it. Mr Thurles had told me that only a few of his people knew all the facts of the burglary; but if he thought such a thing was possible, I did not, and would have betted that every man in the concern knew quite as much about it as did his master.
‘Through the window under which you are sitting, David,’ said Mr Picknell—I was ‘David’ as the new porter—‘some thieves broke into the office a little time back. We had a most mysterious robbery here.’
‘Then that must have been what I heard two of the gentlemen talking about the other day,’ I answered. ‘Did you lose much, sir?’
‘I believe not a great deal,’ continued the clerk; ‘and why such expert burglars as these must have been, should not have arranged for a greater haul, no one can guess.’ He went on to tell me, very clearly, how all was supposed to have been done, and in telling me this, he mentioned Mr Godfrey’s name. He showed me where the young man sat, and explained his duties. He touched only slightly upon these things; yet it was quite clear from what he said that no one had such facilities for knowing what was in the safe as Mr Harleston, and no one could so easily have taken a cast of the keys. He did not say this right out, yet he contrived to impress it all upon me as clearly as though he had put it down in writing.
I was easily led, you may suppose, to talk upon this subject, and he led me on accordingly. But, of course, if you lead a man anywhere, you have to go first along the same path, hence, naturally, he had to dwell upon the matter just as much as I did. Having learned so much, I wanted to hear more about Mr Godfrey.