I then understood what Jenny meant when she talked of making the case complete. He swore again that his name was Carstairs: that he had held preferment in the county of Dublin: he named, in fact, three places: he had never used any other name: he was not once called Onslow, at another time Osborne: at another Oxborough: he knew nothing about these names: he had never been tried at York for fraud: or at Winchester for embezzlement: he had never been whipped at the cart-tail at Portsmouth. As these lies ran out glibly I began to take heart. I looked at Probus: he was sitting on the bench, his fingers interlaced, cold drops of dew rising upon his forehead and nose. But the Bishop held out bravely, that is, with a brazen impudence.
'You know, Doctor, I believe, the Black Jack?'
'A tavern, is it? No, sir, I do not. One of my profession should not be seen in taverns.'
'Yet surely you know the Black Jack, close to St. Giles's Church?'
'No, sir, I am a stranger in London.'
'Do you know the nickname of the "Bishop"?'
'No.'
'Oh! you never were called the "Bishop"?'
'No.'
'Do you know the gallant gentleman who rescued you?'