Busy as he still was, the lawyer set aside his own affairs, in deference to the sacred duty of defending the memory of the dead, and to the pressing necessity of silencing Mrs. Gallilee’s cruel and slanderous tongue. Arrived at Baccani’s lodgings, he was informed that the language-master had gone to his dinner at a neighbouring restaurant. Mr. Mool waited at the lodgings, and sent a note to Baccani. In ten minutes more he found himself in the presence of an elderly man, of ascetic appearance; whose looks and tones showed him to be apt to take offence on small provocation, and more than half ready to suspect an eminent solicitor of being a spy.
But Mr. Mool’s experience was equal to the call on it. Having fully explained the object that he had in view, he left the apology for his intrusion to be inferred, and concluded by appealing, in his own modest way, to the sympathy of an honourable man.
Silently forming his opinion of the lawyer, while he listened, Baccani expressed the conclusion at which he had arrived, in these terms:
“My experience of mankind, sir, has been a bitterly bad one. You have improved my opinion of human nature since you entered this room. That is not a little thing to say, at my age and in my circumstances.”
He bowed gravely, and turned to his bed. From under it, he pulled out a clumsy tin box. Having opened the rusty lock with some difficulty, he produced a ragged pocket-book, and picked out from it a paper which looked like an old letter.
“There,” he said, handing the paper to Mr. Mool, “is the statement which vindicates this lady’s reputation. Before you open the manuscript I must tell you how I came by it.”
He appeared to feel such embarrassment in approaching the subject, that Mr. Mool interposed. “I am already acquainted,” he said, “with some of the circumstances to which you are about to allude. I happen to know of the wager in which the calumny originated, and of the manner in which that wager was decided. The events which followed are the only events that I need trouble you to describe.”
Baccani’s grateful sense of relief avowed itself without reserve. “I feel your kindness,” he said, “almost as keenly as I feel my own disgraceful conduct, in permitting a woman’s reputation to be made the subject of a wager. From whom did you obtain your information?”
“From the person who mentioned your name to me—Doctor Benjulia.”
Baccani lifted his hand with a gesture of angry protest.