Part 66 (2/2)
The next moment the man who had followed her was chatting familiarly with the subordinate, and helping him to put up the shutters.
”I say, d.i.c.k,” said the youngster, ”Penfolds is up in the market; a d.u.c.h.ess was here just now, and gave me a soy, to tell her where he lived.
Wait a moment till I spit on it for luck.”
The agent, however, did not wait to witness that interesting ceremony. He went back to his hansom round the corner, and drove at once to Arthur Wardlaw's house with the information.
Helen noted down Michael Penfold's address in her diary, and would have gone to him that evening, but she was to dine _tete-a-tete_ with her father.
Next day she went down to 3 Fairfield Cottages at half past four. On the way her heart palpitated, for this was a very important interview. Here at least she might hope to find some clew, by following out which she would sooner or later establish Robert's innocence. But then came a fearful thought: ”Why had not his father done this already, if it was possible to do it? His father must love him. His father must have heard his own story, and tested it in every way. Yet his father remained the servant of a firm, the senior partner of which had told her to her face Robert was guilty.”
It was a strange and terrible enigma. Yet she clung to the belief that some new light would come to her from Michael Penfold. Then came bashful fears. ”How should she account to Mr. Penfold for the interest she took in his own son, she who was affianced to Mr. Penfold's employer.” She arrived at 3 Fairfield Cottages with her cheeks burning, and repeating to herself: ”Now is the time to be supple as a woman but obstinate as a man.”
She sent the cabman in to inquire for Mr. Penfold; a sharp girl of about thirteen came out to her, and told her Mr. Penfold was not at home.
”Can you tell me when he will be at home?”
”No, miss. He have gone to Scotland. A telegraphum came from Wardlaws'
last night, as he was to go to Scotland first thing this morning; and he went at six o'clock.”
”Oh, dear! How unfortunate!”
”Who shall I say called, miss?”
”Thank you, I will write. What time did the telegram come?”
”Between five and six last evening, miss.”
She returned to the hotel. Fate seemed to be against her. Baffled at the very threshold! At the hotel she found Arthur Wardlaw's card and a beautiful bouquet.
She sat down directly, and wrote to him affectionately, and asked him in the postscript if he could send her a report of the trial. She received a reply directly, that he had inquired in the office, for one of the clerks had reports of it; but this clerk was unfortunately out, and had locked up his desk.
Helen sighed. Her feet seemed to be clogged at every step in this inquiry.
Next morning, however, a large envelope came for her, and a Mr. Hand wrote to her thus:
”MADAM--Having been requested by Mr. Arthur Wardlaw to send you my extracts of a trial, the Queen _v._ Penfold, I herewith forward the same, and would feel obliged by your returning them at your convenience.
”Your obedient servant,
”JAMES HAND.”
Helen took the inclosed extracts to her bedroom, and there read them both over many times.
In both these reports the case for the Crown was neat, clear, cogent, straight-forward, and supported by evidence. The defense was chiefly argument of counsel to prove the improbability of a clergyman and a man of good character pa.s.sing a forged note. One of the reports stated that Mr. Arthur Wardlaw, a son of the princ.i.p.al witness, had taken the accusation so much to heart that he was now dangerously ill at Oxford.
The other report did not contain this, but, on the other hand, it stated that the prisoner, after conviction, had endeavored to lay the blame on Mr. Arthur Wardlaw, but that the judge had stopped him, and said he could only aggravate his offense by endeavoring to cast a slur upon the Wardlaws, who had both shown a manifest desire to s.h.i.+eld him, but were powerless for want of evidence.
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