I was very sore in my heart. From the moment in which the words of beggary had passed from my lips, I had repented. And he had laughed and had taken it gaily. I turned upon him and told him that I had changed my mind. I was grateful, but I would not have his money. And so I prepared to go. But he argued with me, and would not let me go--telling me of my wife and of my children, and while he argued there came a knock on the door, and something was handed in, and I knew that it was the hand of his wife.'
'It was the money, I suppose?'
'Yes, Mr Toogood; it was the money. And I became the more uneasy, because she herself is rich. I liked it the less because it seemed to come from her hand. But I took it. What could I do when he reminded me that I could not keep my parish unless certain sums were paid? He gave me a little parcel in a cover, and I took it--and left him sorrowing. Ihad never before come quite to that;--though, indeed, it had in fact been often so before. What was the difference whether the alms were given into my hands or into my wife's?'
'You are too touchy about it all, Mr Crawley.'
'Of course I am. Do you try it, and see whether you will be touchy. You have worked hard at your profession, I daresay.'
'Well, yes; pretty well. To tell the truth, I have worked hard. By George, yes! It's not so bad now as it used to be.'
'But you have always earned your bread; bread for yourself, and bread for your wife and little ones. You can buy tickets for the play.'
'I couldn't always buy tickets, mind you.'
'I have worked as hard, and yet I cannot get bread. I am older than you, and I cannot earn my bare bread. Look at my clothes. If you had to go and beg from Mr Crump, would you not be touchy?'
'As it happens, Crump isn't so well off as I am.'
'Never mind. But I took it, and went home, and for two days I did not look at it. And then there came an illness upon me, and I know not what passed. But two men who had been hard on me came to the house when I was out, and my wife was in a terrible state; and I gave her the money, and she went into Silverbridge and paid them.'
'And this cheque was with what you gave her?'
'No; I gave her money in notes--just fifty pounds. When I gave it her, I thought I gave it all; and yet afterwards I thought I remembered that in my illness I had found the cheque with the dean's money. But it was not so.'
'You are sure of that?'
'He has said that he put fives notes of ten pounds each into the cover, and such notes I certainly gave to my wife.'
'Where then did you get the cheque?' Mr Crawley again paused before he answered. 'Surely, if you will exert your mind, you will remember,' said the lawyer. 'Where did you get the cheque?'
'I do not know.'
Mr Toogood threw himself back in his chair, took his knee up into his lap to nurse it, and began to think of it. He sat thinking of it for some minutes without a word--perhaps for five minutes, though the time seemed to be much longer to Mr Crawley, who was, however, determined that he would not interrupt him. And Mr Toogood's thoughts were at variance with Mr Toogood's former words. Perhaps, after all, this scheme of Mr Crawley's--or rather the mode of defence on which he had resolved without any scheme--might be the best of which the case admitted. It might be well that he should go into court without a lawyer. 'He has convinced me of his innocence,' Mr Toogood said to himself, 'and why should he not convince a jury? He has convinced me, not because I am specially soft, or because I love the man--for as to that I dislike him rather than otherwise;--but because there is either real truth in his words, or else so well-feigned a show a truth that no jury can tell the difference. I think it is true. By George, I think he did get the twenty pounds honestly, and that he does not this moment know where he got it.
He may have put his finger into my eye; but, if so, why not also into the eyes of a jury?' Then he released his leg, and spoke something of his thoughts aloud. 'It's a sad story,' he said; 'a very sad story.'
'Well, yes, it's sad enough. If you could see my house, you'd say so.'
'I haven't a doubt but what you're as innocent as I am.' Mr Toogood, as he said this, felt a little tinge of conscience. He did believe Mr Crawley to be innocent, but he was not so sure of it as his words would seem to imply. Nevertheless he repeated the words again--'as innocent as I am.'
'I don't know,' said Mr Crawley. 'I don't know. I think I am; but Idon't know.'
'I believe you are. But you see the case is a very distressing one. Ajury has a right to say that the man in possession of a cheque for twenty pounds should account for his possession of it. If I understand the story aright, Mr Soames will be able to prove that he brought the cheque into your house, and, as far as he knows, never took it out again.'
