The time is out of joint;--O cursed spite. That I was ever born to set it right.
_Hamlet._
As the afternoon wore on, on that day when the bank lost its $50,000,Geoffrey Hampstead was back at his work as usual. He did not change hiswaistcoat while at his rooms, because he thought this might be remarked.He merely left the money there, and went back to his work as if nothinghad happened. The excitement among the clerks in the bank was feverish.Geoffrey let them know what he and Dearborn had seen in Jack's room, andthat the confusion there clearly showed that he had gone off somewhere.Most faces looked black at this, but there were several who, in spite ofthe worst appearances, refused to believe in Jack's guilt. Geoffrey wasone of them. Geoffrey was quite broken down. Everybody felt sorry forhim. He had made a great friend of Jack, and every one could see thatthe blow had almost prostrated him.
Toward the end of the afternoon he said to a couple of his friends: "Iwish you fellows would dine with me to-night. I feel as if I had to havesomebody with me."
These two did so. In the evening they picked up some more of the bankmen, and all repaired to Geoffrey's quarters. They saw he was drinkingheavily, and perhaps out of fellow-feeling for a man who had had a blow,they also drank a good deal themselves, and lapsed into hilarity,partly in order to draw Geoffrey out of his gloom.
At one o'clock the night was still young so far as they were concerned,and the liquor in the rooms had run short. Geoffrey did not wish to beleft alone. The noise and foolishness of his friends diverted histhoughts from more unpleasant subjects. When the wine ran out, he saidthey must have some more. They said it would be impossible to get it;but Geoffrey said Patsey Priest could procure it, and he rang on Mrs.Priest's bell until Patsey appeared, looking like a disheveled monkey.He was received with an ovation. Geoffrey gave him the money, and senthim to a neighboring large hotel to get a case of champagne. When hereturned, having accomplished his errand, the young gentlemen wereenthusiastic over him. He was made to stand on a table and take anaffidavit on an album that he had brought the right change back. Thensome jackass said a collection must be taken up for Patsey, and heheaded the list with a dollar. Of course, everybody else gave a dollaralso, because this was such a fine idea. Mr. St. George Le MesurierHector Northcote was delighted with Patsey. "Mr. Priest," he said, "youare a gentleman and a man of finish; but it grieves me to notice thatyour garments, although compatible with genius, do not, of themselves,suggest that luxury which genius should command. Wait here for a moment;you must be clad in costly raiment."
Mr. St. G. Le M. H. Northcote darted unsteadily, not to say lurched,into Geoffrey's room, looking for that "very dreadful waistcoat" whichhe had been pained to see Geoffrey wearing during the day. He found itat once in a closet, and, wrapping it in among several trousers andcoats which he had selected at random, he came out again with the bundlein his hand.
"What are you doing there with my clothes?" asked Geoffrey, risinggood-humoredly, but inwardly nervous, and going toward the bedroom asNorthcote came out.
"I am going to give them to a gentleman whose station in life is notproperly typified in his garb."
Geoffrey did not see the waistcoat lying inside one of the coats in thebundle, and so he thought it better to humor the idea than run anychances. He had taken off this objectionable article before going todinner, intending to come back and burn it when he had more time.
He took the bundle from Northcote and handed it to Patsey as he draggedthat individual to the door. "Here," he said. "Don't come down in ragsto my room again. Now, get out."
Patsey disappeared hurriedly through the door. He had his own opinion ofthese young men who were so ready to pay for the pleasure of knockinghim about, and if he had been required to classify mammalia he would nothave applied the old name of _homo sapiens_ to any species to which theybelonged.
The next day, to kill time during the anxious hours, Geoffrey went outyachting with Dusenall and several others. As the wind fell off, theydid not reach the moorings again until late in the evening, when theydined at the club-house on the island, and slept on the Ideal instead ofgoing home. After an early breakfast the next morning they were rowedacross the bay, and Geoffrey reached the bank at the usual time.
In this way, having been away from town all night, he knew nothing ofthe news that had spread like wildfire through certain circles on theprevious night, that Jack Cresswell had been arrested and brought toToronto. The first person whom he met at the door of the bank was theomnipresent Detective Dearborn, who smiled and asked him what he thoughtof the news.
"What news?" asked Geoffrey, his eyes growing small.
"Why, this," he replied, handing Geoffrey one of the morning papers,which he had not yet seen. Geoffrey read the following, printed in verylarge type, on the first page:
CLEVER CAPTURE!
JACK CRESSWELL, THE VICTORIA BANK ROBBER ARRESTED! THE STOLEN $50,000 SUPPOSED TO BE NOW RECOVERED! EXCITING CHASE AND EXTRAORDINARY DETECTIVE WORK! A BULL'S-EYE FOR DETECTIVE DEARBORN! PRISONER CAPTURED DURING A COLLISION BETWEEN TWO VESSELS! WRECK OF THE STEAMER ELEUSINIAN!! ALL ON BOARD LOST!! EXCEPT THE WILY DETECTIVE. GREAT EXCITEMENT!! FURTHER DISCLOSURES ABOUT THE BANK!!! THE BLOATED ARISTOCRACY SHAKEN TO ITS FOUNDATIONS!!!!
Detective Dearborn, on his arrival in Toronto, was so certain ofconvicting his prisoner that he threw the hungry newspaper reporterssome choice and tempting _morceaux_. And, from the little that he gavethem, they built up such an interesting and imaginative article that onewas forced to think of the scientific society described by Bret Harte,when Mr. Brown--
Reconstructed there. From those same bones an animal that was extremely rare.
Indeed, from the glowing colors in which the detective's chase waspainted, from the many allusions to Jack's high standing in society andhis terrible downfall, from a full description of Jack as being thepetted darling of all the unwise virgins of the upper ten, and from theway that the name of Jack was familiarly bandied about, one necessarilyended the article with a disbelief in any form of respectability,especially in the upper classes, and with a profound conviction thatsociety generally was rotten to the core. The name "Jack" seemed now tohave a criminal sound about it, and reminded the reader of "Thimble-rigJack" and "Jack Sheppard," and other notorieties who have done much toshow that people called "Jack" should be regarded with suspicion.
Mr. Dearborn watched Geoffrey's face as he glanced over the newspaper.Dearborn had a sort of an idea from all he could learn, that Jack hadhad a longer head than his own to back him up, and, for reasons whichneed not be mentioned now, he suspected that there was more than one inthis business.
However, Geoffrey knew that he was being watched, and his nerve wasstill equal to the occasion. He turned white, as a matter of course--sodid everybody in the bank--and Dearborn got no points from his face.
Geoffrey handed him back the paper, and said commiseratingly: "PoorJack, he has dished himself, sure enough, this time."
Dearborn served him then with a subpoena to attend the hearing beforethe police magistrate at an hour which was then striking, and Geoffreywalked over to the police court with him.
Standing-room in the court that day was difficult to get. In the morningwell-worn _habitues_ of that interesting place easily sold the width oftheir bodies on the floor for fifty cents.
Maurice Rankin had rushed off to see Jack in the morning. He knewnothing about the evidence, but he felt that Jack was innocent. He foundhis friend apparently in a sort of stupor, and was hardly recognized byhim.
"You must have the best lawyer I can get to defend you, Jack," he said.
No answer.
"Don't you intend to make any defense or have any assistance? I can getyou a splendid man in two minutes."
Jack shook his head slowly, and said, with an evident effort:
"No. I don't care."
&
nbsp; Rankin did not know what to make of him; but, finally, he said:
"Well, if you won't have any person better, I will sit there, and if Isee my way to anything I'll perhaps say a word. You do not object to mydoing this, do you?" Jack's answer, or rather the motion of his head,might have meant anything, but Rankin took it to mean assent.
At half-past nine, Jack was led from the cell outside to the court-roomby two policemen who seemed partly to support him.
A thrill ran through his old friends when they saw him. His face wasghastly, and his jaw had dropped in an enervated way that gave him theappearance of a man who had been fairly cornered and had "thrown up thesponge" in despair. He had not been brushed or combed for two nights anda day. He still wore his old, dirty sailing clothes. The sailor'ssheath-knife attached to his leather belt had been removed by thepolice. His partial stupor was construed to be dogged sullenness, and itassisted in giving every one a thoroughly bad impression as to hisinnocence.
After he was placed in the dock he sat down and absently picked at someblisters on his hands, until the magistrate spoke to him, and then thepolicemen ordered him to stand up. When he stood thus, partly raisedabove the spectators, his eyes were lusterless and stolid and he lookedvacantly in the direction of the magistrate.
"John Cresswell, it is charged against you that you did, on the 25th dayof August last, at the city of Toronto, in the county of York,feloniously steal, take, and carry away fifty thousand dollars, theproperty of the Victoria Bank of Canada," etc.
Rankin saw that Jack did not comprehend what was going on. He got up,and was going to say something when the magistrate continued:
"Do you wish that the charge against you shall be tried by me or with ajury at the next assizes, or by some other court of competentjurisdiction?"
No answer.
The magistrate looked at Jack keenly. It struck him that the prisonerhad been imbibing and was not yet sober, and so he spoke louder, and ina more explanatory and informal tone.
"You may be tried, if you like, on some other day, before the countyjudge without a jury, or you may wait till the coming assizes and betried with a jury, or, if you consent to it, you may be tried here, now,before me. Which do you wish to do?"
Still no answer.
Rankin considered. He knew nothing of the evidence, and thought itimpossible for Jack to be guilty. He did not wish to relinquish anychances his friend might have with a jury, and he felt that Jack himselfought to answer if he could. He went to him and said simply, for it wasso difficult to make him understand:
"Do you want to be tried now or afterward?"
Jack nodded his head, while he seemed to be trying to collect himself.
"You mean to be tried now?"
Jack looked a little brighter here, and said weakly:
"Certainly--why not?"
Detective Dearborn, had not been idle since his return; and all thewitnesses that the prosecution required were present.
His first witness was Geoffrey Hampstead. His evidence was looked uponby the spectators as uninteresting, and merely for the sake of form.Everybody knew what he had to say. He merely explained how the packet offifty bills belonging to the Victoria Bank had been put in a certainplace on the desk in his box at the bank, and that, he said, was all heknew about it.
At this point, Jack leaned over the bar and said; with a stupid pleasurein his face:
"Morry, there's old Geoffrey. I can see him. What's he talking about?Say, if you get a chance, tell him I am awfully glad to see him again."
Rankin now became convinced that there was something the matter withJack's head, and he resolved to speak to the court to obtain apostponement of the case when the present witness had given hisevidence.
It was also drawn from Geoffrey, by the county attorney, that theprisoner alone had had access to the place where the money lay, that itcould not have been reached from the public hall-way, and that theprisoner had gone out very soon after he had spoken to the witness--whenthe money lay within his reach.
The crown prosecutor said he would ask the witness nothing more atpresent, but would require him again.
Rankin then represented to the police magistrate that his client was tooill to give him any instructions in the matter. The defendant was apersonal friend of his, and although willing to act for him, he was, asyet, completely in the dark as to any of the facts, and in view of thishe deemed it only proper to request that the whole matter should bepostponed until he should be properly able to judge for himself.
The magistrate then asked, with something of a twinkle in his eye.
"What do you think is the matter with your client, Mr. Rankin?"
"It is hard for me, not being a doctor, to say," answered Rankin,looking back thoughtfully toward Jack. "I think, however, that he issuffering from some affection of the brain."
A horse-laugh was heard from some one among the "unwashed," and thepolice strained their heads to see who made the noise. The old plea ofinsanity seemed to be coming up once again, and one man in the crowd wascertainly amused.
The magistrate said: "I do not think there is any reason why I shouldnot go on hearing the evidence, now. I will note your objection, Mr.Rankin, and I perceive that you may be in a rather awkward position,perhaps, if you are in total ignorance of the facts."
Rankin was in a quandary. If he sat down and declined to cross-examinethe witnesses or act for the defendant in any way, Jack might beconvicted, and all chances for technical loopholes of escape might belost forever. There might, however, in this case, if the trial wereforced on, be a ground for some after proceedings on the claim that hedid not get fair play. On the other hand, cross-examination mightpossibly break up the prosecution, if the evidence was weak orunsatisfactory. He came to the conclusion that he would go on andexamine the witness and try to have it understood that he did so underprotest.
After partly explaining to the magistrate what he wished to do, he askedGeoffrey a few questions--not seeing his way at all clearly, but justfor the general purpose of fishing until he elicited something that hemight use.
"You say that after the defendant spoke to you in the bank you heard himgo out through the side door. Where does that side door lead?"
"It leads into an empty hall, and then you go out of an outer side doorinto the street."
"Is not this outer side door sometimes left open in hot weather?"
"Yes, I think it was open all that day."
"How are the partitions between the stalls or boxes of the differentclerks in the Victoria Bank constructed?"
"They are made rather high (about five feet six high) and they are builtof wood--black walnut, I think."
"Then, if the door of your box was closed you could not see who came inor out of Mr. Cresswell's stall?"
"Only through the wicket between our boxes."
"How long after Mr. Cresswell went out did you notice that the money wasgone?"
"I can't quite remember. I was going on with my work with my back to themoney. It might have been from an hour to an hour and a half. I went outto the side door myself for an instant, to see what the weather wasgoing to be in the afternoon. It was some time after I came back that Ifound that the money was gone."
"Then, as far as you are able to tell, somebody might have come into Mr.Cresswell's stall after he went out, and taken the money without yourknowing it?"
"Certainly. There was perhaps an hour and a half in which this couldhave been done."
"This package of money, as it lay, could have been seen from the publichall-way of the bank through your front wicket, could it not?"
"Yes."
"And it was perfectly possible for a person, after seeing the money inthis way, to go around and come in the side door, enter Mr. Cresswell'sbox and take the money?"
"Yes, I have heard of as daring robberies as that."
"Or it would have been easy for any of the other bank officials to havetaken the money?"
"If they had wished to do so--yes."
&nbs
p; "And it would have been possible for you, when you went to the sidedoor, to have handed the money to some one there ready to receive it?"
"Oh, yes," said Geoffrey, laughing; "I might have had a confederateoutside. I could have given a confederate about two hundred thousanddollars that morning, I think."
"Thank you," said Rankin to Geoffrey, as he sat down.
Geoffrey saw what Rankin wanted, and he assisted him as far as he couldto open up any other possibilities to account for the disappearance ofthe money.
The cabman who removed Jack's valises early in the morning was thencalled. He identified Jack as the person who had engaged him. Had beenoften engaged before by Mr. Cresswell. He also identified Jack'svalises, which were produced.
Rankin did not cross-examine this man. His evidence was brought in toshow that Jack's absconding was a carefully planned one--partly put intoaction before the stealing of the money--and not the result of any hastyimpulse.
The caretaker of the yacht-club house was also called, for the sameobject. He told what he knew, and was restrained with difficulty fromcontinually saying that he did not see anything suspicious about what hesaw. The caretaker was evidently partial to the prisoner.
Detective Dearborn then took the stand, and as he proceeded in his storythe interest grew intense. But when he mentioned meeting a young lady onthe steamboat, and getting into a conversation with her, Rankin aroseand said he had no doubt there were few ladies who could resist hisfriend Detective Dearborn, but that he did not see what she had to dowith the case.
Then the county attorney jumped to his feet and contended that thisevidence was admissible to show that this woman was going to the sameplace as the prisoner and had conspired with the prisoner to rob thebank.
Rankin replied that there was no charge against the prisoner forconspiracy, that the woman was not mentioned in the charge, and unlessit were shown that she was in some way connected with the prisoner inthe larceny evidence as to her conversations could not be received ifnot spoken in the prisoner's presence.
Rankin had no idea who this woman was or what she had said. He onlychoked off everything he could on general principles.
The magistrate refused to receive as evidence the conversation betweenher and the detective. So Rankin made his point, not knowing howvaluable it was to his client.
Detective Dearborn was much chagrined at this. He thought that hisstory, as an interesting narrative of detective life, was quite spoiledby the omission, and he blurted out as a sort of "aside" to thespectators:
"Well, any way, she said she was Cresswell's wife."
This remark created a sensation in court, as he anticipated. But themagistrate rebuked him very sharply for it, saying: "I would have youremember that the evidence of very zealous police officers is alwayssufficiently open to suspicion. Showing more zeal than the law allows toobtain a conviction does not improve your condition as a witness."
Although merited, this was a sore snub for the able detective, and itseemed quite to take the heart out of him; but he afterward recoveredhimself as he fell to describing what had occurred in the collision andhow he had got on board the North Star--the sole survivor from theEleusinian. In speaking of the arrest he did not say that he hadprevented Jack from saving the life dearest on earth to him. He gave thetruth a very unpleasant turn against the prisoner by saying that Jackstruggled violently to escape from the arrest and tried to throwhimself overboard. This, of course, gave all the impression that he wasready to seek death rather than be captured. It gave a desperate aspectto his conduct, and accorded well with his sullen appearance in thecourt-room. Dearborn suppressed the fact that Jack had been deliriousand raving for twelve hours afterward, as this might explain his presentcondition and cause delay. He had lost no opportunity of circulating thesuggestion that he was shamming insanity.
After he had briefly described his return to Toronto with his prisoner,the crown attorney asked him:
"Did you find any articles upon his person?"
"Yes; I took this knife away from him."
"Ah, indeed!" said the crown attorney, taking the knife and examiningit. "Quite a murderous-looking weapon."
"Which will be found strapped to the back of every sailor thatbreathes," interrupted Rankin indignantly. "I hope my learned friendwon't arrest his barber for using razors in his daily work."
"And what else did you find upon him?" asked the attorney, returning tothe case for want of good retort.
Detective Dearborn thought a sensation agreeable to himself wouldcertainly be made by his answer:
"Well," he said, with the _sang froid_ with which detectives delight tomake their best points, "I found on him two of the stolenone-thousand-dollar bills--"
"Now, now, now!" cried Rankin, jumping to his feet in an instant. "Youcan not possibly know that of your own knowledge. You are getting toozealous again, Mr. Dearborn."
"Don't alarm yourself, my acute friend," said the crown attorney,conscious that all the evidence he required was coming on afterward. "Wewill prove the identity of the recovered bills to your most completesatisfaction." Then, turning to the witness, he said: "Go on."
Dearborn, who had made the little stir he expected went on to explainwhat the other moneys were that he had found on Jack, and described howhe found the bills pinned securely inside a watch-pocket of a waistcoatthat he wore underneath his outer shirt.
Rankin asked Dearborn only one question. There did not seem to be anyuse in resisting the matter except on the one point which remained to beproved.
"You do not pretend to identify these bills yourself?"
"No, sir, I don't. But we'll fix that all right for you," he said,triumphantly, as he descended from the box.
The clerk in the Montreal Telegraph Company's office who compared thenumbers of the bills with the list of numbers sent from New York, thenidentified the two recovered bills beyond any doubt. He also swore thathe personally deposited the package of bills with the receiving tellerof the Victoria Bank.
The receiving teller swore to having received such a package and havinghanded it to Mr. Hampstead to be used in his department.
Geoffrey Hampstead was recalled, and acknowledged receiving such apackage from the other clerk. But what surprised everybody was that hetook up the recovered bills and swore positively that the stolen billswere of a light-brown color, and not dark-green, like the ones found onthe prisoner.
Geoffrey had seen that the whole case depended on the identification ofthese bills. If he could break the evidence of the other witnessessufficiently on this point, there might, he thought, be a chance ofhaving Jack liberated.
A peculiar thing happened here, which startled the dense mass of peoplelooking on.
The prisoner arose to his feet, and, taking hold of the railing tosteady himself, said in a rolling, hollow voice, while Geoffrey wasswearing that the stolen bills were of a light-brown color:
"Geoffrey, old man, don't tell any lies on my account. The bills wereall dark-green." Then he sat down again wearily.
If there was a man in the room who until now had still hoped that Jackwas innocent, his last clinging hope was dissipated by this speech.
A deep silence prevailed for an instant, as the conviction of his guiltsank into every heart.
Some said it was just like Geoffrey to go up and try to swear his friendoff. They thought it was like him, inasmuch as it was a daring strokewhich was aimed at the root of the whole prosecution. Probably he lostfew friends among those who thought he had perjured himself for thisobject. Those who did not think this, supposed he was mistaken in hisrecollection as to the color of the bills. A small special edition of avulgar newspaper, issued an hour afterward, said:
"In this case of Regina _vs._ Cresswell, if Hampstead had been able toshake the identification of these bills no doubt Regina would have 'gotleft.'"
When Jack had returned to consciousness, at Port Dalhousie, it was onlypartially. He looked at the detective dreamily when informed that he hadto go to Toronto.
He felt desperately ill and weak, and thought of onething only--Nina's death. Even that he only realized faintly. Mentallyand bodily he was like a water-logged wreck that could be towed aboutfrom place to place but was capable in itself of doing little more thanbarely floating. When Rankin had spoken to him, before the trial, aboutgetting a lawyer, he was merely conscious of a slight annoyance thatdisturbed the one weak current of his thought. When the magistrate hadaddressed him in the court-room, the change from the dark cell to thelight room and the crowd of faces had nearly banished again the few raysof intelligence which he possessed. He did not know what the magistratewas saying. Vaguely conscious that there was some charge against him, hewas paralyzed by a death-like weakness which prevented his caring in theslightest degree what happened. When Rankin spoke incisively to him, thevoice was familiar, and he was able to make an answer, and in the courseof the trial gleams of intelligence came to him. The vibrations ofGeoffrey's well-known voice aroused him with a half-thrill of pleasure,and during the re-examination he had partly comprehended that there wassome charge against him about these bills, and he came to the conclusionthat as Geoffrey must have known the true color of the bills, he wasonly telling an untruth for the purpose of getting him off. This was asfar as his intelligence climbed, and when he sat down again the exertionproved too much for him, and his mind wandered.
Of course, after this terribly damaging remark, there was nothing leftfor Rankin to cling to. Clearly, Jack knew all about the bills, and hadgiven up all hope of acquittal. The two other clerks were called tocontradict Geoffrey as to the color of the bills, and with that the casefor the prosecution closed.
Rankin said he was as yet unprepared with any evidence for the defense.Evidence of previous good character could certainly be obtained in anyquantity from any person who had ever known the prisoner, and, in anycase, he should be allowed time to produce this evidence. He easilyshowed a number of reasons why a postponement for a week should begranted.
The magistrate shook his head, and then told John Cresswell to stand up.
Jack was partly hoisted up by a policeman. He stood holding on to thebar in front of him with his head down, perhaps the most guilty lookingindividual that had been in that dock for a month.
"John Cresswell, the evidence against you in this case leaves no shadowof doubt in my mind that you are guilty of the offense charged. Yourcounsel has requested a delay in order that your defense may be morethoroughly gone into. I have watched your demeanor throughout the trial,and, although a little doubtful at first, I have come to the conclusionthat you are shamming insanity. I saw you on several occasions lookperfectly intelligent, and your remarks show that you fully understandthe bearing of the case. I will therefore refuse to postpone the trialfurther than three o'clock this afternoon. This will give your counselan opportunity to produce evidence of previous good character or anyother evidence that he may wish to bring forward. Forty-eight thousanddollars of the stolen money are still missing, and, so far, I certainlypresume that you know where that large sum of money is secreted. Unlessthe aspect of the case be changed by further evidence sentence will bepassed on you this afternoon, and I wish to tell you now that if, in themean time, you make restitution of the money, such action on your partmay materially affect the sentence I shall pass upon you."
The magistrate was going on to say: "I will adjourn the court now untilthree o'clock," when he perceived that Jack, who was still standing, wasspeaking to him and looking at him vacantly. What Jack said while hishead swayed about drunkenly was this:
"If you'll let me off this watch now I'll do double time to-morrow,governor. I never was sea-sick before, but I must turn in for a while,for I can't stand without holding on to something."
Nobody knew what to make of this except Detective Dearborn, who hadpossessed all along the clew to his distressing condition. But what didthe detective care for his condition? John Cresswell was black withguilt. The fact of his being "cut up" because, a woman got drowned didnot change his guilt. He and that deuced fine woman were partners inthis business, and forty-eight thousand had gone to the bottom of thelake in her pocket The detective could not forgive himself for notallowing Jack to try and save the girl. The girl herself was no object,but it would have fetched things out beautifully as a culmination ofdetective work to bring her back also--along with the money. Forty-eightand two would make fifty, and if the bank could not afford to give awayone in consideration of getting back the forty-nine--Bah! he knew hismad thirst to hold his prey had made him a fool.
Was it the formation of his jaw? They say a bull-dog is not the bestfighter, because he will not let go his first grip in order to take abetter one.
The court-room was empty in five minutes after the adjournment, and acouple of the "Vics" followed Jack down-stairs. Rankin went down alsoand was going to get Jack some stimulant, but he found the bank fellowsahead of him. One of them had got a pint of "fizz," another had procuredfrom the neighboring restaurant some oysters and a small flask ofbrandy.
These young men were beautiful in the matter of stand-up collars, theirlinen was chaste, and extensive, and-their clothes ornamental, but theycould stick to a friend. The language of these young men, who showedsuch a laxity in moral tone as to attempt to refresh an undoubtedcriminal, was ordinarily almost too correct, but now they were profane.Every one of them had been fond of Jack, and their sympathy was greaterthan their self-control. For once they forgot to be respectable, andwere cursing to keep themselves from showing too much feeling--a phasenot uncommon.
Rankin saw Jack take some brandy and that afterward he was able to peckat the oysters. Then he walked off to No. 173 Tremaine Buildings tothink out what had best be done and to have a solitary piece of breadand butter, and perhaps a cup of tea, if Mrs. Priest's stove happened tohave a fire in it.