The American Boy

'Then it is evident that you do not know Mr Carswall.'

'That is unnecessary, Tom. And unkind.'

'But it is true.'

Dansey's lips tightened. His face wore the expression it had when he was about to beat a boy. He said quietly, 'There is one further particular. According to the letter, when he discovered the loss, Mr Carswall immediately made inquiries; and a footman said he had come across you mending your coat, your topcoat, with a needle and thread during the evening, a circumstance which struck him as unusual: in the ordinary course of things, he thought, a man in your position would have asked one of the maids. Moreover, the servant claimed, you appeared embarrassed to be caught with the needle in your hand and thrust the mending away from you.'

I smacked the palm of my hand against the surface of the table. 'It is a fabrication concocted by that villain Carswall with the aid of an equally villainous footman. I wondered at the time at the servants' kindness to me on my last evening.'

'The coat, Tom,' Dansey said quietly.

'What of it? It is hanging over there.'

'Bring it here.'

I stared at him in silence, while thoughts rushed in an angry torrent through my mind. After a moment, I fetched the coat from its hook and, still without a word, laid it on the table between us. Dansey explored the pockets, and methodically felt the lining. His fingers paused when he reached a place at the bottom of the coat, close to a spot where a seam ran down from the waist to the hem. Slowly he raised his head and looked at me.

'There is something here.'

'That may be so. But that is not to say I put it there.' They were the wrong words: they made me sound defensive, like a rogue squirming in the dock. I went on quickly, 'Here – take my penknife, see what it is.'

Dansey opened the knife and sliced through the stitches of the seam with the tip of the blade. The thread was black but some of the stitches were darker, as if recently renewed. He worked his fingers into the gap and folded back the lining.

'It is tucked into the hem itself, I fancy,' he said. 'A few of the stitches are cut so it forms a little pocket.'

He drew out a paper that had been folded into a compact square. He laid this on the table and opened it. I saw a scrap of writing on the paper, my own writing, and there at last was the ring in all its glory. I pushed my hand across the table and picked it up. Dansey made no move to prevent me. My head was swimming.

'Yes, Ned: it is the very ring that Mr Carswall describes. Underneath the stone is a scrap of Mrs Parker's hair. You see?' I dropped it on the table.

He let it lie. 'It is your handwriting on the paper, is it not?'

'Indeed it is.' I took up the paper and examined it under the lamp. Caesar commanded the legions to march to their winter quarters. 'Yes, it is part of a translation I set Charlie and Edgar, one of the last tasks I gave them. Look – the paper is crumpled. When they finished they must have thrown it away.'

'You suggest that someone found it and used it to wrap the ring, knowing that it would implicate you further?'

'I cannot think of any other explanation.'

The waiter was approaching. Dansey dropped his glove on top of the ring. Neither of us spoke again until the dishes had been laid on the table, and the man was gone.

'Mr Carswall begged Mr Bransby to examine your coat when you arrived back at the school,' Dansey said. 'If the ring were found, he wrote, he regretted that he might be obliged to press charges. He added something to the effect that he would see that neither Mr Bransby nor the school should suffer.'

The food grew cold on our plates. Around us the noise rose and fell like waves breaking on a beach. Carswall had manufactured a neat little plot. Involving Mr Bransby as his agent was particularly astute. Who would doubt the word of a clergyman, and one who had so benevolently offered me a position as a favour to an old servant, my aunt? And if public scandal resulted, it would do so from Stoke Newington, not Monkshill-park.

'Carswall is a tyrant and a lecher in his own house,' I said. 'Particularly when drunk. The other evening, I restrained him from paying unwanted attentions to Mrs Frant.'

Dansey cut into his meat. 'Were there witnesses?'

'None that I know of, apart from Mrs Frant. It is possible that Miss Carswall and some of the servants heard our altercation, but that would not answer.'

'Would Mrs Frant testify to that effect?'

'I would not ask her to do so. I could not ask it of her, Ned, you must see that. Besides, she and Charlie are dependent on Carswall for the clothes on their backs and the roof over their heads.'

'I see.'

I picked up my knife. For a few minutes we ate in silence. If the case came to court, and if it went badly for me, I might find myself facing transportation, or even the gallows. My fate hinged on Edward Dansey.

'What do you intend to do?' I asked.

He continued chewing, slowly, very deliberately. He was a fastidious fellow, Dansey. I could not hurry him and I could not persuade him. There, on the other side of the table, sat my judge and jury: and all I could do was wait to hear the verdict and the sentence.

'I tell you fairly, Tom, it looks black.'

'I am not a thief.'

The Janus face saw both ways. 'Mr Carswall is a respectable citizen, a man with a considerable position in the world,' Dansey said. 'And Mr Bransby is both a man of the cloth and our employer.'

'Mr Bransby is anxious to oblige Mr Carswall.'

Dansey did not reply. All of a sudden, I knew I might have added And you in turn are anxious to oblige Mr Bransby. There at last was the nub of the matter: Dansey did not want to imperil his position; on the other hand, his conscience was a tender organ and, despite the ring now lying under his glove, he could not be sure that I was not speaking the truth. Indeed, I think he wanted to believe me.

'Mr Bransby does not know you are here?'

He gave a little shake of the head.

'If Mr Carswall were to lay charges against me, everything would depend on the ring,' I said. 'Without the ring, there would be no case to answer.'

'Very probably.' Dansey pushed aside his plate. 'Believe me, Tom, I do not know what to think.'

'You mean whom to believe.'

He darted an imploring glance at me. 'If I did, it would be so much easier.'

'Then you must do as you think right.'

He took out his purse and laid a few coins on the table. He picked up his gloves and slid along the bench and out of the booth. He did not once look at me, but I watched him. He put on his coat and hat and wound his muffler round his neck. At last he pulled on his gloves, nodded to the waiter and left.

My eyes were hot, and I could have wept for the injustice of it all. Instead, I cupped my hand over the ring and drew it towards me.

66

I slept – or rather lay – that night in a lodging house in an alley off Fetter-lane. It was a daedal maze of chambers like evil-smelling cupboards; but I paid to have a room to myself and wedged the palliasse against the door. The only intruders were rats and insects, though the house around me was never still, never quiet.

My mind was equally restless. Even if I disposed of the ring, I did not think it would be wise for me to return to Stoke Newington. Mr Bransby was not a corrupt man but he was zealous in attending to the wishes of wealthy parents and guardians. I had little doubt he would dismiss me from his employment; leaving aside the accusation of theft, either of the other accusations was sufficiently grave to justify him in dispensing with my services.

Dansey's conduct saddened me, though by warning me of what was afoot, he had saved me from almost