He Knew He Was Right

went away at once to Trevelyan, whom he found at his chambers. He himself had had no very deep-laid scheme in his addresses to Colonel Osborne. He had begun to think that very little would come of the affair⁠—especially after Hugh Stanbury had appeared upon the scene⁠—and had felt that there was nothing to be lost by presenting himself before the eyes of the Colonel. It was necessary that he should make a report to his employer, and the report might be made a little more full after a few words with the man whom he had been “looking into.” “Well, Mr. Trewillian,” he said, seating himself on a chair close against the wall, and holding his hat between the knees⁠—“I’ve seen the parties, and know pretty much all about it.”

“All I want to know, Mr. Bozzle, is, whether Colonel Osborne has been at the Clock House?”

“He has been there, Mr. Trewillian. There is no earthly doubt about that. From hour to hour I can tell you pretty nearly where he’s been since he left London.” Then Bozzle took out his memorandum-book.

“I don’t care about all that,” said Trevelyan.

“I dare say not, sir; but it may be wanted all the same. Any gentleman acting in our way can’t be too particular⁠—can’t have too many facts. The smallest little⁠—tiddly things,”⁠—and Bozzle as he said this seemed to enjoy immensely the flavour of his own epithet⁠—“the smallest little ‘tiddly’ things do so often turn up trumps when you get your evidence into court.”

“I’m not going to get any evidence into court.”

“Maybe not, sir. A gentleman and lady is always best out of court as long as things can hang on anyway;⁠—but sometimes things won’t hang on no way.”

Trevelyan, who was conscious that the employment of Bozzle was discreditable, and whose affairs in Devonshire were now in the hands of, at any rate, a more honourable ally, was at present mainly anxious to get rid of the ex-policeman. “I have no doubt you’ve been very careful, Mr. Bozzle,” said he.

“There isn’t no one in the business could be more so, Mr. Trewillian.”

“And you have found out what it was necessary that I should know. Colonel Osborne did go to the Clock House?”

“Was let in at the front door on Friday the 5th, by Sarah French, the housemaid, at 10:37 a.m., and was let out again by the same young woman at 11:41 a.m. Perhaps you’d like to have a copy of the entry, Mr. Trewillian?”

“No, no, no.”

“It doesn’t matter. Of course it’ll be with me when it’s wanted. Who was with him, exactly, at that time, I can’t say. There is things, Mr. Trewillian, one can’t see. But I don’t think as he saw neither Mrs. Stanbury, nor Miss Stanbury⁠—not to speak to. I did just have one word, promiscuous, with Sarah French, after he was gone. Whether the other young lady was with ’em or not, and if so for how long, I⁠—can’t⁠—say. There is things, Mr. Trewillian, which one can’t see.”

How Trevelyan hated the man as he went on with his odious details⁠—details not one of which possessed the slightest importance. “It’s all right, I dare say, Mr. Bozzle. And now about the account.”

“Quite so, Mr. Trewillian. But there was one question;⁠—just one question.”

“What question?” said Trevelyan, almost angrily.

“And there’s another thing I must tell you, too, Mr. Trewillian. I come back to town in the same carriage with the Colonel. I thought it better.”

“You did not tell him who you were?”

“No, Mr. Trewillian; I didn’t tell him that. I don’t think he’d say if you was to ask him that I told him much of anything. No, Mr. Trewillian, I didn’t tell him nothing. I don’t often tell folks much till the time comes. But I thought it better, and I did have a word or two with the gent⁠—just a word or two. He’s not so very downy, isn’t the Colonel;⁠—for one that’s been at it so long, Mr. Trewillian.”

“I dare say not. But if you could just let me have the account, Mr. Bozzle⁠—”

“The account? Oh, yes;⁠—that is necessary; ain’t it? These sort of inquiries do come a little expensive, Mr. Trewillian; because time goes for so much; and when one has to be down on a thing, sharp, you know, and sure, so that counsel on the other side can’t part you from it, though he shakes you like a dog does a rat⁠—and one has to get oneself up ready for all that, you know, Mr. Trewillian⁠—as I was saying, one can’t count one’s shillings when one has such a job as this in hand. Clench your nail;⁠—that’s what I say; be it even so. Clench your nail;⁠—that’s what you’ve got to do.”

“I dare say we shan’t quarrel about the money, Mr. Bozzle.”

“Oh dear no. I find I never has any words about the money. But there’s that one question. There’s a young Mr. Stanbury has gone down, as knows all about it. What’s he up to?”

“He’s my particular friend,” said Trevelyan.

“Oh‑h. He do know all about it, then?”

“We needn’t talk about that, if you please, Mr. Bozzle.”

“Because there was words between him and the Colonel upon the platform;⁠—and very angry words. The young man went at the Colonel quite open-mouthed⁠—savage-like. It’s not the way such things should be done, Mr. Trewillian; and though of course it’s not for me to speak;⁠—she’s your lady⁠—still, when you has got a thing of this kind in hand, one head is better than a dozen. As for myself, Mr. Trewillian, I never wouldn’t look at a case⁠—not if I knew it⁠—unless I was to have it all to myself. But of course there was no bargain, and so I says nothing.”

After considerable delay the bill was made out on the spot, Mr. Bozzle copying down the figures painfully from his memorandum-book, with his head much inclined on one side. Trevelyan asked him, almost in despair, to name the one sum; but this Bozzle declined to do, saying that right was right.