Might it not be possible that she should still run away? She did not know much of the law, but she thought that they could not punish her for breaking an appointment even with a man so high in authority as Major Mackintosh. She could leave a note saying that pressing business called her out. But whither should she go? She thought of taking a cab to the House of Commons, finding her cousin, and telling him everything. It would be so much better that he should see the major. But then again, it might be that she should be mistaken as to the amount of the major’s information. After a while she almost determined to fly off at once to Scotland, leaving word that she was obliged to go instantly to her child. But there was no direct train to Scotland before eight or nine in the evening, and during the intervening hours the police would have ample time to find her. What, indeed, could she do with herself during these intervening hours? Ah, if she had but a rock now, so that she need not be dependent altogether on the exercise of her own intellect!
Gradually the minutes passed by, and she became aware that she must face the major. Well! What had she done? She had stolen nothing. She had taken no person’s property. She had, indeed, been wickedly robbed, and the police had done nothing to get back for her her property, as they were bound to have done. She would take care to tell the major what she thought about the negligence of the police. The major should not have the talk all to himself.
If it had not been for one word with which Lord George had stunned her ears, she could still have borne it well. She had told a lie;—perhaps two or three lies. She knew that she had lied. But then people lie every day. She would not have minded it much if she were simply to be called a liar. But he had told her that she would be accused of—perjury. There was something frightful to her in the name. And there were, she knew not what, dreadful penalties attached to it. Lord George had told her that she might be put in prison—whether he had said for years or for months she had forgotten. And she thought she had heard of people’s property being confiscated to the Crown when they had been made out to be guilty of certain great offences. Oh, how she wished that she had a rock!
When three o’clock came she had not started for Scotland or elsewhere, and at last she received the major. Could she have thoroughly trusted the servant, she would have denied herself at the last moment, but she feared that she might be betrayed, and she thought that her position would be rendered even worse than it was at present by a futile attempt. She was sitting alone, pale, haggard, trembling, when Major Mackintosh was shown into her room. It may be as well explained at once that, at this moment, the major knew, or thought that he knew, every circumstance of the two robberies, and that his surmises were in every respect right. Miss Crabstick and Mr. Cann were in comfortable quarters, and were prepared to tell all that they could tell. Mr. Smiler was in durance, and Mr. Benjamin was at Vienna, in the hands of the Austrian police, who were prepared to give him up to those who desired his society in England, on the completion of certain legal formalities. That Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Smiler would be prosecuted, the latter for the robbery and the former for conspiracy to rob, and for receiving stolen goods, was a matter of course. But what was to be done with Lady Eustace? That, at the present moment, was the prevailing trouble with the police. During the last three weeks every precaution had been taken to keep the matter secret, and it is hardly too much to say that Lizzie’s interests were handled not only with consideration but with tenderness.
“Lady Eustace,” said the major, “I am very sorry to trouble you. No doubt the man who called on you this morning explained to you who I am.”
“Oh yes, I know who you are—quite well.” Lizzie made a great effort to speak without betraying her consternation; but she was nearly prostrated. The major, however, hardly observed her, and was by no means at ease himself in his effort to save her from unnecessary annoyance. He was a tall, thin, gaunt man of about forty, with large, good-natured eyes;—but it was not till the interview was half over that Lizzie took courage to look even into his face.
“Just so; I am come, you know, about the robbery which took place here—and the other robbery at Carlisle.”
“I have been so troubled about these horrid robberies! Sometimes I think they’ll be the death of me.”
“I think, Lady Eustace, we have found out the whole truth.”
“Oh, I daresay. I wonder why—you have been so long—finding it out.”
“We have had very clever people to deal with, Lady Eustace;—and I fear that, even now, we shall never get back the property.”
“I do not care about the property, sir;—although it was all my own. Nobody has lost anything but myself; and I really don’t see why the thing should not die out, as I don’t care about it. Whoever it is, they may have it now.”
“We were bound to get to the bottom of it all, if we could; and I think that we have—at last. Perhaps, as you say, we ought to have done it sooner.”
“Oh—I don’t care.”
“We have two persons in custody, Lady Eustace, whom we shall use as witnesses, and I am afraid we shall have to call upon you
