“Ah, why indeed?” answered Toogood. “If he had not been fool enough to do that, we should have been saved all this trouble. All the same, he did not steal your money, Mr. Soames; and Jem Scuttle did steal it. Unfortunately, Jem Scuttle is in New Zealand by this time.”
“Of course, it is possible,” said Mr. Soames, as he bowed Mr. Toogood out. Mr. Soames did not like Mr. Toogood.
That evening a gentleman with a red nose asked at the Barchester station for a second-class ticket for London by the up night-mail train. He was well known at the station, and the stationmaster made some little inquiry. “All the way to London tonight, Mr. Stringer?” he said.
“Yes—all the way,” said the red-nosed man, sulkily.
“I don’t think you’d better go to London tonight, Mr. Stringer,” said a tall man, stepping out of the door of the booking-office. “I think you’d better come back with me to Barchester. I do indeed.” There was some little argument on the occasion; but the stranger, who was a detective policeman, carried his point, and Mr. Dan Stringer did return to Barchester.
LXXIII
There Is Comfort at Plumstead
Henry Grantly had written the following short letter to Mrs. Grantly when he made up his mind to pull down the auctioneer’s bills.
Dear Mother—
I have postponed the sale, not liking to refuse you anything. As far as I can see, I shall still be forced to leave Cosby Lodge, as I certainly shall do all I can to make Grace Crawley my wife. I say this that there may be no misunderstanding with my father. The auctioneer has promised to have the bills removed.
This had been written by the major on the Friday before Mr. Walker had brought up to him the tidings of Mr. Toogood and Mrs. Arabin’s solution of the Crawley difficulty; but it did not reach Plumstead till the following morning. Mrs. Grantly immediately took the good news about the sale to her husband—not of course showing him the letter, being far too wise for that, and giving him credit for being too wise to ask for it. “Henry has arranged with the auctioneer,” she said joyfully; “and the bills have been all pulled down.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve just heard from him. He has told me so. Come, my dear, let me have the pleasure of hearing you say that things shall be pleasant again between you and him. He has yielded.”
“I don’t see much yielding in it.”
“He has done what you wanted. What more can he do?”
“I want him to come over here, and take an interest in things, and not treat me as though I were nobody.” Within an hour of this the major had arrived at Plumstead, laden with the story of Mrs. Arabin and the cheque, and of Mr. Crawley’s innocence—laden not only with such tidings as he had received from Mr. Walker, but also with further details, which he had received from Mr. Toogood. For he had come through Barchester, and had seen Mr. Toogood on his way. This was on the Saturday morning, and he had breakfasted with Mr. Toogood at The Dragon of Wantly. Mr. Toogood had told him of his suspicions—how the red-nosed man had been stopped, and had been summoned as a witness for Mr. Crawley’s trial—and how he was now under the surveillance of the police. Grantly had not cared very much about the red-nosed man, confining his present solicitude to the question whether Grace Crawley’s father would certainly be shown to have been innocent of the theft.
“There’s not a doubt about it, major,” said Mr. Toogood; “not a doubt on earth. But we’d better be a little quiet till your aunt comes home—just a little quiet. She’ll be here in a day or two, and I won’t budge till she comes.” In spite of his desire for quiescence Mr. Toogood consented to a revelation being at once made to the archdeacon and Mrs. Grantly. “And I’ll tell you what, major; as soon as ever Mrs. Arabin is here, and has given us her own word to act on, you and I will go over to Hogglestock and astonish them. I should like to go myself, because, you see, Mrs. Crawley is my cousin, and we have taken a little trouble about this matter.” To this the major assented; but he altogether declined to assist in Mr. Toogood’s speculations respecting the unfortunate Dan Stringer. It was agreed between them that for the present no visit should be made to the palace, as it was thought that Mr. Thumble had better be allowed to do the Hogglestock duties on the next Sunday. As matters went, however, Mr. Thumble did not do so. He had paid his last visit to Hogglestock.
It may be as well to explain here that the unfortunate Mr. Snapper was constrained to go out to Hogglestock on the Sunday which was now approaching—which fell out as follows. It might be all very well for Mr. Toogood to arrange that he would not tell this person or that person of the news which he had brought down from London; but as he had told various people in Silverbridge, as he had told Mr. Soames, and as he had told the police at Barchester, of course the tale found its way to the palace. Mr. Thumble heard it, and having come by this time thoroughly to hate Hogglestock and all that belonged to it, he pleaded
