"I have to ask your pardon, sir, for this untimely
visit," he said. "I make no defence, I have no excuse,
I have disgraced myself, I am properly punished; I
appear before you to appeal to you in mercy for the
most trifling aid, or, God help me! I fear I may go
mad."
"What on earth is wrong?" I asked.
"I have been robbed," he said. "I have no defence to
offer; it was of my own fault, I am properly punished."
"But, gracious goodness me!" I cried, "who is there to
rob you in a place like this?"
"I can form no opinion," he replied. "I have no idea.
I was lying in a ditch inanimate. This is a degrading
confession, sir; I can only say in self-defence that
perhaps (in your good-nature) you have made yourself
partly responsible for my shame. I am not used to
these rich wines."
"In what form was your money? Perhaps it may be
traced," I suggested.
"It was in English sovereigns. I changed it in New
York; I got very good exchange," he said, and then,
with a momentary outbreak, "God in heaven, how I toiled
for it!" he cried.
Pages:
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504