"`Very true, sir,' I said, `so I did everybody in turn; but, depend upon
it, 'tain't Pellet.' Those were the very words that passed, Mr Pellet;
and now you've got to prove yourself innocent, that is, if you can, sir;
for, though I stuck up for you to the vicar, I must say that it looks
very black against you. We wanted to find the key to the mystery, and
we found it, sir, in your box, so you've got to prove yourself an honest
man, and show how the key got there."
"But I can't, Mr Timson," said Jared. "I've not the slightest notion."
"Then it looks all the blacker against you, Mr Pellet, that's all I can
say--blacker than ever--Kyshow at the very least, without so much as a
dust of green to relieve it."
Jared groaned.
"Why, sir, not saying it was you," continued Mr Timson, excitedly, "a
man must be a terrible scoundrel to go and rob the poor, even if he was
poor himself, when he was situated as you are, and knew that the vicar,
or somebody else not far from you at the present time, might--I do not
say would, sir--might have helped him out of a difficulty if he had been
in a corner."
Standing hat in hand, Jared looked at the churchwarden, while for a
moment the little glass-enclosed office seemed to swim round him; but
only for a moment; then came a choking sensation in his throat, and a
blank dreary hopelessness settled down upon him. He tried to speak, but
the words would not come; he endeavoured to make up some defence, to
think out some plan of action, but, blank, blank, blank--all seemed
blank and hopeless, and it almost appeared to him now that he really was
the thief they took him for.
"Prove it, sir--prove it," resumed Timson, placing his thumb upon the
edge of his desk, and pressing it down as if he had Jared beneath it,
and was keeping him there until he proved his innocence. "I'm sorry,
sir, very sorry, sir, and so is the vicar. Don't you go and think, Mr
Pellet," he continued, in quite an indignant tone,--"don't you go and
think that we wanted the poor-boxes robbed; we didn't, you know; and we
didn't want to find out that it was you."
Jared waved his hand deprecatingly.
"Well, well, well, sir," exclaimed Timson. "Prove it, sir, prove it--as
I said before, prove it," and he pressed the thumb down harder and
harder.
"But, man, how can I?" exclaimed Jared, desperately.
"Shoo--shoo--shoo--shoo--shoo;--shoo--shoo!" ejaculated Timson. "Don't
raise your voice like that, sir, or I shall be indignant too. It won't
do, Mr Jared Pellet. You're in the wrong, sir--you're in the wrong."
"I know, I know, Mr Timson," said Jared, imploringly; "but what can I
do?"
"Prove it, sir, prove it," said Timson again. "I want to see you proved
innocent; and if we are wrong, there's my hand--leastwise, there it is
when you've proved it;" and for fear that Jared should seize upon it, he
tucked it under the tail of his coat, turned his back to the fire, and
then stood looking fiercely at the dejected man before him.
But Jared had no thought of seizing the churchwarden's hand, for as he
stood there, bent and wrinkled of brow, he was going over, for the
fiftieth time, the contents of the vicar's letter, and then thinking of
those at home, and the poverty that this loss of his situation must
bring upon them. Then he thought of the disgrace, from which he felt
that he must free his character; and in imagination he saw himself once
more proud and erect in the presence of his accusers, but refusing with
scorn the prayer of the vicar that he should continue to be organist.
No! that would never be; he would fulfil the duties to the last, and
then, once more clear in character, he would seek for some fresh means
of subsistence for the family in Duplex Street.
No organ here--no glass reflector in Timson's counting-house; but Jared
was still dreaming of being cleared from the accusation, when he awoke
with a start, as the churchwarden exclaimed again--
"Prove it, sir, prove it!"
"Ay! prove it; but how?" and desolate, despairing, and half
broken-hearted, Jared Pellet left the office, seeing nothing external,
but mechanically making his way into the streets, where he wandered
about, hour after hour, aimless and dejected; his mind a very chaos of
conflicting thoughts, save in one instance, where brightly and strong
shone a ray from his clouded imagination, and that ray was before him
always.
Other plans were made, broken, and confused, but this still stood out
clearly before him--come what might, they must not know of this at
home--for he felt that the secret lay almost in his own breast, since a
few words to Purkis and Ruggles would ensure their silence.
Volume 2, Chapter XVI.