Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 307: New Series, Saturday, November 17, 1849Various
History
Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 307: New Series, Saturday, November 17, 1849
Various
Periodicals
I nodded comprehension, and on we journeyed. We were met at the door
by Owen Lloyd himself--a man in whose countenance guilelessness, even
to simplicity, seemed stamped by nature's own true hand. So much,
thought I, for the reliance to be placed on physiognomy! 'I have
brought you a customer,' said Mr Jones; 'but he is as deaf as a stone.'
I was courteously invited in by signs; and with much hallooing and
shouting, it was finally settled that, after dinner, I should look
over Mr Lloyd's stock of wood. Dinner had just been placed on the
table by Mrs Lloyd and her daughter. A still very comely, interesting
woman was Mrs Lloyd, though time and sorrow had long since set their
unmistakeable seals upon her. Her daughter was, I thought, one of the
most charming, graceful young women I had ever seen, spite of the tinge
of sadness which dwelt upon her sweet face, deepening its interest
if it somewhat diminished its beauty. My heart ached to think of the
misery the announcement of my errand must presently bring on such
gentle beings--innocent, I felt confident, even of the knowledge of the
crime that had been committed. I dreaded to begin--not, Heaven knows,
from any fear of the men, who, compared with me, were poor, feeble
creatures, and I could easily have mastered half-a-dozen such; but the
females--that young girl especially--how encounter _their_ despair? I
mutely declined dinner, but accepted a glass of ale, and sat down till
I could muster sufficient resolution for the performance of my task;
for I felt this was an opportunity of quietly effecting the capture of
both the suspected criminals which _must_ not be neglected.
Dinner was just over when Mrs Lloyd said, 'Oh, Mr Jones, have you seen
anything of my husband's pocket-book? It was on a shelf in the room
where you slept--not the last time, but when you were here about three
weeks ago. We can find it nowhere; and I thought you might possibly
have taken it by mistake.'
'A black, common-looking thing?' said Jones.
'Yes.'
'I _did_ take it by mistake. I found it in one of my parcels, and put
it in my pocket, intending of course to return it when I came back;
but I remember, when wanting to open a lock of which I had lost the
key, taking it out to see if it contained a pencil-case which I thought
might answer the purpose; and finding none, tossing it away in a pet, I
could not afterwards find it.'
'Then it is lost?'
'Yes; but what of that? There was nothing in it.'
'You are mistaken,' rejoined Owen; 'there was a five-pound country note
in it, and the loss will---- What is the matter, friend?'
I had sprung upon my feet with uncontrollable emotion: Mr Lloyd's
observation recalled me to myself, and I sat down again, muttering
something about a sudden pain in the side.
'Oh, if that's the case,' said Jones, 'I'll make it up willingly. I am
pretty rich, you know, just now.'
'We shall be much obliged to you,' said Mrs Lloyd; 'its loss would be a
sad blow to us.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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