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Updated: June 17, 2025
"I will not swear that I put the note into the letter." The magistrates pricked up their ears. Mr. Butterby pricked up his, and looked at the witness. "What do you say?" "I will not swear that I put the bank-note inside the letter," deliberately repeated Mr. Galloway. "Not swear that you put the bank-note into the letter? What is it that you mean?" "The meaning is plain enough," replied Mr.
Butterby, after the refusal of her warm caudle, proposes she shall bring Madam a tray of victuals, that she may pick something in bed, Moll, stifling a merry thought, asks, in a feeble voice, what there is in the larder. "Why, Madam," says Mrs.
Huntley had resolved, if possible, to dive into the mystery. He had his reasons for it. A very disagreeable, a very improbable suspicion, called forth by the facts, had darted across his mind; therefore he resolved to penetrate to it. And he set to work. He questioned Mr. Galloway, he questioned Butterby, he questioned Jenkins, and he questioned Roland Yorke.
Galloway required to remove his objection to stern measures; and, in procuring the warrant for the capture, Mr. Butterby had acted as for Mr. Galloway. When Arthur was placed in the spot where he had often seen criminals standing, his face again wore the livid hue which had overspread it in his home. In a few moments this had changed to crimson; brow and cheeks were glowing with it.
He wrote a line rapidly in pencil, folded, called in his man-servant, and despatched him with it to the police-station. The station was very near Mr. Galloway's; on the other side of the cathedral, halfway between that edifice and the town-hall. In ten minutes after the servant had left the house, Mr. Butterby was on his road to it. Mr. Butterby puzzled Helstonleigh.
When Galloway, Butterby, and Co. were on at it, discussing proofs against you, Jenkins's humble voice would be heard, 'I am sure, gentlemen, Mr. Arthur never did it! Many a time I could have hugged him! and he shall have some of my good luck when I reach home. You shall have it too, Arthur!
Undisturbed by discordant elements, the fires of matrimonial affection burning as brightly as when lighted upon my marriage morn, I now calmly survey the re-establishment of a happy household, over which reign domestic bliss and Master Moses Alphonso Butterby. Such is an accurate statement of the case, all of which is respectfully submitted. Butterby is indebted to Mr. A Sketch of Rio de Janeiro.
"Lord! here's the sweet thing's nightgown," exclaims Mrs. Butterby, from the next room, whither she had followed Mr. Godwin. "But dear heart o' me, where's the ham gone?" Mr. Godwin, entering from the next room, looked at her as doubting whether he or all the world had taken leave of their wits. "And the pigeon pasty?" added Mrs. Butterby, regarding the table laid out beside her mistress's bed.
Channing, did you ever know anything so shamefully overbearing and unjust as that affair yesterday?" "Unjust, if it be unfounded," replied Mr. Channing. "Unfounded!" uttered Roland. "If that's not unfounded, there never was an unfounded charge brought yet. I'd answer for Arthur with my own life. I should like to sew up that Butterby! I hope, sir, you'll bring an action against him."
Channing, lifting her yearning face. They wished they could see her weep. "You could have suggested nothing that has not been done," returned Mr. Huntley. "Believe me, dear Mrs. Channing! We have had many good counsellors. Butterby has conducted the search." Mr. Channing turned to them. He was standing at the far window. "I should like to see Butterby."
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