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Updated: May 9, 2025
Undercliff. "Well, what I want you to do is Of course Mr. Wardlaw is a good deal about you?" "Yes." "Does he go to church with you ever?" "No." "But he would, if you were to ask him." "I have no doubt he would; but why?" "Manage matters so that he shall go to church with you, and then put the book down for him to see the writing, all in a moment. Watch his face and tell me."
Ventnor, known as the "metropolis of the Undercliff," is beyond Bonchurch, and is also a thriving wateringplace, above which rises the attractive spire of Holy Trinity Church, built by the munificence of three sisters. From Ventnor the most beautiful part of the island coast stretches westward to Niton.
She saw directly what Mrs. Undercliff had done for her, and lifted her sweet eyes, thick with tears, to thank her. Mrs. Undercliff smiled maternally, and next these two ladies did a stroke of business in the twinkling of an eye, and without a word spoken, whereof anon. Helen being once more composed, Mrs. Undercliff took up the prayer-book, and asked her with some curiosity what could be in that.
In vain; if the eyes were hidden, the tender bosom heaved, the graceful body quivered, and the tears fell fast upon the counter. Mrs. Undercliff was womanly enough, though she looked like the late Lord Thurlow in petticoats; and she instantly aided the girl to hide her beating heart from the man, though that man was her son. She distracted his attention.
"Wait a bit," said Nancy "wait a bit." They sat on each side of the notes; Penfold agitated and terrified, Nancy confounded and perplexed. PUNCTUALLY at ten o'clock Helen returned to Frith Street, and found Mr. Undercliff behind a sort of counter, employed in tracing; a workman was seated at some little distance from him; both bent on their work. "Mr. Undercliff?" said Helen.
This letter, which contained a great many more words than the other, was submitted to Undercliff. It puzzled him so that he set to work, and dissected every curve the writer's pen had made; but he could come to no positive conclusion, and he refused to utter his conjectures. "We are in a deep water," said he. Finally, he told his mother he was at a stand-still for the present.
There she learned Mr. Undercliff had moved to Frith Street, Soho, number not known. She told the cabman to drive slowly up and down the street, but could not find the name. At last she observed some lithographs in a window. She let the cabman go all down the street, then stopped him, and paid him off.
"Oh, dear! that is unfortunate," said Helen, with a deep sigh; she often had to sigh now. "Why, you see," said the expert, "I am called on such a multitude of trials. However, I take notes of the principal ones. What year was it in?" "In 1864." Mr. Undercliff went to a set of drawers arranged chronologically, and found his notes directly.
The indictment contained two counts; one for forging the note of hand, the other for uttering it knowing it to be forged. On the first count, the Crown was weak, and had to encounter the evidence of Undercliff, the distinguished expert, who swore that the hand which wrote "Robert Penfold" was not, in his opinion, the hand that had written the body of the instrument.
When Helen saw them laid out by her maid, she trembled at the consequences of not giving a plump negative to so brisk a wooer. The second post brought two letters; one of them from Mrs. Undercliff. The other contained no words, but only a pearl of uncommon size, and pear-shaped.
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