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In the first place, it is clearly my business to take up the case at the point where Sergeant Bulmer has left it. On his authority, I am justified in assuming that I have no need to trouble myself about the maid-of-all-work and the shopman. Their characters are now to be considered as cleared up. What remains to be privately investigated is the question of the guilt or innocence of Mr. Jay.
Nay, my friend, for the most part we are blessed or damned as Fate elects, and hence her favorites may not in reason contemn her victims. For myself, I observe the king upon his throne and the thief upon his coffin, in passage for the gallows; and I pilfer my phrase and I apply it to either spectacle: There, but for the will of God, sits John Bulmer.
Nobody seems to know much about him, or where he comes from. And it seems a sort of coincidence that yesterday he actually crossed swords with poor Bulmer, and could have stuck him, too, since he showed himself the better swordsman. Of course, that may be an accident and couldn't possibly be called a case against anybody; but then we haven't the means to make a real case against anybody.
Bulmer, an old friend of my uncle's " "Oh, he? . . . I am sorry for Mr. Bulmer, but it can't be done," interrupted Hozier. "Philip, you do not understand. I I cared for nobody then . . . and my uncle said he was in danger of bankruptcy . . . and Mr. Bulmer undertook to help him if I would consent. . . ." "Yes," agreed Philip, with an air of pleasant detachment, "I see. You are in a first-rate fix.
You are not to imagine that John Bulmer debated an exposure of de Soyecourt. "Live and let live" was the Englishman's axiom; the exuberant Cazaio was dead, his men were either slain or dispersed, and the whole tangle of errors with judicious reservations had now been unravelled to Gaston's satisfaction. And Claire de Puysange was now Duchess of Ormskirk.
In the chancel were several monuments to the memory of defunct pastors. The oldest was very old, and the inscription in Latin on brass; the newest was to Bessie's grandfather the "Reverend Thomas Bulmer, for forty-six years vicar of this parish." From the dates he had married late, for he had died in a good old age in the same year as his daughter Elizabeth, and only two months before her.
In the depths of his heart he feared Bulmer. The old man's repute for honesty was widespread. He would fling his dearest friend into prison for such a swindle as that arranged between Coke and the shipowner. But it was a positive relief to divulge everything that concerned Iris.
"You flatter me," the Marquis returned. "My skill in that science enabled me to deduce only the veriest truisms such as that the man who for fifteen years had beaten France, had hoodwinked France, would in France be not oversafe could we conceive him fool enough to hazard a trip into this country." "Especially alone?" said John Bulmer. "Especially," the Marquis assented, "if he came alone.
"My dear man," de Soyecourt was saying as John Bulmer came into the room "when you brought this extraordinary epistle to Bellegarde, you must have been perfectly aware that thereby you were forfeiting your life. Accordingly, I am compelled to deny your absurd claims to the immunity of a herald, just as I would decline to receive a herald from the cockroaches." "That is cowardly," the man said.
Jay does call himself a journalist, in virtue of his penny-a-line contributions to the newspapers, he is a young man of low tastes, vulgar manners, and bad habits. Nothing has yet been discovered in relation to him which redounds to his credit in the smallest degree. I have now reported, down to the very last details, all the particulars communicated to me by Sergeant Bulmer.
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