difficulties had
tempted the unfortunate manager to appropriate some of the firm's money.

"Mr. Robert Ireland, however, could not say very much. His father did
not confide in him to the extent of telling him all his private affairs,
but money never seemed scarce at home certainly, and Mr. Ireland had, to
his son's knowledge, not a single extravagant habit. He himself had been
dining out with a friend on that memorable evening, and had gone on with
him to the Oxford Music Hall. He met his father on the doorstep of the
bank at about 11.30 p.m. and they went in together. There certainly was
nothing remarkable about Mr. Ireland then, his son averred; he appeared
in no way excited, and bade his son good night quite cheerfully.

"There was the extraordinary, the remarkable hitch," continued the man
in the corner, waxing more and more excited every moment. "The
public--who is at times very dense--saw it clearly nevertheless: of
course, every one at once jumped to the natural conclusion that Mrs.
Ireland was telling a lie--a noble lie, a self-sacrificing lie, a lie
endowed with all the virtues if you like, but still a lie.

"She was trying to save her husband, and was going the wrong way to
work. James Fairbairn, after all, could not have dreamt quite all that
he declared he had seen and heard. No one suspected James Fairbairn;
there was no occasion to do that; to begin with he was a great heavy
Scotchman with obviously no powers of invention, such as Mrs. Ireland's
strange assertion credited him with; moreover, the theft of the
bank-notes could not have been of the slightest use to him.

"But, remember, there was the hitch; without it the public mind would
already have condemned the sick man upstairs, without hope of
rehabilitation. This fact struck every one.

"Granting that Mr. Ireland had gone into his office at ten minutes to
ten o'clock at night for the purpose of extracting L5000 worth of notes
and gold from the bank safe, whilst giving the theft the appearance of a
night burglary; granting that he was disturbed in his nefarious project
by his wife, who, failing to persuade him to make restitution, took his
side boldly, and very clumsily attempted to rescue him out of his
difficult position--why should he, at nine o'clock the following
morning, fall in a dead faint and get cerebral congestion at sight of a
defalcation he knew had occurred? One might simulate a fainting fit, but
no one can assume a high temperature