"But Soames wanted to find out the truth."
"Yes;—that was just it. Soames couldn't bear to think that he should be left in the dark, and then, when the poor man said that Soames had paid the cheque to him in the way of business,—it was not odd that Soames' back should have been up, was it? But, Mr. Robarts, I should have thought a deal about it before I should have brought such a man as Mr. Crawley before a bench of magistrates on that charge."
"But between you and me, Mr. Walker, did he steal the money?"
"Well, Mr. Robarts, you know how I'm placed."
"Mr. Crawley is my friend, and of course I want to assist him. I was under a great obligation to Mr. Crawley once, and I wish to befriend him, whether he took the money or not. But I could act so much better if I felt sure one way or the other."
"If you ask me, I think he did take it."
"What!—stole it?"
"I think he knew it was not his own when he took it. You see I don't think he meant to use it when he took it. He perhaps had some queer idea that Soames had been hard on him, or his lordship, and that the money was fairly his due. Then he kept the cheque by him till he was absolutely badgered out of his life by the butcher up the street there. That was about the long and the short of it, Mr. Robarts."
"I suppose so. And now what had he better do?"
"Well; if you ask me, He is in very bad health, isn't he?"
"No; I should say not. He walked to Barchester and back the other day."
"Did he? But he's very queer, isn't he?"
"Very odd-mannered indeed."
"And does and says all manner of odd things?"
"I think you'd find the bishop would say so after that interview."
"Well; if it would do any good, you might have the bishop examined."
"Examined for what, Mr. Walker?"
"If you could show, you know, that Crawley has got a bee in his bonnet; that the mens sana is not there, in short;—I think you might manage to have the trial postponed."
"But then somebody must take charge of his living."
"You parsons could manage that among you;—you and the dean and the archdeacon. The archdeacon has always got half-a-dozen curates about somewhere. And then,—after the assizes, Mr. Crawley
