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abundantly testify。
“Humph！” said Monks significantly； and with a look of eager
inquiry； “there may be money’s worth to get； eh？”
“Perhaps there may；” was the composed reply。
“Something that was taken from her；” said Monks。 “Something
that she wore。 Something that—”
“You had better bid；” interrupted Mrs。 Bumble。 “I have heard
enough； already； to assure me that you are the man I ought to talk
to。”
Mr。 Bumble； who had not yet been admitted by his better half
into any greater share of the secret than he had originally
possessed； listened to this dialogue with outstretched neck and
distended eyes； which he directed towards his wife and Monks； by
turns； in undisguised astonishment—increased； if possible； when
the latter sternly demanded what sum was required for the
disclosure。
“What’s it worth to you？” asked the woman； as collectedly as
before。
“It may be nothing； it may be twenty pounds；” replied Monks。
“Speak out； and let me know which。”
“Add five pounds to the sum you have named； give me five…andtwenty pounds in gold；” said the woman； “and I’ll tell you all I
know。 Not before。”
“Five…and…twenty pounds！” exclaimed Monks； drawing back。
“I spoke as plainly as I could；” replied Mrs。 Bumble。 “It’s not a
large sum； either。”
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“Not a large sum for a paltry secret； that may be nothing when
it’s told！” cried Monks impatiently； “and which has been lying
dead for twelve years past or more！”
“Such matters keep well； and； like good wine； often double their
value in course of time；” answered the matron； still preserving the
resolute indifference she had assumed。 “As to lying dead； there
are those who will lie dead for twelve thousand years to come； or
twelve million； for anything you or I know； who will tell strange
tales at last！”
“What if I pay it for nothing？” asked Monks hesitatingly。
“You can easily take it away again；” replied the matron。 “I am
but a woman； alone here； and unprotected。”
“Not alone； my dear； nor unprotected neither；” submitted Mr。
Bumble； in a voice tremulous with fear； “I am here； my dear。 And
besides；” said Mr。 Bumble； his teeth chattering as he spoke； “Mr。
Monks is too much of a gentleman to attempt any violence on
porochial persons。 Mr。 Monks is aware that I am not a young man；
my dear； and also that I am a little run to seed； as I may say； but he
has heerd—I say I have no doubt Mr。 Monks has heerd； my dear—
that I am a very determined officer； with very uncommon
strength； if I’m once roused。 I only want a little rousing； that’s all。”
As Mr。 Bumble spoke； he made a melancholy feint of grasping
his lantern with fierce determination； and plainly showed； by the
alarmed expression of every feature； that he did want a little
rousing； and not a little； prior to making any very warlike
demonstration—unless； indeed； against paupers； or other person
or persons trained down for the purpose。
“You are a fool；” said Mrs。 Bumble； in reply； “and had better
hold your tongue。”
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“He had better have cut it out； before he came； if he can’t speak
in a lower tone；” said Monks grimly。 “So！ He’s your husband； eh？”
“He my husband！” tittered the matron； parrying the question。
“I thought as much； when you came in；” rejoined Monks；
marking the angry glance which the lady darted at her spouse as
she spoke。 “So much the better； I have less hesitation in dealing
with two people； when I find that there’s only one will between
them。 I’m in earnest。 See here！” He thrust his hand into a side…
pocket； and； producing a canvas bag； told out twenty…five
sovereigns on the table； and pushed them over to the woman。
“Now；” he said； “gather them up； and when this cursed peal of
thunder； which I feel is coming up to break over the house…top； is
gone； let’s hear your story。”
The thunder； which seemed in fact much nearer and to shiver
and break almost over their heads； having subsided； Monks；
raising his face from the table； bent forward to listen to what the
woman should say。 The faces of the three nearly touched； as the
two men leaned over the small table in their eagerness to hear；
and the woman also leaned forward to render her whisper audible。
The sickly rays of the suspended lantern falling directly upon
them； aggravated the paleness and anxiety of their countenances；
which； encircled by the deepest gloom and darkness； looked
ghastly in the extreme。
“When this woman； that we called old Sally； died；” the matron
began； “she and I were alone。”
“Was there no one by？” asked Monks； in the same hollow
whisper； “no sick wretch or idiot in some other bed？ No one who
could hear； and might； by possibility； understand？”
“Not a soul；” replied the woman； “we were alone。 I stood alone
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beside the body when death came over it。”
“Good；” said Monks； regarding her attentively。 “Go on。”
“She spoke of a young creature；” resumed the matron； “who
had brought a child into the world some years before； not merely
in the same room； but in the same bed； in which she then lay
dying。”
‘‘Ay？” said Monks； with quivering lip； and glancing over his
shoulder。 “Blood！ How things come about！”
“The child was the one you named to him last night；” said the
matron； nodding carelessly towards her husband； “the mother this
nurse had robbed。”
“In life？” asked Monks。
“In death；” replied the woman； with something like a shudder。
“She stole from the corpse； when it had hardly turned to one； that
which the dead mother had prayed her； with her last breath； to
keep for the infant’s sake。”
“She sold it？” cried Monks； with desperate eagerness； “did she
sell it？ Where！ When？ To whom？ How long before？”
“As she told me； with great difficulty； that she had done this；”
said the matron； “she fell back and died。”
“Without saying more？” cried Monks； in a voice which； from its
very suppression； seemed only the more furious。 “It’s a lie！ I’ll not
be played with。 She said more。 I’ll tear the life out of you both； but
I’ll know what it was。”
“She didn’t utter another word；” said the woman； to all
appearance unmoved （as Mr。 Bumble was very far from being） by
the strange man’s violence； “but she clutched my gown； violently；
with one hand； which was partly closed； and when I saw that she
was dead； and so removed the hand by force； I found it clasped a
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scrap of dirty paper。”
“Which contained—” interposed Monks； stretching forward。
“Nothing；” replied the woman； “it was a pawnbroker’s
duplicate。”
“For what？” demanded Monks。
“In good time I’ll tell you；” said the woman。 “I judge that she
had kept the trinket； for some time； in the hope of turning it to
better account； and then had pawned it； and had saved or scraped
toget