‘Is there anything I can do for you, Mr Robarts?’ asked Mr Winthrop.  Mr Robarts said that he had wished to see Mr Walker about that poor fellow Crawley.  ’Ah, yes; very said case!  So much sadder being a clergyman, Mr Robarts.  We are really quite sorry for him;—­we are indeed.  We wouldn’t have touched the case ourselves if we could have helped ourselves.  We wouldn’t indeed.  But we are obliged to take all that business here.  At any rate he’ll get nothing but fair usage from us.’

’I am sure of that.  You don’t know whether he has employed any lawyer as yet to defend him?’

’I can’t say.  We don’t know, you know.  I should say he had—­probably some Barchester attorney.  Borleys and Bonstock in Barchester are very good people—­very good people indeed;—­for that sort of business I mean, Mr Robarts.  I don’t suppose they have much county property in their hands.’

Mr Robarts knew that Mr Winthrop was a fool, and that he could get no useful advice from him.  So he suggested that he would take his gig down to the inn, and call back again before long.  ’You’ll find that Mr Walker knows no more than I do about it,’ said Mr Winthrop, ’but of course he’ll be glad to see you if he happens to come in.’  So Mr Robarts went to the inn, put up his horse, and then, as he sauntered back up the street, met Mr Walker coming out of the private door of his house.

‘I’ve been at home all the morning,’ he said; ’but I’ve had a stiff job of work on hand, and told them to say in the office that I was not in.  Seen Winthrop, have you?  I don’t suppose he did know that I was here.  The clerks often know more than the partners.  About Mr Crawley, is it?  Come into my dining-room, Mr Robarts, where we shall be alone.  Yes;—­it is a bad case; a very bad case.  The pity is that anybody should have said anything about it.  Lord bless me, if I’d been Soames I’d have let him have the twenty pounds.  Lord Lufton would never have allowed Soames to lose it.’

‘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’s 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 me and you, 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!—­he 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.’