"Do you mean to say that a man can do such a thing as this and that no
one can touch him for it?" This was an exclamation made by Mr. Tyrrwhit
to his lawyer, in a tone of aggrieved disgust.
"He hasn't done anything," said the lawyer. "He only thought of doing
something, and has since repented. You cannot arrest a man because he
had contemplated the picking of your pocket, especially when he has
shown that he is resolved not to pick it."
"As far as I can learn, nothing has been heard about him as yet," said
the son to the father.
"Those limbs weren't his that were picked out of the Thames near
Blackfriars Bridge?"
"They belonged to a poor cripple who was murdered two months since."
"And that body that was found down among the Yorkshire Hills?"
"He was a peddler. There is nothing to induce a belief that Mountjoy has
killed himself or been killed. In the former case his dead body would be
found or his live body would be missing. For the second there is no
imaginable cause for suspicion."
"Then where the devil is he?" said the anxious father.
"Ah, that's the difficulty. But I can imagine no position in which a man
might be more tempted to hide himself. He is disgraced on every side,
and could hardly show his face in London after the money he has lost.
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