"Why, my dear sir, I remembered the old coin perfectly, having been so
very particular in my drawing and measurement; and the moment I clapped
eyes on the other one yesterday, I said to my good friend Harbourne,
here: 'Harbourne,' said I, 'somebody's been changing your Wulfric in the
case over yonder for another specimen.' 'Changing it!' said Harbourne:
'not a bit of it; clipping it, you mean.' 'No, no, my good fellow,' said
I: 'do you suppose I don't know the same coin again when I see it, and
at my time of life too? This is another coin, not the same one clipped. It's bigger across than the old one from there to there.' 'No, it
isn't,' says he. 'But it is,' I answer. 'Just you look in my
"Northumbrian and Mercian" and see if it isn't so.' 'You must be
mistaken,' says Harbourne. 'If I am, I'll eat my head,' says I. Well,
we get down the 'Numismatist' from the bookshelf then and there; and
sure enough, it turns out just as I told him. Harbourne turned as white
as a ghost, I can tell you, as soon as he discovered it. 'Why,' says he,
'I've sent a poor young fellow off to Portland Prison, only three or
four months ago, for stealing that very Wulfric.' And then he told me
all the story. 'Very well,' said I, 'then the only thing you've got to
do is just to go and call on him to-morrow, and let him know that you've
had it proved to you, fairly proved to you, that this is not the
original Wulfric.'" "Sir Theophilus," I said, "I'm much obliged to you. What you point out
is by far the most important piece of evidence I've yet had to offer. Mr. Harbourne, have you kept the gold clippings that were found that
morning on the cocoa-nut matting?" "I have, Mr. Tait," the superintendent answered anxiously. "And Sir
Theophilus and I have been trying to fit them upon the coin in the
Museum shelves; and I am bound to admit I quite agree with him that they
must have been cut off a specimen decidedly larger in one diameter and
smaller in another than the existing one--in short, that they do not fit
the clipped Wulfric now in the Museum." VI. It was just a fortnight later that I received quite unexpectedly a
telegram from Rome directed to me at my London lodgings. I tore it open
hastily; it was signed by Emily, and contained only these few words: "We
have found the Museum Wulfric. The superintendent is coming over to
identify and reclaim it. Can you manage to run across immediately with
him?" For a moment I was lost in astonishment, delight, and fear. How and why
had Emily gone over to Rome? Who could she have with her to take care
of her and assist her? How on earth had she tracked the missing coin to
its distant hiding-place? It was all a profound mystery to me; and after
my first outburst of joy and gratitude, I began to be afraid that Emily
might have been misled by her eagerness and anxiety into following up
the traces of the wrong coin. However, I had no choice but to go to Rome and see the matter ended; and
I went alone, wearing out my soul through that long journey with
suspense and fear; for I had not managed to hit upon the superintendent,
who, through his telegram being delivered a little the sooner, had
caught a train six hours earlier than the one I went by. As I arrived at the Central Station at Rome, I was met, to my surprise,
by a perfect crowd of familiar faces. First, Emily herself rushed to me,
kissed me, and assured me a hundred times over that it was all right,
and that the missing coin was undoubtedly recovered. Then, the
superintendent, more shamefaced than ever, and very grave, but with a
certain moisture in his eyes, confirmed her statement by saying that he
had got the real Museum Wulfric undoubtedly in his pocket. Then Sir
Theophilus, who had actually come across with Lady Wraxton on purpose to
take care of Emily, added his assurances and congratulations. Last of
all, Woollacott, the warder, stepped up to me and said simply, "I'm
glad, sir, that it was through me as it all came out so right and even." "Tell me how it all happened," I cried, almost faint with joy, and still
wondering whether my innocence had really been proved beyond all fear of
cavil. Then Woollacott began, and told me briefly the whole story. He had
consulted with the superintendent and Sir Theophilus, without saying a
word to me about it, and had kept a close watch upon all the letters
that came for Mactavish. A rare Anglo-Saxon coin is not a chattel that
one can easily get rid of every day; and Woollacott shrewdly gathered
from what Sir Theophilus had told him that Mactavish (or whoever else
had stolen the coin) would be likely to try to dispose of it as far away
from England as possible, especially after all the comments that had
been made on this particular Wulfric in the English newspapers. So he
took every opportunity of intercepting the postman at the front door,
and looking out for envelopes with foreign postage stamps. At last one
day a letter arrived for Mactavish with an Italian stamp and a
cardinal's red hat stamped like a crest on the flap of the envelope. Woollacott was certain that things of that sort didn't come to Mactavish
every day about his ordinary business. Braving the penalties for
appropriating a letter, he took the liberty to open this suspicious
communication, and found it was a note from Cardinal Trevelyan, the
Pope's Chamberlain, and a well-known collector of antiquities referring
to early Church history in England, and that it was in reply to an offer
of Mactavish's to send the Cardinal for inspection a rare gold coin not
otherwise specified. The Cardinal expressed his readiness to see the
coin, and to pay a hundred and fifty pounds for it, if it proved to be
rare and genuine as described. Woollacott felt certain that this
communication must refer to the gold Wulfric. He therefore handed the
letter to Mrs. Mactavish when the postman next came his rounds, and
waited to see whether Mactavish any day afterwards went to the post to
register a small box or packet. Meanwhile he communicated with Emily and
the superintendent, being unwilling to buoy me up with a doubtful hope
until he was quite sure that their plan had succeeded. The
superintendent wrote immediately to the Cardinal, mentioning his
suspicions, and received a reply to the effect that he expected a coin
of Wulfric to be sent him shortly. Sir Theophilus, who had been greatly
interested in the question of the coin, kindly offered to take Emily
over to Rome, in order to get the criminating piece, as soon as it
arrived, from Cardinal Trevelyan. That was, in turn, the story that they
all told me, piece by piece, in the Central Station at Rome that
eventful morning. "And Mactavish?" I asked of the superintendent eagerly. "Is in custody in London already," he answered somewhat sternly. "I had
a warrant out against him before I left town on this journey." At the trial the whole case was very clearly proved against him, and my
innocence was fully established before the face of all my
fellow-countrymen.