Butterby wouldn't be such a fool!"
But the police were in the hall, and Judith had come to the dining-room
door. "Master Arthur, you are wanted, please."
"What is all this?" exclaimed Mr. Channing in astonishment, gazing from
Tom to Arthur, from Arthur to the vision of the blue official dress, a
glimpse of which he could catch beyond Judith. Tom took up the answer.
"It's nothing, papa. It's a trick they are playing for fun, I'll lay.
They _can't_ really suspect Arthur of stealing the bank-note, you know.
They'll never dare to take him up, as they take a felon."
Charley stole round to Arthur with a wailing cry, and threw his arms
round him--as if their weak protection could retain him in its shelter.
Arthur gently unwound them, and bent down till his lips touched the
yearning face held up to him in its anguish.
"Charley, boy, I am innocent," he breathed in the boy's ear. "You won't
doubt that, I know. Don't keep me. They have come for me, and I must go
with them."
CHAPTER XXIII.
AN ESCORT TO THE GUILDHALL.
The group would have formed a study for a Wilkie. The disturbed
dinner-table; the consternation of those assembled at it; Mr. Channing
(whose sofa, wheeled to the table, took up the end opposite his wife)
gazing around with a puzzled, stern expression; Mrs. Channing glancing
behind her with a sense of undefined dread; the pale, _conscious_
countenances of Arthur and Constance; Tom standing up in haughty
impetuosity, defiant of every one; the lively terror of Charley's face,
as he clung to Arthur; and the wide-opened eyes of Annabel expressive
of nothing but surprise--for it took a great deal to alarm that
careless young lady; while at the door, holding it open for Arthur,
stood Judith in her mob-cap, full of curiosity; and in the background
the two policemen.
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