You need not betray that I am in
custody."
They saw that they might trust him. One of the policemen went to the
opposite side of the way, as if pacing his beat; the other continued by
the side of Arthur; not closely enough to give rise to suspicion in
those they met. A few paces from the door Tom Channing came pelting up,
and put his arm within Arthur's.
"Guilty, or not guilty, it shall never be said that a Channing was
deserted by his brothers!" quoth he, "I wish Hamish could have been
here."
"Tom, you are thinking me guilty?" Arthur said, in a quiet, tone, which
did not reach the ears of his official escort.
"Well--I am in a fix," avowed Tom. "If you are guilty, I shall never
believe in anything again. I have always thought that building a
cathedral: well and good; but if it turns out to be a myth, I shan't be
surprised, after this. _Are_ you guilty?"
"No, lad."
The denial was simple, and calmly expressed; but there was sufficient
in its tone to make Tom Channing's heart give a great leap within him.
"Thank God! What a fool I was! But, I say, Arthur, why did you not deny
it, out-and-out? Your manner frightened us. I suppose the police scared
you?"
Tom, all right now, walked along, his head up, escorting Arthur with as
little shame to public examination, as he would have done to a public
crowning. It was not the humiliation of undeserved suspicion that could
daunt the Channings: the consciousness of guilt could alone effect
that.
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