Roland bore him down.
"Who cares for the seal? I don't. If Galloway had stuck himself upon
the letter, instead of his seal, and never got off till it reached the
cousin Galloway's hand, I wouldn't care. It tells nothing. Do you
_want_ to find your brother guilty?" he continued, in a tone of scorn.
"You did not half stand up for him, Hamish Channing, as I'd expect a
brother to stand up for me. Now then, you people! Are you thinking we
are live kangaroos escaped from a menagerie? Be off about your own
business! Don't come after us."
The last was addressed to a crowd, who had followed upon their heels
from the court, staring, with that innate delicacy for which the
English are remarkable. They had seen Arthur Channing a thousand times
before, every one of them, but, as he had been arrested, they must look
at him again. Yorke's scornful reproach and fierce face somewhat
scattered them.
"If it had been Galloway's doings, I'd never have put my foot inside
his confounded old office again!" went on Roland. "No! and my lady
might have tried her best to force me. Lugging a fellow up for a
pitiful, paltry sum of twenty pounds!--who is as much a gentleman as
himself!--who, as his own senses might tell him, wouldn't touch it with
the end of his finger! But it was that Butterby's handiwork, not
Galloway's."
"Galloway must have given Butterby his instructions," observed Hamish.
"He didn't, then," snapped Roland.
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