"Doubt you _still_! Why, what would
he have?"
"I don't know;" sighed Arthur. "I have assured him I did not send it;
but he fancies I may have done it to clear myself. He talks of calling
in Butterby again."
"My opinion then, is, that he wants to be transported, if he is to turn
up such a heathen as that!" stamped Roland. "What would he have, I ask?
Another twenty, given him for interest? Arthur, dear old fellow, let's
go off together to Port Natal, and leave him and his office to it! I'll
find the means, if I rob his cash-box to get them!"
But Arthur was already beyond hearing, having waved his adieu to Roland
Yorke and his impetuous but warm-hearted championship. Anxious to get
on with the task he had undertaken, he hastened home. Constance was in
the hall when he entered, having just returned from Lady Augusta
Yorke's.
His confidant throughout, his gentle soother and supporter, his ever
ready adviser, Arthur drew her into one of the rooms, and acquainted
her with what had occurred. A look of terror rose to her face, as she
listened.
"Hamish has done it!" she uttered, in a whisper. "This puts all doubt
at an end. There are times--they have been times"--she burst into tears
as she spoke--"when I have fondly tried to cheat myself that we were
suspecting him wrongfully. Arthur! others suspect him."
Arthur's face reflected the look that was upon hers. "I trust not!"
"But they do.
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