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"'Kind! Don't talk that school-girl rubbish!" passionately interrupted Roland. "If I were taken up upon a false charge, wouldn't you stand by me?" "That I would; were it false or true." "I'll pay that Butterby out, if it's ten years hence! And you, knowing your own innocence, could stand before them there, meek-faced as a tame cat, letting Butterby and the bench have it their own way!
"A certain person in the town, living not a hundred miles from this very spot, was suspected of having made free with a ring, which disappeared from a dressing-table, where she was paying an evening visit; and I declare if Butterby did not put his nose into it, and worm out all the particulars!" "That she had not taken it?" "That she had.
Hamish, outwardly self-possessed, and giving his orders with quiet authority, was inwardly troubled as he had never been. The boy had been left to his charge, and how should he answer for this to his father and mother? He went in and saw the old woman; as did the renowned Mr. Butterby, who had appeared with the rest. She related to them she had heard the previous night.
Butterby had made close inquiry; and, to do him justice, he did not seek to throw one shade more of guilt upon Arthur than he thought the case deserved. "Mr. Hamish Channing also " Mr. Butterby stopped. There, standing within the door, was Hamish himself.
The announcement had struck upon the ear and memory of Tom. "Policemen!" he exclaimed, standing up in his place, and stretching his neck to obtain a view of them. "Why it never can be that old Butterby Arthur, what ails you?" A sensitive, refined nature, whether implanted in man or woman, is almost sure to betray its emotions on the countenance. Such a nature was Arthur Channing's.
A feeling of conscious guilt, of what an enfeebled mind failed to grasp, succumbed to the shock. From amid the joint chorus of sobs and tears which burst forth with the wail of a Scottish slogan or an Indian death-song, I heard "Oh, my poor darling! Oh, my poor dear angel! Oh, Mr. Butterby, how could you?" "Madam," I inquired, in amazement, "how could I what?"
"You must have seen better designs in Rome," says he. At this I took alarm, not thinking for the moment that he might have picked up some particulars of Judith Godwin's history from Mrs. Butterby, or the curious servants who were ever prying in the room. "'Tis so long ago," says Moll, readily. "I think I have seen something like it in the Holy City," observes the Don, critically. "Probably.
I should have paid Pierce out, but for Gaunt." A silence. It was filled up by the sound of Tom splashing the water on his face, and by that only. Arthur spoke presently, his tone so calm a one as almost to be unnatural. "How did the notion arise?" "Mark Galloway said he heard Butterby talking with his uncle; that Butterby said the theft could only have been committed by Arthur Channing.
Butterby had brought forth nothing, and he was walking back home with Mr. Huntley. Mr. Huntley strove to lead his friend's thoughts into a different channel: it seemed quite a mockery to endeavour to whisper hope for Charley. "You will resume your own place in Guild Street at once?" he observed. "To-morrow, please God." They walked a few steps further in silence; and then Mr.
Huntley's heart that he would fathom it, for private reasons of his own; and, in the impulse of the moment, he bent his steps there and then, towards the police-station, and demanded an interview with Roland Yorke's bete noire, Mr. Butterby. But the cathedral is not quite done with for the afternoon.
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