the magistrates sat on the bench in the town-hall of helstonleigh. but, before the case was called on—for the police had spoken too fast in saying they were waiting for it—arthur became acquainted with one great fact: that it was not mr. galloway who had driven matters to this extremity. neither was he aware that arthur had been taken into custody. mr. butterby had assumed the responsibility, and acted upon it. mr. butterby, since his interview with mr. galloway in the morning, had gathered, as he believed, sufficiently corroborating facts to establish, or nearly so, the guilt of arthur channing. he supposed that this was all mr. galloway required to remove his objection to stern measures; and, in procuring the warrant for the capture, mr. butterby had acted as for mr. galloway.

when arthur was placed in the spot where he had often seen criminals standing, his face again wore the livid hue which had overspread it in his home. in a few moments this had changed to crimson; brow and cheeks were glowing with it. it was a painful situation, and arthur felt it to the very depths of his naturally proud spirit. i don’t think you or i should have liked it.

the circumstances were stated to the magistrates just as they have been stated to you. the placing of the bank-note and letter in the envelope by mr. galloway, his immediately fastening it down by means of the gum, the extraction of the note, between that time and the period when the seal was placed on it later in the day, and the fact that arthur channing alone had access to it. “except mr. hamish channing, for a few minutes,” mr. butterby added, “who kindly remained in the office while his brother proceeded as far as the cathedral and back again; the other clerks, joseph jenkins and roland yorke, being absent that afternoon.”

a deeper dye flushed arthur’s face when hamish’s name and share in the afternoon’s doings were mentioned, and he bent his eyes on the floor at his feet, and kept them there. had hamish not been implicated, he would have stood there with a clear eye and a serene brow. it was that, the all too vivid consciousness of the sin of hamish, which took all spirit out of him, and drove him to stand there as one under the brand of guilt. he scarcely dared look up, lest it should be read in his countenance that he was innocent, and hamish guilty; he scarcely dared to pronounce, in ever so faltering a tone, the avowal “i did it not.” had it been to save his life from the scaffold, he could not have spoken out boldly and freely that day. there was the bitter shock of the crime, felt for hamish’s own sake: hamish whom they had all so loved, so looked up to: and there was the dread of the consequences to mr. channing in the event of discovery. had the penalty been hanging, i believe that arthur would have gone to it, rather than betray hamish. but you must not suppose he did not feel it for himself; there were moments when he feared lest he should not carry it through.

mr. butterby was waiting for a witness—mr. galloway himself: and meanwhile, he entertained the bench with certain scraps, anecdotal and other, premising what would be proved before them. jenkins would show that the prisoner had avowed in his presence, it would take a twenty-pound note to clear him from his debts, or hard upon it—

“no,” interrupted the hitherto silent prisoner, to the surprise of those present, “that is not true. it is correct that i did make use of words to that effect, but i spoke them in jest. i and roland yorke were one day speaking of debts, and i jokingly said a twenty-pound note would pay mine, and leave me something out of it. jenkins was present, and he may have supposed i spoke in earnest. in point of fact i did not owe anything.”

it was an assertion more easily made than proved. arthur channing might have large liabilities upon him, for all that appeared in that court to the contrary. mr. butterby handed the seal to the bench, who examined it curiously.

“i could have understood this case better had any stranger or strangers approached the letter,” observed one of the magistrates, who knew the channings personally, and greatly respected their high character. “you are sure you are not mistaken in supposing no one came in?” he added, looking kindly at arthur.

“certainly no one came in whilst i was alone in the office, sir,” was the unhesitating answer.

the magistrate spoke in an under-tone to those beside him. “that avowal is in his favour. had he taken the note, one might suppose he would be anxious to make it appear that strangers did enter, and so throw suspicion off himself.”

“i have made very close inquiry, and cannot find that the office was entered at all that afternoon,” observed mr. butterby. mr. 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. in passing along the street he had seen an unusual commotion around the town-hall; and, upon inquiring its cause, was told that arthur channing was under examination, on suspicion of having stolen the bank-note, lost by mr. galloway.

to look at hamish you would have believed him innocent and unconscious as the day. he strode into the justice-room, his eye flashing, his brow haughty, his colour high. never had gay hamish looked so scornfully indignant. he threw his glance round the crowded court in search of arthur, and it found him.

their eyes met. a strange gaze it was, going out from the one to the other; a gaze which the brothers had never in all their lives exchanged. arthur’s spoke of shame all too palpably—he could not help it in that bitter moment—shame for his brother. and hamish shrank under it. if ever one cowered visibly in this world, hamish channing did then. a low, suppressed cry went up from arthur’s heart: whatever fond, faint doubt may have lingered in his mind, it died out from that moment.

others noticed the significant look exchanged between them; but they, not in the secret, saw only, on the part of hamish, what they took for vexation at his brother’s position. it was suggested that it would save time to take the evidence of mr. hamish channing at once. mr. galloway’s might be received later.

“what evidence?” demanded hamish, standing before the magistrates in a cold, uncompromising manner, and speaking in a cold, uncompromising tone. “i have none to give. i know nothing of the affair.”

“not much, we are aware; but what little you do know must be spoken, mr. hamish channing.”

they did not swear him. these were only informal, preliminary proceedings. country courts of law are not always conducted according to orthodox rules, nor was that of helstonleigh. there would be another and a more formal examination before the committal of the prisoner for trial—if committed he should be.

a few unimportant questions were put to hamish, and then he was asked whether he saw the letter in question.

“i saw a letter which i suppose to have been the one,” he replied. “it was addressed to mr. robert galloway, at ventnor.”

“did you observe your brother take it into mr. galloway’s private room?”

“yes,” answered hamish. “in putting the desks straight before departing for college, my brother carried the letter into mr. galloway’s room and left it there. i distinctly remember his doing so.”

“did you see the letter after that?”

“no.”

“how long did you remain alone while your brother was away?”

“i did not look at my watch,” irritably returned hamish, who had spoken resentfully throughout, as if some great wrong were being inflicted upon him in having to speak at all.

“but you can guess at the time?”

“no, i can’t,” shortly retorted hamish. “and ‘guesses’ are not evidence.”

“was it ten minutes?”

“it may have been. i know he seemed to be back almost as soon as he had gone.”

“did any person—clerk, or stranger, or visitor, or otherwise—come into the office during his absence from it?”

“no.”

“no person whatever?”

“no person whatever. i think,” continued hamish, volunteering an opinion upon the subject, although he knew it was out of all rule and precedent to do so, “that there is a great deal of unprofitable fuss being made about the matter. the money must have been lost in going through the post; it is impossible to suppose otherwi—”

hamish was stopped by a commotion. clattering along the outer hall, and bursting in at the court door, his black hair disordered, his usually pale cheeks scarlet, his nostrils working with excitement, came roland yorke. he was in a state of fierce emotion. learning, as he had done by accident, that arthur had been arrested upon the charge, he took up the cause hotly, gave vent to a burst of passionate indignation (in which he abused every one under the sun, except arthur), and tore off to the town-hall. elbowing the crowd right and left, in his impetuosity, pushing one policeman here and another there, who would have obstructed his path, he came up to arthur and ranged himself by his side, linking his arm within his in an outburst of kindly generosity.

“old fellow, who has done this?”

“mr. roland yorke!” exclaimed the bench, indignantly. “what do you mean by this behaviour? stand away, if you please, sir.”

“i’ll stand away when arthur channing stands away,” retorted yorke, apparently ignoring whose presence he was in. “who accuses him? mr. galloway does not. this is your doing, butterby.”

“take care that their worships don’t commit you for contempt of court,” retorted mr. butterby. “you are going on for it, roland yorke.”

“let them commit me, if they will,” foamed roland. “i am not going to see a friend falsely accused, and not stand up for him. channing no more touched that money than any of you did. the post-office must have had it.”

“a moment, mr. roland yorke: if you can calm yourself sufficiently to answer as a rational being,” interposed the magistrate who had addressed arthur. “have you any proof to urge in support of your assertion that the prisoner did not touch it?”

“proof, sir!” returned roland, subsiding, however, into a tone of more respect: “does it want proof to establish the innocence of arthur channing? every action of his past life is proof. he is honest as the day.”

“this warm feeling does you credit, in one sense—”

“it does me no credit at all,” fiercely interrupted roland. “i don’t defend him because he is my friend; i don’t defend him because we are in the same office, and sit side by side at the same desk; i do it, because i know him to be innocent.”

“how do you know it?”

“he could not be guilty. he is incapable of it. better accuse me, or jenkins, than accuse him!”

“you and jenkins were not at the office during the suspected time.”

“well, i know we were not,” acknowledged roland, lowering his voice to a more reasonable tone. “and, just because it happened, by some cross-grained luck, that channing was, butterby pitches upon him, and accuses him of the theft. he never did it! and i’ll say it with my last breath.”

with some trouble: threatenings on the part of the court; and more explosions from himself: mr. roland yorke was persuaded to retire. he went as far as the back of the room, and there indulged in under-currents of wrath, touching injustice and mr. butterby, to a select circle who gathered round him. warm-hearted and generous, by fits and starts, was roland yorke; he had inherited it with his irish blood from lady augusta.

but meanwhile, where was mr. galloway? he did not make his appearance, and it was said he could not be found. messenger after messenger was despatched to his office, to his house; and at length mr. butterby went himself. all in vain; his servants knew nothing about him. jenkins, who had the office to himself, thought he must be “somewhere in the town,” as he had not said he was going out of it. mr. butterby went back crest-fallen, and confessed that, not to take up longer the time of their worships unnecessarily, the case must be remanded to the morrow.

“we will take bail,” said the magistrates, before the application was made. “one surety will be sufficient; fifty pounds.”

at that, mr. roland, who by this time was standing in a sullen manner against a pillar of the court, his violence gone, and biting his nails moodily, made a rush to the front again, heeding little who he knocked down in the process. “i’ll be bail,” he cried eagerly. “that is, lady augusta will—as i am not a householder. i’ll hunt her up and bring her here.”

he was turning in impetuous haste to “hunt up” lady augusta, when hamish channing imperatively waved to him to be still, and spoke to the bench.

“my father’s security will be sufficient, i presume?”

“quite so.”

since mr. channing’s incapacity, power to sign and to act for him had been vested in hamish; and the matter was concluded at once. the court poured out its crowd. hamish was on the point of taking arthur’s arm, but was pushed aside by roland yorke, who seized upon it as if he could never make enough of him.

“the miserable idiots! to bring such a charge against you, arthur! i have been half mad ever since i heard of it.”

“thank you, yorke. you are very kind—”

“‘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 calm temper, such as yours, arthur, may be very—what do they call it?—christian; but i’m blest if it’s useful! i should have made their ears tingle, had they put me there, as they have not tingled for many a day.”

“who do you suppose took the note?” inquired hamish of roland yorke, speaking for the first time.

“bother the note!” was the rejoinder of mr. roland. “it’s nothing to us who took it. arthur didn’t. go and ask the post-office.”

“but the seal?” hamish was beginning in a friendly tone of argument. 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. “jenkins says he knows he did not, by the remarks galloway made to him this morning. and galloway has been away ever since eleven o’clock, we can’t tell where. it is nobody but that evil, mischief-making butterby, and i’d give a crown out of my pocket to have a good duck at him in the river!”

with regard to mr. galloway’s knowing nothing of the active proceedings taken against arthur, roland was right. mr. butterby had despatched a note to mr. galloway’s office at one o’clock, stating what he had done, and requesting him to be at the office at two, for the examination—and the note had been lying there ever since.

it was being opened now. now—at the exact moment that mr. roland yorke was giving vent to that friendly little wish, about the river and mr. butterby. mr. galloway had met a friend in the town, and had gone with him a few miles by rail into the country, on unexpected business. he had just returned to find the note, and to hear jenkins’ account of arthur’s arrest.

“i am vexed at this,” he exclaimed, his tone betraying excessive annoyance. “butterby has exceeded his orders.”

jenkins thought he might venture to put in a word for arthur. he had been intensely surprised, indeed grieved, at the whole affair; and not the less so that he feared what he had unconsciously repeated, about a twenty-pound note paying arthur’s debts, might have helped it on.

“i feel as sure as can be, sir, that it was not mr. arthur channing,” he deferentially said. “i have not been in this office with him for more than twelve months without learning something of his principles.”

“the principles of all the channings are well known,” returned mr. galloway. “no; whatever may be the apparent proofs, i cannot bring myself to think it could be arthur channing. although—” mr. galloway did not say although what, but changed the topic abruptly. “are they in court now?”

“i expect so, sir. mr. yorke is not back yet.”

mr. galloway walked to the outer door, deliberating what his course should be. the affair grieved him more than he could express; it angered him; chiefly for his old friend mr. channing’s sake. “i had better go up to the guildhall,” he soliloquized, “and see if—”

there they were, turning the corner of the street; roland yorke, hamish, and arthur; and the followers behind. mr. galloway waited till they came up. hamish did not enter, or stop, but went straight home. “they will be so anxious for news,” he exclaimed. not a word had been exchanged between the brothers. “no wonder that he shuns coming in!” thought arthur. roland yorke threw his hat from him in silence, and sat down in his place at the desk. mr. galloway touched arthur with his finger, motioned him towards the private room, and stood there facing him, speaking gravely.

“tell me the truth, as before god. are you innocent or guilty? what you say shall not be used against you.”

quick as lightning, in all solemn earnestness, the word “innocent” was on arthur’s lips. it had been better for him, perhaps, that he had spoken it. but, alas! that perplexity, as to how far he might venture to assert his own innocence, was upon him still. what impression could this hesitation, coupled with the suspicious circumstances, make upon the mind of mr. galloway?

“have you no answer?” emphatically asked mr. galloway.

“i am not guilty, sir.”

meanwhile, what do you suppose were the sensations of mr. channing? we all know that anguish of mind is far more painful to bear when the body is quiescent, than when it is in motion. in any great trouble, any terrible suspense, look at our sleepless nights! we lie, and toss, and turn; and say, when will the night be gone? in the day we can partially shake it off, walking hither and thither; the keenness of the anguish is lost in exertion.

mr. channing could not take this exertion. lying there always, his days were little better to him than nights, and this strange blow, which had fallen so suddenly and unexpectedly, nearly overwhelmed him. until that afternoon he would have confidently said that his son might have been trusted with a room full of untold gold. he would have said it still, but for arthur’s manner: it was that which staggered him. more than one urgent message had been despatched for mr. galloway, but that gentleman was unable to go to him until late in the evening.

“my friend,” said mr. galloway, bending over the sofa, when they were alone, “i am more grieved at this than you can be.”

mr. channing clasped his hand. “tell me what you think yourself; the simple truth; i ask it, galloway, by our long friendship. do you think him innocent or guilty?”

there might be no subterfuge in answer to words so earnest, and mr. galloway did not attempt any. he bent lower, and spoke in a whisper. “i believe him to be guilty.”

mr. channing closed his eyes, and his lips momentarily moved. a word of prayer, to be helped to bear, was going up to the throne of god.

“but, never think that it was i who instituted these proceedings against him,” resumed mr. galloway. “when i called in butterby to my aid this morning, i had no more notion that it was arthur channing who was guilty, than i had that it was that sofa of yours. butterby would have cast suspicion to him then, but i repelled it. he afterwards acted upon his own responsibility while my back was turned. it is as i say often to my office people: i can’t stir out for a few hours but something goes wrong! you know the details of the loss?”

“ay; by heart,” replied mr. channing. “they are suspicious against arthur only in so far as that he was alone with the letter. sufficient time must have been taken, as i conclude, to wet the envelope and unfasten the gum; and it would appear that he alone had that time. this apparent suspicion would have been nothing to my mind, knowing arthur as i do, had it not been coupled with a suspicious manner.”

“there it is,” assented mr. galloway, warmly. “it is that manner which leaves no room for doubt. i had him with me privately when the examination was over, and begged him to tell me, as before god: innocent or guilty. he could not. he stood like a statue, confused, his eyes down, and his colour varying. he is badly constituted for the commission of crime, for he cannot brave it out. one, knowing himself wrongfully accused, would lay his hand upon his heart, with an upright countenance, and say, i am innocent of this, so help me heaven! i must confess i did not like his manner yesterday, when he heard me say i should place it in the hands of the police,” continued mr. galloway. “he grew suddenly agitated, and begged i would not do so.”

“ay!” cried mr. channing, with a groan of pain he could not wholly suppress. “it is an incredible mystery. what could he want with the money? the tale told about his having debts has no foundation in fact; he has positively none.”

mr. galloway shook his head; he would not speak out his thoughts. he knew that hamish was in debt; he knew that master roland yorke indulged in expensive habits whenever he had the opportunity, and he now thought it likely that arthur, between the two examples, might have been drawn in. “i shall not allow my doubts of him to go further than you,” he said aloud. “and i shall put a summary stop to the law proceedings.”

“how will you do that, now that they are publicly entered upon?” asked mr. channing.

“i’ll manage it,” was the reply. “we’ll see which is strongest, i or butterby.”

when they were gathering together for the reading, that night, arthur took his place as usual. mr. channing looked at him sternly, and spoke sternly—in the presence of them all. “will your conscience allow you to join in this?”

how it stung him! knowing himself innocent; seeing hamish, the real culprit, basking there in their love and respect, as usual; the unmerited obloquy cast upon him was almost too painful to bear. he did not answer; he was battling down his rebellious spirit; and the gentle voice of mrs. channing rose instead.

“james, there is all the more need for him to join in it, if things are as you fear.” and mr. channing applied himself to the reading.

“my son, if thou come to serve the lord, prepare thy soul for temptation. set thy heart aright, and constantly endure, and make not haste in time of trouble.”

it was a portion of scripture rarely chosen, and, perhaps for that reason, it fell upon arthur with greater force. as he listened, the words brought healing with them; and his sore spirit was soothed, and grew trusting and peaceful as that of a little child.