"I shall come quietly enough," said Westwood, with a smile. "You needn't trouble yourself about the bracelets."
"Ah, I dare say!" said the inspector. "You've been rather a slippery customer hitherto, I believe. We'll make sure of you now."
But Hubert interfered.
"No, no," he said—"Westwood is innocent! It was I—I who committed the crime for which he was condemned. Put the handcuffs on me, if on any one, but not on that innocent man!"
"Well, this is a rum start!" said the inspector to himself. "You don't look very fit to run away, sir; we won't trouble you," he said to Hubert with a friendly smile. "Head wrong, I suppose?" he asked of Cynthia, in a stage-aside.
They had some trouble in convincing him that Hubert meant to be taken to the station with Westwood; and, even when he had heard the story, it was plain that he did not quite believe it. However, he consented to let Hubert accompany him and then he remarked that, as it was getting late, it would be better if his companions started at once.
"And the old gentleman?" he said, looking at the General with interest. "Is he coming too?"
Hubert hesitated. Then he went up to the old man and touched him gently on the shoulder.
"Will you not look at me, sir?" he said. "Have you nothing to say to me before I go?"
No, he had nothing to say; he would never say anything again. The General was dead.