“I declare most positively I do, sir,” was the prompt reply.
“I wish I could believe you. Oh! but this is a terrible trial to me. Even now I find it difficult to believe you are the boy who, years ago, worked at Stoke Ferry Farm.”
I will give you proofs, sir—incontrovertible proofs, if you need them, before many days are over our heads.”
“Peace! silence! Let it pass on. I believe your story, and so that’s enough. I see the likeness to my dead son when I gaze on your features. Yes, I believe all you have said. I took no notice of you when a child; now I would risk anything to save you from ignominy and disgrace. Leave it to me.”
The magistrate went to the door, and called out in a loud tone for Mr. Todd, who at once made his appearance in answer to the summons.
“The prisoner is persistent in his declaration of innocence, Mr. Todd,” said the magistrate, in his habitual official tone of voice.
“Is he, sir?” said the officer. “We know what that is worth.”
“Yes—oh, dear, yes—of course, Todd. Still, I do hope the young man, who is evidently well educated, may not be so bad as we think. However, you must take charge of him, and bring what witnesses you have to the court to-morrow morning. By the way, there is, I think, hardly any necessity now for the handcuffs. They can be removed.”
“Ah, certainly, your worship, if you wish it.”
Mr. Todd, with marvellous dexterity, removed the objectionable ruffles from the wrists of Mr. Sutherland, who was deeply sensible of this little favour. He was then marched off to gaol.