A fortnight had passed since the warrant had been duly served by the Sheriff, and for the past three days William had been an inmate of the Fleet prison.
The boys had rapidly regained their health, though William still carried his arm in a bandage, and the pallor of his handsome face showed the stress through which he had passed.
As soon as the state of their health had permitted it, their uncle had revealed to them the dangerous position in which William stood.
As Susan had surmised, "the brothers had no secrets," and Ralph's adventure in the Chiddingly woods was well known to William.
But to both of them the news that William, and not Ralph, was deemed the culprit, was a matter of profound amazement, and, on Ralph's part, of intense indignation.
"Oh, uncle," he cried, "this may not be! Mine was the folly, if folly it was, and on my head must fall the consequences, be they what they may!"
An approving smile lit up Sir John's noble and dignified face as he replied—
"I knew that would be your first thought, and you may yet have to pay the penalty of your wild freak—Heaven only knows! But in this mistake of identity lies, perhaps, the path of safety, and the Master of the Rolls agrees with me that it is our wisest course to let the matter proceed."
With great reluctance Ralph consented, with the assurance of his uncle that if aught went amiss, and William was not acquitted, the whole truth should be told.