“So I did, my young fellow,” replied the doctor, with a kinder smile; “at least I can swear that you were walking with your eyes shut, and I thought you were walking in your sleep. It’s not quite the same thing. It is near it. But we are talking about my evidence on oath in a court of justice.”
“Shall I be tried?” asked the schoolboy in a hoarse whisper.
“Perhaps only by the magistrate,” replied the other, soothingly; “let us hope it will stop at that.”
“But it must, it must!” cried Pocket wildly. “I’m absolutely innocent! You said so yourself a minute ago; you’ve only to swear it as a doctor? They can’t do anything to me—they can’t possibly!”
The doctor stood looking into the sunless garden with a troubled face.
“Dr. Baumgartner!”
“Yes, my young fellow?”
“They can’t do anything to me, can they?”
Baumgartner returned to the fireside with his foreign shrug.
“It depends what you call anything,” said he. “They cannot hang you; after what I should certainly have to say I doubt if they could even detain you in custody. But you would only be released on bail; the case would be sent for trial; it would get into every paper in England; your family could not stop it, your schoolfellows would devour it, you would find it difficult to live down both at home and at school. In years to come it will mean at best a certain smile at your expense! That is what they can do to you,” concluded the doctor, apologetically. “You asked me to tell you. It is better to be candid. I hoped you would bear it like a man.”