“Then you must consider yourself my prisoner. The moment you, are gone, I shall make notes of your deposition, and proceed to arrange for the necessary formalities. As a mere matter of form, I shall take your own bail in a thousand pounds to surrender when called upon.”
“But I am not of age, and haven’t got a thousand pounds,” said Leopold.
“Perhaps Mr. Hooker will accept my recognizance in the amount?” said Bascombe.
“Certainly,” answered Mr. Hooker, and wrote something, which Bascombe signed.
“You are very good, George,” said Leopold. “But you know I can’t run away if I would,” he added with a pitiful attempt at a smile.
“I hope you will soon be better,” said the magistrate kindly.
“Why such a wish, sir?” returned Leopold, almost reproachfully, and the good man stood abashed before him.
He thought of it afterwards, and was puzzled to know how it was.
“You must hold yourself in readiness,” he said, recovering himself with an effort, “to give yourself up at any moment. And, remember, I shall call upon you when I please, every week, perhaps, or oftener, to see that you are safe. Your aunt is an old friend of mine, and there will be no need of explanations. This turns out to be no common case, and after hearing the whole, I do not hesitate to offer you my hand.”
Leopold was overcome by his kindness, and withdrew speechless, but greatly relieved.