The next day the police rode off with their prisoners, taking with them a light waggon, in which the wounded convict was laid, Dr Braydon having said that he was in no danger. But Frank Mayne was not of the party, for Sir John had heard the simple tale.
“And that man was your fellow-clerk in the government office? Yes, I remember something about his coming out in the same ship as my wife. I remember the case, because he was the second man charged with embezzlement at this government office; and I remember, too, saying that matters must be badly managed there.”
“Yes, he was my fellow-clerk, Sir John,” said Mayne. “He was found out at last, but the time has seemed very long.”
“And you say you were unjustly sentenced?”
“In Heaven’s name, Sir John, I do. I was faithful to my trust.”
“I believe you, Mayne,” said the governor, looking at him keenly; “and there shall be a thorough investigation of your case. In the meantime, what I can do I will. You hear, Nic, for your sake as well as his, Mayne is free to go anywhere in the colony, and I will see that justice is done him in every way.”
“Thank you, Sir John,” said Mayne hoarsely; “it is more than I could expect on my bare assertion.”
“Some bare assertions are better than oaths, eh, Braydon?” said Sir John. “What do you say?”
“I say that I have much forgiveness to ask of Mr Mayne: I ask it now of the man who saved my life.”