“Going to act like a man, sir. Think I’m such a brute? Poor old fellow, I felt quite cut, hard as I am, and I’d have asked him to shake hands over it, only he couldn’t have taken it kindly from me. You seem a man of the world, sir. He’s one of those dreamy sort of naturalist fellows. Tell him from me I’d have given anything sooner than all this should have happened. It was my duty to see him about his resistance to the law. But, poor old fellow, he was doing his natural duty in defence of his boy, just as I felt that I was doing mine.”
Uncle Luke did not speak, but stood holding out his hand. The officer gripped it eagerly, and they two stood gazing in each other’s faces for a few moments.
“Thank you,” said Uncle Luke gently; and after a time the officer rose to go.
“Yes, sir,” he said, at parting, “I shall stay down here till the poor boy is found. Some one in town will be on the look-out for our friend Pradelle, for, unless I’m very much mistaken, he’s the monkey who handled the cat’s paws. Good morning.”
Uncle Luke stood at the door watching the officer till he was out of sight, and then returned to the old dining-room, to find his brother still gazing into vacancy, just as he had been left.
“News, Luke?” he said, as he looked eagerly. “No, you need not speak. Perhaps it is better so. Better death than this terrible dishonour.”