"Thank you," she said.
She called one of the women to her side. "You can easily get on without me, Mrs. Hartwell," she said in a low voice. "The most important thing for me is to look into this boy's case. I'm going to have him take me to his brother—if there is a brother."
Tom overheard the last sentence. His face paled. "Please don't take me to me brudder," he begged, a new ring in his voice. "He t'inks I'm honest. He'll t'row me out when you tell him! Don't take me. What's de use? I told you de trut'."
"If there is a brother, I want to talk with him," she answered. She requested the policeman to follow at a distance, and then asked Tom to lead them to his home.
"An' see that you take us to the right place, too," said the officer, with a warning look. "An' don't try to get away, for I'll be watchin' you."
They started off. The young woman did not take Tom's arm, for the same reason that she asked the policeman to follow several yards behind—that there might be no apparent capture, and no curious trailing crowd.
Tom's body palpitated with the dread of facing David—of what David would say to him, of the way David would look at him, but most of all of the change in David's attitude toward him, when these accusers should make plain to David that for two weeks he had been lying and stealing. He thought of escape—to get away from this young woman would be an easy matter; but a glance at the officer behind assured him that to try would mean merely the exchange of a kind captor for a harsh one. He preferred his chances with the young woman. So he led them on, his dread swelling with every step that brought them nearer to David.
The policeman was left waiting at the tenement entrance. Tom guided the young woman to his door, paused chokingly there, then led her into the little, dingy room, which was filled with a deeper hue of the coming twilight. David was lying in a doze, his face turned upward.
She glanced at the bed, saw only that a man was sleeping there, then glanced about. The poverty of the room and the sick figure confirmed Tom's story. She put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Please waken your brother," she whispered.
She stepped nearer the bed, but Tom hung fearfully back. And now she saw for the first time David's face with some distinctness. She started—bent over him—stared down at the face on the pillow. She trembled backward a pace. One hand reached out and caught a chair.