"From Sir Arden Westhorpe, our chief county magistrate; and I am to take you before him immediately, sir."
"Upon what charge?" cried Arthur Lovell.
"Upon suspicion of having been concerned in the murder of Joseph Wilmot."
The millionaire drew himself up haughtily, and looked at the constable with a proud smile.
"This is too absurd," he said; "but I am quite ready to go with you. Be good enough to telegraph to my daughter, Mr. Lovell," he added, turning to the young man; "tell her that circumstances over which I have no control will detain me in Winchester for a week. Take care not to alarm her."
Everybody about the station had collected on the platform, and made a circle about Mr. Dunbar. They stood a little aloof from him, looking at him with respectful interest: altogether different from the eager clamorous curiosity with which they would have regarded any ordinary man suspected of the same crime.
He was suspected; but he could not be guilty. Why should a millionaire commit a murder? The motives that might influence other men could have had no weight with him.
The bystanders repeated this to one another, as they followed Mr. Dunbar and his custodian from the station, loudly indignant against the minions of the law.
Mr. Dunbar, the constable, and Mr. Balderby drove straight to the magistrate's house.
The junior partner offered any amount of bail for his chief; but the Anglo-Indian motioned him to silence, with a haughty gesture.