“Did you send it, Hamish?” asked his father, a severe look crossing his face.
“No, sir, I did not,” emphatically replied Hamish. And Mr. Huntley turned and bent his keen eye upon him. In his heart of hearts he believed it to be a deliberate falsehood.
“I did not send the money, and I do not know who did send it,” went on Hamish. “But, as we are upon the subject, perhaps I may be allowed to express my opinion that, if there were as much labour taken to establish Arthur’s innocence, as it seems to me there is to prove him guilty, he might have been cleared long ago.”
That the remark was aimed at Mr. Galloway, there was no doubt. Mr. Huntley answered it; and, had they been suspicious, they might have detected a covert meaning in his tone.
“You, at any rate, must hold firm faith in his innocence.”
“Firm and entire faith,” distinctly assented Hamish. “Father,” he added, impulsively turning to Mr. Channing, “put all notion of Arthur’s guilt from you, at once and for ever. I would answer for him with my life.”
“Then he must be screening some one,” cried Mr. Galloway. “It is one thing or the other. Hamish, it strikes me you know. Who is it?”
A red flush mounted to Hamish’s brow, but he lapsed into his former mocking tone. “Nay,” said he, “I can tell nothing about that.”
He left the room as he spoke, and the conference broke up. It appeared that no satisfactory solution could be come to, if they kept it on till midnight. Mr. Galloway took leave, and hastened home to dinner.
“I must be going also,” remarked Mr. Huntley. Nevertheless, he returned with Mr. Channing to the other room.