“Nay, if we are to compare merits, he was a far more likely subject for suspicion than Arthur,” was Mr. Huntley’s reply.
“He was, taking them comparatively. What I meant to imply was, that one could not have suspected that Roland, knowing himself guilty, would suffer another to lie under the stigma. Roland has his good points—if that may be said of one who helps himself to bank-notes,” concluded the master.
“Ay, he is not all bad. Witness sending back the money to Galloway; witness his persistent championship of Arthur; and going away partly to clear him, as he no doubt has done! I was as sure from the first that Arthur Channing was not guilty, as that the sun shines in the heavens.”
“Did you suspect Roland?”
“No. I had a peculiar theory of my own upon the matter,” said Mr. Huntley, smiling, and apparently examining closely the grain of the master’s desk. “A theory, however, which has proved to be worthless; as so many theories which obtain favour in this world often are. But I will no longer detain you, Mr. Pye. You must have had enough hindrance from your legitimate business for one morning.”
“The hindrance is not at an end yet,” was the master’s reply, as he shook hands with Mr. Huntley. “I cannot think what has possessed the school lately: we are always having some unpleasant business or other to upset it.”
Mr. Huntley went out, nodding cordially to Tom as he passed his desk; and the master turned his eyes and his attention on Gerald Yorke.
Lady Augusta had hastened from the college school as impetuously as she had entered it. Her errand now was to the Channings. She was eager to show them her grieved astonishment, her vexation—to make herself the amende for Roland, so far as she could do so. She found both Mr. and Mrs. Channing at home. The former had purposed being in Guild Street early that morning; but so many visitors had flocked in to offer their congratulations that he had hitherto been unable to get away. Constance also was at home. Lady Augusta had insisted upon it that she should not come to the children on that, the first day after her father and mother’s return. They were alone when Lady Augusta entered.
Lady Augusta’s first movement was to fling herself into a chair and burst into tears. “What am I to say to you?” she exclaimed. “What apology can I urge for my unhappy boy?”
“Nay, dear Lady Augusta, do not let it thus distress you,” said Mr. Channing. “You are no more to be held responsible for what Roland has done, than we were for Arthur, when he was thought guilty.”