"Believe this much, Lord Level: what Tom said, he thought. Anyone more reprehensibly light and heedless I do not know, but he is incapable of falsehood. And in saying that he did not expect so grave a charge, or believe there were any grounds on which it could be made, I am sure he spoke only the truth. He was drawn in by one Anstey, and——"
"I read the reports of the trial," interrupted Lord Level. "Do not be at the pain of going over the details again."
"Well, the true culprit was Anstey; there's no doubt of that. But, like most cunning rogues, he was able to escape consequences himself, and throw them upon Tom. I am sure, Lord Level, that Tom Heriot no more knew the bill was forged than I knew it. He knew well enough there was something shady about it; about that and others which had been previously in circulation, and had been met when they came to maturity. This one bill was different. Of course there's all the difference between shady bills of accommodation, and a bill that has a responsible man's name to it, which he never signed himself."
"But what on earth possessed Heriot to allow himself to be drawn into such toils?"
"Ah, there it is. His carelessness. He has been reprehensibly careless all his life. And now he has paid for it. All's over."
"He is already on his passage out in the convict ship Vengeance, is he not?" said Lord Level, with suppressed rage.
"Yes: ever since early in August," shuddered Charles. "How does Blanche bear it?"
"Blanche does not know it."
"Not know it!"
"No. As yet I have managed to keep it from her. I dread its reaching her, and that's the truth. It is a fearful disgrace. She is fond of him, and would feel it keenly."