"You must remember," he said, "Beaufort, whatever happens, that Dalrulzian is altogether at your command."
"What can happen?" Beaufort asked.
"I scarcely know. I can be taken away, I suppose, and examined somewhere. You had better come with me. You are a barrister, and might help; and besides, it will always be for your advantage to get a little insight into Scotch law."
"I might be of use, perhaps; but in that case, you must tell me everything," Beaufort said.
"I ask no better," said the young man; and he repeated the narrative which he had told to Sir James Montgomery. "Don't you disbelieve me. What I say to you is the whole truth," he said,—"everything that there is to say."
"To disbelieve you would be impossible," said Beaufort, which was the first gleam of consolation he had. They had a long consultation, some of which was surprised by Rolls, who went and came, busy about the door, with sombre and undisguised anxiety.
Beaufort scouted the idea that there could be any question of murder. "Had you done as they suppose—seized the bridle in self-defence, and forced the horse a step too far—it would still only be accident," he said,—"at the very worst and bitterest, manslaughter; though I don't see how it could bear even such a verdict as that. There is no occasion for unnecessary alarm. Anything more is impossible."
At this moment Rolls came in; his countenance was lightened, yet excited. "There is one—that would like to speak to you, sir," he said.
There could be no doubt as to what the summons was. Rolls lingered behind when his master, with changing colour, but self-possession, left the room. He came up to Beaufort stealthily. "Sir," he said—"sir, will yon be all true?"
"What? Neither Mr Erskine nor myself is in the habit of saying what is not true."