A moment later Stane had opened the oilskin packet, and was unfolding the sheet of note-paper. Ainley watched him in amazement, and then as Stane held the paper towards him, and he bent over it, a look of consternation came on his face, and a quick oath broke from his lips. "God in heaven!"
"You had better put that paper in safety, again, Stane," said the policeman quickly. "Ainley recognized it first glance."
"It's a lie," cried Ainley. "I've never seen the thing in my life before!"
"Your tongue lies better than your face, Ainley. Just now your face told the truth. You have seen that paper before. You saw it at Oxford when you prepared yourself for the forgery that sent Stane to prison. You——"
"I'll not stand it!" cried Ainley jumping to his feet. "You are charging me with a crime of which a judge and jury found Stane guilty. It is insufferable. You can't expect any man to sit still."
"Where did you find that paper, Stane?" interrupted the policeman brusquely.
"In a copy of Jowett's Plato which Ainley had borrowed from me, and which he returned to my scout after I was arrested."
"It's a barefaced lie! A plot!" cried Ainley. "I'm surprised at you, Anderton—a representative of the law too—lending yourself to such an absurd charge. You ought to know better."
"I know more than you think, Ainley. You remember Jarlock who was in our set—?"
"Jarlock!" The name broke from Ainley in a tone of consternation.