“Mr. Allan,” he continued, turning to the wretched young man, “what money have you at present in your pockets?”
With shaking hands young Cameron emptied upon the desk the contents of his pocketbook, from which the lawyer counted out ten one-pound notes, a half-sovereign and some silver. “Where did you get this money, Mr. Allan?”
The young man, still silent, drew his handkerchief from his pocket, touched his lips, and wiped the sweat from his white face.
“Mr. Allan,” continued the lawyer, dropping again into a kindly voice, “a frank explanation will help us all.”
“Mr. Rae,” said Cameron, his words coming with painful indistinctness, “I don't understand this. I can't think clearly. I can't remember. That money I got from Potts; at least I must have—I have had money from no one else.”
“My God!” cried the Captain again. “To think that a son of mine should—!”
“Pardon me, Captain Cameron,” interrupted Mr. Rae quickly and somewhat sharply. “We must not prejudge this case. We must first understand it.”
At this point Dunn stepped swiftly to Cameron's side. “Brace up, old chap,” he said in a low tone. Then turning towards the Captain he said, “I beg your pardon, Sir, but I do think it's only fair to give a man a chance to explain.”
“Allow me, gentlemen,” said Mr. Rae in a firm, quiet voice, as the Captain was about to break forth. “Allow me to conduct this examination.”
Cameron turned his face toward Dunn. “Thank you, old man,” he said, his white lips quivering. “I will do my best, but before God, I don't understand this.”