Chapter Twenty Six.
Turning over Leaves, new and old.
A very few words more, reader, and my story is done.
The trial of Medlock and Shanklin took place in due time, and among the witnesses the most important, but the most reluctant, was Reginald Cruden. It was like a hateful return to the old life to find himself face to face with those men, and to have to tell over again the story of their knavery and his own folly. But he went through with it like a man.
The prisoners, who were far more at their ease than the witness, troubled him with no awkward cross-examination, and when presently the jury retired, he retired too, having neither the curiosity nor the vindictiveness to remain and hear their sentence.
On his way out a familiar voice accosted him.
“Cruden, old man, will you shake hands? I’ve been a cad to you, but I’m sorry for it now.”
It was Blandford, looking weak and pale, with one arm still in a sling.
Reginald took his proffered hand eagerly and wrung it.
“I’ve been bitten over this affair, as you know,” continued Blandford, “and I’ve paid up for my folly. I wish I could come out of it all with as easy a conscience as you do, that’s all! Among them all I’ve lost a good deal more than money; but if you and Horrors will take me back in your set there’ll be a chance for me yet. I’m going to University College, you know, so I shall be staying in town. Harker and I will probably be lodging together, and it won’t be my fault if it’s far away from your quarters.”