s
a thick one. He thought he had only to prolong his own stroke and bring
it round. He did this extremely well, but missed the deeper
characteristic--the thick upper stroke. This is proof of a high
character: and altogether I am prepared to testify upon oath that the
writer of the letter to Miss Rolleston, who signs himself Arthur Wardlaw,
is the person who forged the promissory note.

To these twelve proofs one more was now added. Arthur Wardlaw rose, and,
with his knees knocking together, said, "Don't arrest him, Burt; let him
go."

"Don't let _him_ go," cried old Penfold. "A villain! I have got the
number of the notes from Benson. I can prove he bribed this poor man to
destroy the ship. Don't let him go. He has ruined my poor boy."

At this Arthur Wardlaw began to shriek for mercy. "Oh, Mr. Penfold," said
he, "you are a father and hate me. But think of my father. I'll say
anything, do anything. I'll clear Robert Penfold at my own expense. I
have lost _her._ She loathes me now. Have mercy on me, and let me leave
the country!"

He cringed and crawled so that he disarmed anger, and substituted
contempt.

"Ay," said Burt. "He don't hit like you, Mr. Penfold; this is a chap that
ought to have been in Newgate long ago. But take my advice; make him
clear you on paper, and then let him go. I'll go downstairs awhile. I
mustn't take part in compounding a felony."

"Oh, yes, Robert," said Helen "for his father's sake."

"Very well," said Robert. "Now, then, reptile, take the pen, and write in
your own hand, if you can."

He took the pen, and wrote to dictation--

"I, Arthur Wardlaw, confess that I forged the promissory note for 2,000
pounds, and sent it to Robert Penfold, and that 1,400 pounds of it was to
be for my own use, and to pay my Oxford debts. And I confess that I
bribed Wylie to scuttle the ship _Proserpine_ in order to cheat the
underwriters."

Penfold then turned to Wylie, and asked him the true motive of this
fraud.

"Why, the gold was aboard the _Shannon,_" said Wylie; "I played
hanky-panky with the metals in White's store."

"Put that down," said Penfold. "Now go on."

"Make a clean breast," said Wylie. "I have. Say as how you cooked the
_Proserpine's_ log, and forged Hiram Hudson's writing."

"And the newspaper extracts you sent me," said Helen, "and the letters
from Mr. Hand."

Arthur groaned. "Must I tell all that?" said he.

"Every word, or be indicted," said Robert Penfold, sternly.