gh two square holes in
the handkerchief.

"Behold the robber!" said he.

"You know who is the robber?" Trove inquired.

Darrel raised the handkerchief and flung it back upon his head.

"'Tis Roderick Darrel," said he, his hand now on the shoulder of
the young man.

For a moment both stood looking into each other's eyes.

"What joke is this, my friend?" Trove whispered.

"I speak not lightly, boy. If where ye thought were honour an'
good faith, there be only guilt an' shame, can ye believe in
goodness?"

For his answer there were silence and the ticking of the clocks.

"Surely ye can an' will," said the old man, "for there is the
goodness o' thy own heart. Ah, boy, though I have it not, remember
that I loved honour an' have sought to fill thee with it. This
night I go where ye cannot follow."

The tinker turned, halting a pendulum.

Trove groaned as he spoke, "O man, tell me, quickly, what do you
mean?"

"That God hath laid his hand upon me," said Darrel, sternly. "I
cannot see thee suffer, boy, when I am the guilty one. O Redeemer
o' the world! haste me, haste me now to punishment."

The young man staggered, like one dazed by the shock of a blow,
stepped backward, and partly fell on a lounge against the wall.
Darrel came and bent over him. Trove sat leaning, his hand on the
lounge, staring up at the tinker, his eyes dreadful and amazed.

"You, you will confess and go to prison!" he whispered.

"Fair soul!" said the old man, stroking the boy's head, "think not
o' me. Where I go there be flowers--lovely flowers! an' music, an'
the bards an' prophets. Though I go to punishment, still am I in
the Blessed Isles."

"You are doing it to save me," Trove whispered, taking the hand of
the old man. "I'll not permit it. I'll go to prison first."

"Am I so great a fool, think ye, as to claim an evil that is not
mine? An' would ye keep in me the burning o' remorse when I seek
to quench it? I warn thee, meddle not with the business o' me
soul. That is between the great God an' me."

Darrel stood to his full height, the red handkerchief covering his
head and falling on his back. He began with a tone of contempt
that changed quickly into one of sharp command. There was a little
silence and then a quick rap.

"Come in," Darrel shouted, as he let the handkerchief fall upon his
face again.

The district attorney, a constable, and the bank clerk, who had
been injured the night of the robbery, came