g man's
influence? And the thought of all that was before the mute creature,
sitting there in heavy, hopeless patience, stung Felix's heart so that he
could hardly bear to look him in the face.

Derek had taken the man's thick, brown hand; Felix could see with what
effort the boy was biting back his feelings.

"This is Mr. Pogram, Bob. A solicitor who'll do all he can for you."

Felix looked at Mr. Pogram. The little man was standing with arms
akimbo; his face the queerest mixture of shrewdness and compassion, and
he was giving off an almost needlessly strong scent of gutta-percha.

"Yes, my man," he said, "you and I are going to have a talk when these
gentlemen have done with you," and, turning on his heel, he began to
touch up the points of his little pink nails with a penknife, in front of
the constable who stood outside the cell door, with his professional air
of giving a man a chance.

Invaded by a feeling, apt to come to him in Zoos, that he was watching a
creature who had no chance to escape being watched, Felix also turned;
but, though his eyes saw not, his ears could not help hearing.

"Forgive me, Bob! It's I who got you into this!"

"No, sir; naught to forgive. I'll soon be back, and then they'll see!"

By the reddening of Mr. Pogram's ears Felix formed the opinion that the
little man, also, could hear.

"Tell her not to fret, Mr. Derek. I'd like a shirt, in case I've got to
stop. The children needn' know where I be; though I an't ashamed."

"It may be a longer job than you think, Bob."

In the silence that followed Felix could not help turning. The laborer's
eyes were moving quickly round his cell, as if for the first time he
realized that he was shut up; suddenly he brought those big hands of his
together and clasped them between his knees, and again his gaze ran round
the cell. Felix heard the clearing of a throat close by, and, more than
ever conscious of the scent of gutta-percha, grasped its connection with
compassion in the heart of Mr. Pogram. He caught Derek's muttered,
"Don't ever think we're forgetting you, Bob," and something that sounded
like, "And don't ever say you did it." Then, passing Felix and the
little lawyer, the boy went out. His head was held high, but tears were
running down his cheeks. Felix followed.

A bank of clouds, gray-white, was rising just above the red-tiled roofs,
but the sun still shone brightly. And the thought of the big laborer
sitting there k