deliberate insult from one who
has been a friend hurts more than any amount of injury inflicted by an
avowed enemy.

They were both as kind and considerate as ever during the last stage of
our journey. From Dover to Charing Cross, Harris, I know, sat in a most
cramped and uncomfortable position all the way, so that I should rest as
easily as possible; but in some subtle manner our relationship had
changed. I had, of course, been their prisoner all along, but the fact
only came home to me now.

From Charing Cross we went in a cab to the prison, through the sunny
streets, so quiet at this early hour.

"Cheer up," counselled Freeman, as I shook hands with him and Harris,
from whom I was now, of course, unshackled. "You'll come before the
magistrate to-morrow or next day; depends on what the doctor says. He'll
see you directly. You'll want to communicate with your friends at once,
of course, and start arranging about your defence. I can send a wire, or
telephone to any one on my way home if you like."

He really was an astonishing good sort, though he had been implacable on
the handcuff question.

I thanked him, and gave him Jim Cayley's name and address and telephone
number.

"All right; I'll let Mr. Cayley know as soon as possible," he said,
jotting the details in his note-book. "What about Lord Southbourne?"

"I'll send word to him later."

I felt distinctly guilty with respect to Southbourne. I ought, of
course, to have communicated with him--or rather have got Freeman to do
so--as soon as I began to pull round; but somehow I'd put off the
unpleasant duty. I had disobeyed his express instructions, as poor
Carson had done; and the disobedience had brought its own punishment to
me, as to Carson, though in a different way; but Southbourne would
account that as nothing. He would probably ignore me; or if he did not
do that, his interest would be strictly impersonal,--limited to the
amount of effective copy I could turn out as a result of my experiences.

Therefore I was considerably surprised when, some hours afterwards,
instead of Jim Cayley, whom I was expecting every moment, Lord
Southbourne himself was brought up to the cell,--one of those kept for
prisoners on remand, a small bare room, but comfortable enough, and
representing the acme of luxury in comparison with the crowded den in
which I had been thrown in Petersburg.

Lord Southbourne's heavy, clean-shaven face was impassive as ever, and
he greeted me