rd more than that," returned Pocket. "They've arrested somebody!"

"I thought I told you there was no truth in that?"

But Baumgartner had winced for once, and the boy had seen it, and his
retort was a precocious inspiration.

"That was only to avoid a scene at table, Dr. Baumgartner!"

"Well, my young fellow," said the doctor, after one of his wise pauses,
"and what if it was?"

"I can't sit here and let an innocent man lie in prison."

"He won't lie long."

"It's absolutely wicked to let them keep him at all."

"Nor will they, longer than another hour or two."

"Well, if they do, you know what I shall do!"

Pocket had never displayed such determination, nor incurred quite the same
measure or quality of wrath that Baumgartner poured upon him without a
word for the next few moments. It was a devouring gaze of sudden and
implacable animosity. The ruthless lips were shut out of sight, yet
working as though the teeth were being ground behind them; the crow's
footed face flushed up, and the crow's feet were no more; it was as though
age was swallowed in that flood of speechless passion till the whole man
was no older than the fiery eyes that blazed upon the boy. And yet the
most menacing thing of all was the complete control with which the doctor
broke this pregnant silence.

"You say that. I say otherwise. You had better find a book in the other
room till you know your own mind again."

"I know it now, unless they release that man," said Pocket, through his
teeth, although they chattered.

"Give them a chance, and give yourself one! It will be time to think of
clearing other people when they fail to clear themselves. Have more
patience! Think of your own friends, and give them time too."

If the last allusion was to the lad's letter, due in Leicestershire that
morning, it was as happy as all Baumgartner's last words. If he meant
himself to be included among Pocket's friends, there was food for thought
in the suggestion that a man of the doctor's obvious capacity was not idle
in the boy's best interests. Pocket was made to feel rather ashamed of
himself, as usual; but he could not forget the concentrated fury of the
look which had not been weakened by infuriate words; and the recollection
remained as an excuse, as well as a menace, in his mind. He had time
enough to think it over. Dr. Baumgartner smoked his meerschaum in the
gathering shade at the back of the house. The schoolboy sulked for some