Robert Despard was taken before the magistrate at Bow Street Police Court and was remanded, bail being refused. At the inquest on Ruby Strode the jury returned a verdict of manslaughter. On Despard’s next appearance at the police court he was committed for trial. This took place some weeks later, but in the meantime something like a panic seized the shareholders in the radium mine at Blackthorn Farm. There was a wild rush to "get out." The early birds in the City—those who were prepared and had merely gambled—managed to do so, and to make a small profit: others lost heavily. Here and there in Devonshire there were rumours of men and women who had lost all their savings in the venture. But the real sufferers who said nothing at all were old John Dale and Sir Reginald Crichton. They were utterly unprepared, and the tragedy that had occurred at Despard’s flat engaged their whole attention. They were too shocked and horrified to think of themselves, and even when they knew what was happening and saw the sudden drop in the shares, which were eventually knocked down to nothing, they made no attempt to save themselves. The thought of ruin never entered John Dale’s head. And when it was slowly born upon him that he was ruined he merely shrugged his shoulders and said no word. For his son had come back—had risen, as it were, from the dead. Fate was kind, and they were allowed to meet for a few brief moments before Rupert was re-arrested and taken back to prison. And though by the laws of his country he was still guilty and a convict, yet John Dale had the satisfaction of knowing that his son had always been innocent. And on his knees he thanked his God that he had been spared. And very humbly, too, he prayed for forgiveness for having ever doubted his own flesh and blood, for having, no matter what proof was given him, believed that his son could have been guilty of so mean and despicable a crime. A fortnight before the trial of Robert Despard took place, Sir Reginald arranged a meeting between his son Jim, John Dale, and Marjorie. "Repentance comes too late, I know," he said, "and it’s no use my trying to explain; but I hope it’s not too late to ask Miss Dale to forgive an old man whose greatest crime after all has been a foolish, unbending pride. I know now that it was false pride." Marjorie shook her head, and when Sir Reginald would have continued she stopped him. "There’s no need to say anything. Your attitude was perfectly natural. If I had been a woman instead of merely a girl and Jim had been my son instead of my lover I should have felt just the same, behaved just the same. So long as you and father understand—and will forgive us if our love has made us a little selfish sometimes—nothing else matters." She looked at her lover: "Does it, Jim?" Sir Reginald glanced at John Dale. But the old yeoman farmer said nothing.