“It was,” replied Baumgartner; “but it was never meant to be. I had you in focus when you fired. What I did was done instinctively, but with time to think I should have done just the same. You had given me the chance of a lifetime, though nothing has come of it so far. And that was another reason for saving you, ill as you were, from the immediate consequences of an innocent act.” Pocket was passionately honest, as his worst friends knew; he had an instinctive admiration for downright honesty in another. His young soul was torn with grief and pity for the dead; he was already haunted by the inevitable and complex consequences of his fatal misadventure, and yet he could dimly appreciate the candid declaration of one who had attempted to turn that tragedy to instantaneous and inconceivable account. It was the mistaken kindness to himself that he still found most difficult to forgive. “It’s got to come out,” he groaned; “this will make it all the worse.” “You mean the delay?” “Yes! Who’s to tell them I didn’t do it on purpose, and run away, and then think better of it?” Baumgartner smiled. “Surely I am,” said he; but his smile went out with the words. “If only they believe me!” he added as though it was a new idea to him. It was a terrifying one to Pocket. “Why shouldn’t they?” was his broken exclamation. “I don’t know. I never thought of it before. But what can I swear to, after all? I can swear you shot a man, but I can’t swear you shot him in your sleep!” “You said you saw I did!” “So I did, my young fellow,” replied the doctor, with a kinder smile; “at least I can swear that you were walking with your eyes shut, and I thought you were walking in your sleep. It’s not quite the same thing. It is near it. But we are talking about my evidence on oath in a court of justice.” “Shall I be tried?” asked the schoolboy in a hoarse whisper. “Perhaps only by the magistrate,” replied the other, soothingly; “let us hope it will stop at that.” “But it must, it must!” cried Pocket wildly. “I’m absolutely innocent! You said so yourself a minute ago; you’ve only to swear it as a doctor? They can’t do anything to me—they can’t possibly!” The doctor stood looking into the sunless garden with a troubled face. “Dr. Baumgartner!” “Yes, my young fellow?” “They can’t do anything to me, can they?” Baumgartner returned to the fireside with his foreign shrug.