A silence. It was filled up by the sound of Tom splashing the water on his face, and by that only. Arthur spoke presently, his tone so calm a one as almost to be unnatural. “How did the notion arise?” “Mark Galloway said he heard Butterby talking with his uncle; that Butterby said the theft could only have been committed by Arthur Channing. Mark Galloway’s ears must have played him false; but it was a regular sneak’s trick to come and repeat it to the school. I say, Constance, is my face clean now?” Constance woke up from a reverie to look at his face. “Quite clean,” she answered. He dried it, dried his hands, gave a glance at his shirt-front in the glass, which had, however, escaped damage, brushed his hair, and went downstairs. Arthur closed the door and turned to Constance. Her eyes were seeking his, and her lips stood apart. The terrible fear which had fallen upon both the previous day had not yet been spoken out between them. It must be spoken now. “Constance, there is tribulation before us,” he whispered. “We must school ourselves to bear it, however difficult the task may prove. Whatever betide the rest of us, suspicion must be averted from _him_.” “What tribulation do you mean?” she murmured. “The affair has been placed in the hands of the police; and I believe--I believe,” Arthur spoke with agitation, “that they will publicly investigate it. Constance, they suspect _me_. The college school is right, and Tom is wrong.” Constance leaned against a chest of drawers to steady herself, and pressed her hand upon her shrinking face. “How have you learnt it?” “I have gathered it from different trifles; one fact and another. Jenkins said Butterby was with him this morning, asking questions about me. Better that I should be suspected than Hamish. God help me to bear it!” “But it is so unjust that you should suffer for him.” “Were it traced home to him, it might be the whole family’s ruin, for my father would inevitably lose his post. He might lose it were only suspicion to stray to Hamish. There is no alternative. I must screen him. Can you be firm, Constance, when you see me accused?” Constance leaned her head upon her hand, wondering whether she could be firm in the cause. But that she knew where to go for strength, she might have doubted it; for the love of right, the principles of justice were strong within her. “Oh, what could possess him?” she uttered, wringing her hands; “what could possess him? Arthur, is there no loophole, not the faintest loophole for hope of his innocence?” “None that I see. No one whatever had access to the letter but Hamish and I. He must have yielded to the temptation in a moment of delirium, knowing the money would clear him from some of his pressing debts--as it has done.” “How could he brave the risk of detection?”