They walked back arm-in-arm to Mr. Galloway’s, Roland and Arthur. Hamish went the other way, to his own office, and Mr. Galloway lingered somewhere behind. Jenkins--truehearted Jenkins, in the black handkerchief still--was doubly respectful to Arthur, and rose to welcome him; a faint hectic of pleasure illumining his face at the termination of the charge. “Who said our office was going to be put down for a thief’s!” uttered Roland. “Old Galloway’s a trump! Here’s your place, Arthur.” Arthur did not take it. He had seen from the window the approach of Mr. Galloway, and delicacy prevented his assuming his old post until bade to do so. Mr. Galloway came in, and motioned him into his own room. “Arthur Channing,” he said, “I have acted leniently in this unpleasant matter, for your father’s sake; but, from my very heart, I believe you to be guilty.” “I thank you, sir,” Arthur said, “for that and all other kindness. I am not as guilty as you think me. Do you wish me to leave?” “If you can give me no better assurance of your innocence--if you can give me no explanation of the peculiar and most unsatisfactory manner in which you have met the charge--yes. To retain you here would be unjust to my own interests, and unfair as regards Jenkins and Roland Yorke.” To give this explanation was impossible; neither dared Arthur assert more emphatically his innocence. Once convince Mr. Galloway that he was not the guilty party, and that gentleman would forthwith issue fresh instructions to Butterby for the further investigation of the affair: of this Arthur felt convinced. He could only be silent and remain under the stigma. “Then--I had better--you would wish me, perhaps--to go at once?” hesitated Arthur. “Yes,” shortly replied Mr. Galloway. He spoke a word of farewell, which Mr. Galloway replied to by a nod, and went into the front office. There he began to collect together certain trifles that belonged to him. “What’s that for?” asked Roland Yorke. “I am going,” he replied. “Going!” roared Roland, jumping to his feet, and dashing down his pen full of ink, with little regard to the deed he was copying. “Galloway has never turned you off!” “Yes, he has.” “Then I’ll go too!” thundered Roland, who, truth to say, had flown into an uncontrollable passion, startling Jenkins and arousing Mr. Galloway. “I’ll not stop in a place where that sort of injustice goes on! He’ll be turning me out next! Catch me stopping for it!” “Are you taken crazy, Mr. Roland Yorke?” The question proceeded from his master, who came forth to make it. Roland turned to him, his temper unsubdued, and his colour rising. “Channing never took the money, sir! It is not just to turn him away.” “Did you help him to take it, pray, that you identify yourself with the affair so persistently and violently?” demanded Mr. Galloway, in a cynical tone. And Roland answered with a hot and haughty word.