‘Don’t say that, Lindsay. At the worst you can emigrate, and----’ ‘And hide myself. Yes, to be sure. I could do that.’ ‘I’ll tell you what I wish you would do for me,’ said Alec, after a pause. ‘Get my father to go back to Scotland. He cannot possibly do me any good. He----’ Alec stopped and bit his lip. He was ashamed to say that his father believed him guilty. ‘It is natural for him to wish to be here,’ began Blake. ‘He comes here and preaches at me,’ said Alec. ‘I dare say he means very well; but I really _cannot_ stand it. I think it is taking a mean advantage of circumstances, for I can’t run away, and I can’t very well tell him to leave me alone.’ ‘Can’t you listen in patience?’ ‘You see, I’ve got the chaplain on to me too.’ ‘I used to think you were rather fond of religious discussions,’ said Blake maliciously. Alec laughed. It was a hard joyless sound, not pleasant to hear. ‘The worst of it is, my two spiritual guides give contrary directions,’ he said. ‘But you have absolutely no conception how unpleasant it is to sit here and be preached at. Of the two I think I like the chaplain best. Professional training always tells, and----’ ‘Alec,’ interrupted Blake, who wanted to change the subject, ‘_can_ you imagine how that word “hundred” slipped out of that will?’ ‘It never was there,’ said Alec. Blake shook his head. ‘Or it would be there now.’ ‘You see the whole thing was left to me,’ Alec went on. ‘No one so much as touched it, except myself and----’ Suddenly he remembered something--the little incident of Laura’s curiosity. He paused rather awkwardly, considering whether it could possibly affect the matter, and decided that it was absolutely of no importance. He opened his lips to mention the circumstance as an excuse for his sudden silence, when he remembered that it was not very creditable to Laura, and besides, that he had promised her he would never speak of what she had done. He stopped again, when on the point of speaking, and looking up, he caught a surprised and troubled expression in his friend’s face. Meeting Alec’s gaze, Blake dropped his eyes. He saw that something was being concealed from him, and he had imagined that he had known every incident connected with the making of the will. ‘Blake is beginning to doubt me,’ said Alec to himself. ‘Soon I shall have no one left.’ When he next spoke, his voice, in spite of himself, was hard and repelling. He was too proud to give an explanation of his reticence; and Blake, on his side, was afraid to ask for any. When he left the prison he had not come to believe in his friends guilt; but his faith was shaken. ‘I won’t say I distrust him; and yet--it is very queer.’ That was the tenor of his thoughts. He felt profoundly sorry for Mr. Lindsay, and tried to persuade him to return to Scotland before the trial. But this would not have suited the old man’s ideas of his duty as a father. He would stay by his son, guilty though he were, to the end.