"He thinks it would be easier to clear you than it would be to trace the guilt to its proper quarter; but the one, you see, rests upon the other. There are no proofs, that we know of, to bring forward of that man's guilt; and----" "He took precious good care there should be none," interrupted Tom. "Let Anstey alone for protecting himself." "Just so. But--I was going to say--the Serjeant thinks you have one chance in your favour. It is this: The man, Anstey, being what he is, will probably fall into some worse crime which cannot be hidden or hushed up. When conviction overtakes him, he may be induced to confess that it was he, and not Captain Heriot, who bore the lion's share in that past exploit for which you suffered. Rely upon this, Tom--should any such chance of clearing your memory present itself, it will not be neglected. I shall be on the watch always." There was silence for a time. Tom was leaning back, pale and exhausted, his breath was short, his face gray, wan and wasted. "Has Leah been to see you?" Blanche asked him. "Yes, twice; and she considers herself very hardly dealt by that she may not come here to nurse me," he replied. "Could she not be here?" I shook my head. "It would not be safe, Blanche. It would be running another risk. You see, trouble would fall upon others as well as Tom, were he discovered now: upon me, and more especially upon Lennard." "They would be brought to trial for concealing me, just as I was brought to trial for a different crime," said Tom lightly. "Our English laws are comprehensive, I assure you, Blanche. Poor Leah says it is cruel not to let her see the end. I asked her what good she'd derive from it." Blanche gave a sobbing sigh. "How can you talk so lightly, Tom?" "Lightly!" he cried, in apparent astonishment. "I don't myself see very much that's light in that. When the end is at hand, Blanche, why ignore it?" She turned her face again to him, burying it upon his arm, in utmost sorrow. "Don't, Blanche!" he said, his voice trembling. "There's nothing to cry for; nothing. My darling sister, can't you see what a life mine has been for months past: pain of body, distress and apprehension of mind! Think what a glorious change it will be to leave all this for Heaven!" "Are you _sure_ of going there, dear?" she whispered. "Have you made your peace?" Tom smiled at her. Tears were in his own eyes. "I think so. Do you remember that wonderful answer to the petition of the thief on the cross? The promise came back to him at once, on the instant: 'Verily, I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.' He had been as much of a sinner as I, Blanche." Blanche was crying softly. Tom held her to him.