Worthy Mr. Hooker was overwhelmed with pity at sight of the worn sallow face with the great eyes, in which he found every appearance confirmatory of the tale wherewith Bascombe had filled and prejudiced every fibre of his judgment. He listened in the kindest way while the poor boy forced the words of his confession from his throat. But Leopold never dreamed of attributing his emotion to any other cause than compassion for one who had been betrayed into such a crime. It was against his will, for he seemed now bent, even to unreason, on fighting every weakness, that he was prevailed upon to take a little wine. Having ended, he sat silent, in the posture of one whose wrists are already clasped by the double bracelet of steel. Now Mr. Hooker had thought the thing out in church on the Sunday; and after a hard run at the tail of a strong fox over a rough country on the Monday, and a good sleep well into the morning of the Tuesday, could see no better way. His device was simple enough. “My dear young gentleman,” he said, “I am very sorry for you, but I must do my duty.” “That, sir, is what I came to you for,” answered Leopold, humbly. “Then you must consider yourself my prisoner. The moment you, are gone, I shall make notes of your deposition, and proceed to arrange for the necessary formalities. As a mere matter of form, I shall take your own bail in a thousand pounds to surrender when called upon.” “But I am not of age, and haven’t got a thousand pounds,” said Leopold. “Perhaps Mr. Hooker will accept my recognizance in the amount?” said Bascombe. “Certainly,” answered Mr. Hooker, and wrote something, which Bascombe signed. “You are very good, George,” said Leopold. “But you know I can’t run away if I would,” he added with a pitiful attempt at a smile. “I hope you will soon be better,” said the magistrate kindly. “Why such a wish, sir?” returned Leopold, almost reproachfully, and the good man stood abashed before him. He thought of it afterwards, and was puzzled to know how it was. “You must hold yourself in readiness,” he said, recovering himself with an effort, “to give yourself up at any moment. And, remember, I shall call upon you when I please, every week, perhaps, or oftener, to see that you are safe. Your aunt is an old friend of mine, and there will be no need of explanations. This turns out to be no common case, and after hearing the whole, I do not hesitate to offer you my hand.” Leopold was overcome by his kindness, and withdrew speechless, but greatly relieved. Several times during the course of his narrative, its apparent truthfulness and its circumstantiality went nigh to stagger Mr. Hooker; but a glance at Bascombe’s face, with its half-amused smile, instantly set him right again, and he thought with dismay how near he had been to letting himself be fooled by a madman.