"Mr. Allan," he said, with
a swift change of tone, his voice trembling slightly, "will you look at
the amount of that cheque again?"
Cameron once more took the cheque, glanced at it. "Good Lord!" he cried.
"It is fifty!" His face showed blank amazement.
Quick, low, and stern came Mr. Rae's voice. "Yes," he said, "it is for
fifty pounds. Do you know that that is a forgery, the punishment for
which is penal servitude, and that the order for your arrest is already
given?"
The Captain sprang to his feet. Young Cameron's face became ghastly
pale. His hand clutched the top of Mr. Rae's desk. Twice or thrice he
moistened his lips preparing to speak, but uttered not a word. "Good
God, my boy!" said the Captain hoarsely. "Don't stand like that. Tell
him you are innocent."
"One moment, Sir," said Mr. Rae to the Captain. "Permit me." Mr. Rae's
voice, while perfectly courteous, was calmly authoritative.
"Mr. Allan," he continued, turning to the wretched young man, "what
money have you at present in your pockets?"
With shaking hands young Cameron emptied upon the desk the contents of
his pocketbook, from which the lawyer counted out ten one-pound notes,
a half-sovereign and some silver. "Where did you get this money, Mr.
Allan?"
The young man, still silent, drew his handkerchief from his pocket,
touched his lips, and wiped the sweat from his white face.
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