When they had left the room, Thomas, who all
this while had been tramping up and down, trying
to look indifferent, approached the officer and
asked permission to speak to the prisoner.
Receiving a nod in answer, he went up to Arthur
and muttered in a rather husky voice:

"I say; this is an infernally awkward business.
I'm very sorry about it."

Arthur looked up with a face as serene as a summer
morning. "You have always been good to
me," he said. "There's nothing to be sorry
about. I shall be safe enough."

"Look here, Arthur!" Thomas gave his moustache
a hard pull and plunged head first into the
awkward question. "Is--all this anything to do
with--money? Because, if it is, I----"

"With money! Why, no! What could it have
to do----"

"Then it's some political tomfoolery? I
thought so. Well, don't you get down in the
mouth--and never mind all the stuff Julia talks.
It's only her spiteful tongue; and if you want
help,--cash, or anything,--let me know, will
you?"