Mr. Rae's first care was to see Mr. Dunn. This case was getting rather more trying to Mr. Rae's nerves than he cared to acknowledge.
For a second time he had been humiliated, and humiliation was an experience to which Mr. Rae was not accustomed. It was in a distinctly wrathful frame of mind that he called upon Mr. Dunn, and the first quarter of an hour of his interview he spent in dilating upon his own folly in having allowed Captain Cameron to accompany him on his visit to Sir Archibald.
"In forty years I never remember having made such an error, Sir.
This was an occasion for diplomacy. We should have taken time. We should have discovered his weak spots; every man has them. Now it is too late. The only thing left for us is fight, and the best we can hope for is a verdict of NOT PROVEN, and that leaves a stigma."
"It is terrible," said Mr. Dunn, "and I believe he is innocent.
Have you thought of Potts, Sir?"
"I have had Potts before me," said Mr. Rae, "and I may safely say that though he strikes me as being a man of unusual cleverness, we can do nothing with Mr. Potts. Of course," added Mr. Rae hastily, "this is not to say we shall not make use of Mr. Potts in the trial, but Mr. Potts can show from his books debts amounting to nearly sixty pounds. He frankly acknowledges the pleasantry in suggesting the raising of the five-pound cheque to fifty pounds, but of the act itself he professes entire ignorance. I frankly own to you, Sir," continued Mr. Rae, folding his ear into a horn after his manner when in perplexity, "that this case puzzles me. I must not take your time," he said, shaking Mr. Dunn warmly by the hand.
"One thing more I must ask you, however, and that is, keep in touch with young Cameron. I have pledged my honour to produce him when wanted. Furthermore, keep him--ah--in good condition; cheer him up; nerve him up; much depends upon his manner."
Gravely Mr. Dunn accepted the trust, though whether he could fulfil it he doubted. "Keep him cheerful," said Mr. Dunn to himself, as the door closed upon Mr. Rae. "Nice easy job, too, under the circumstances. Let's see, what is there on? By Jove, if I could only bring him!" There flashed into Mr. Dunn's mind the fact that he was due that evening at a party for students, given by one of the professors, belated beyond the period proper to such functions by one of those domestic felicities which claim right of way over all other human events. At this party Cameron was also due. It was hardly likely, however, that he would attend. But to Dunn's amazement he found Cameron, with a desperate jollity such as a man might feel the night before his execution, eager to go.
"I'm going," he cried, in answer to Dunn's somewhat timid suggestion. "They'll all be there, old man, and I shall make my exit with much eclat, with pipe and dance and all the rest of it."
"Exit, be blowed!" said Dunn impatiently. "Let's cut all this nonsense out. We're going into a fight for all there's in us. Why should a fellow throw up the sponge after the first round?"
"Fight!" said Cameron gloomily. "Did old Rae say so?"
"Most decidedly."
"And what defence does he suggest?"
"Defence? Innocence, of course."
"Would to God I could back him up!" groaned Cameron.
Dunn gazed at him in dismay. "And can you not? You do not mean to tell me you are guilty?"
"Oh, I wish to heaven I knew!" cried Cameron wildly. "But there, let it go. Let the lawyers and the judge puzzle it out. 'Guilty or not guilty?' 'Hanged if I know, my lord. Looks like guilty, but don't see very well how I can be.' That will bother old Rae some; it would bother Old Nick himself. 'Did you forge this note?'
'My lord, my present ego recognizes no intent to forge; my alter ego in vino may have done so. Of that, however, I know nothing; it lies in that mysterious region of the subconscious.' 'Are you, then, guilty?' 'Guilt, my lord, lies in intent. Intent is the soul of crime.' It will be an interesting point for Mr. Rae and his lordship."
"Look here, old chap," asked Dunn suddenly, "what of Potts in this business?"
"Potts! Oh, hang it, Dunn, I can't drag Potts into this. It would be altogether too low-down to throw suspicion upon a man without the slightest ground. Potts is not exactly a lofty-souled creature. In fact, he is pronouncedly a bounder, though I confess I did borrow money of him; but I'd borrow money of the devil when I'm in certain moods. A man may be a bounder, however, without being a criminal. No, I have thought this thing out as far as I can, and I've made my mind up that I've got to face it myself.
I've been a fool, ah, such a fool!" A shudder shook his frame.
"Oh, Dunn, old man, I don't mind for myself, I can go out easily enough, but it's my little sister! It will break her heart, and she has no one else; she will have to bear it all alone."
"What do you mean, Cameron?" asked Dunn sharply.
Cameron sprang to his feet. "Let it go," he cried. "Let it go for to-night, anyway." He seized a decanter which stood all too ready to his hand, but Dunn interposed.
"Listen to me, old man," he said, in a voice of grave and earnest sadness, while he pushed Cameron back into a chair. "We have a desperately hard game before us, you and I,--this is my game, too,--and we must be fit; so, Cameron, I want your word that you will play up for all that's in you; that you will cut this thing out," pointing to the decanter, "and will keep fit to the last fighting minute. I am asking you this, Cameron. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to me, you owe it to your sister."
For some moments Cameron sat gazing straight before him, his face showing the agony in his soul. "As God's above, I do! I owe it to you, Dunn, and to her, and to the memory of my--" But his quivering lips could not utter the word; and there was no need, for they both knew that his heart was far away in the little mound that lay in the shadow of the church tower in the Cuagh Oir. The lad rose to his feet, and stretching out his hand to Dunn cried, "There's my hand and my honour as a Highlander, and until the last fighting moment I'll be fit."
