warrant? Are you sure they'll get a warrant? I'm sorry, uncle; but what have you done?"
"Haven't I tole you?"
"Yes, but they won't do very much to you for that. They'll only bring you up for the rest of your examination."
He remained silent for a time. At last he spoke—speaking with difficulty.
"It's worse than that. I done something. . . . They're bound to get it out. Practically they have got it out."
"Writin' things down—— I done something."
For the first time in his life, I believe, he felt and looked ashamed. It filled me with remorse to see him suffer so.
"We've all done things," I said. "It's part of the game the world makes us play. If they want to arrest you—and you've got no cards in your hand——! They mustn't arrest you."
"No. That's partly why I went to Richmond. But I never thought——."
His little bloodshot eyes stared at Crest Hill.
"That chap Wittaker Wright," he said, "he had his stuff ready. I haven't. Now you got it, George. That's the sort of hole I'm in."
That memory of my uncle at the gate is very clear and full. I am able to recall even the undertow of my thoughts while he was speaking. I remember my pity and affection for him in his misery growing and stirring within me, my realization that at any risk I must help