In Sight of St. Paul's — page 182: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE LAST LINK. VW7 ‘‘There’s nothing to forgive, father,’’ he said, ten- derly. ‘‘You were asked a question which neither Gillie nor myself could - answer at the inquest. Re- member the pistol was in our hands only a moment. You have spoken the truth, and, whatever the conse- quences may be, you are not to blame.’’ He led his father to the chair and forced him down gently into it. ‘‘Now, sir,’’? he said, turning to the inspector, who had been quietly watching the scene, ‘‘what do you intend to do?’’ ‘I’m very sorry,’’ returned Clarkson, slowly, and the tone of his voice showed that he was sincere, “but you must come with me.’’ ‘‘Arrested !”’ The inspector bowed. “My son! My son!’’? moaned the old man, in agony. “Don’t give way, dad,’’ said Tom, patting him encouragingly upon the shoulder. ‘I’m not the first innocent man to go to jail.’’ Clarkson was puzzled. He had arrested many a supposed criminal, but none who had taken the matter in this way, with the quiet confidence that all would end weil. And yet the proofs were overwhelm- ingly against him. ‘‘Where’s my sister, Becky, and Miss Millar?’? & m cEomirchbooks.¢€o