"Officer, do your duty," interrupted Mr. Arnot sternly. "Too much time has been wasted over the affair already, but out of regard for his mother I wished to give this young man an opportunity to make an exculpating explanation or excuse, if it were in his power. Since, according to his own statement, he is guilty, the law must take its course."
"You don't mean to send me to prison?" asked Haldane excitedly.
"I could never send you to prison," replied Mr. Arnot coldly; "your own act may bring you there. But I do mean to send you before the justice who issued the warrant for your arrest, held by this officer. Unless you can find some one who will give bail in your behalf, I do not see why he should treat you differently from other offenders."
"Mr. Arnot," cried Haldane passionately, "this is my first and only offence. You surely cannot be so cold-blooded as to inflict upon me this irreparable disgrace? It will kill my mother."
"You should have thought of all this last evening," said Mr. Arnot. "If you persist in ignoring the fact, that it is your own deed that wounds your mother and inflicts disgrace upon yourself, the world will not. Come, Mr. Officer, serve your warrant, and remove your prisoner."
"Is it your purpose that I shall be dragged through these streets in the broad light of day to a police court, and thence to jail?" demanded Haldane, a dark menace coming into his eyes, and finding expression in his livid face.
"Yes, sir," said the man of business, rising and speaking in loud, stern tones, so that all in the office could hear; "I mean that you or any one else in my employ who abuses my trust and breaks the laws shall suffer their full penalty."
"You are a hard-hearted wretch!" thundered Haldane; "you are a pagan idolater, and gold is your god. You crush your wife and servants at home; you crush the spirit and manhood of your clerks here by your cast-iron system and rules. If you had shown a little consideration for me you would have lost nothing, and I might have had a chance for a better life. But you tread me down into the mire of the streets; you make it impossible for me to appear among decent men again; you strike my mother and sisters as with a dagger. Curse you! if I go to jail, it will require you and all your clerks to take me there!" and he whirled on his heel, and struck out recklessly toward the door.
The busy reporter was capsized by the first blow, and his nose long bore evidence that it is a serious matter to put that member into other people's affairs, even in a professional way.