"Were you in time on Saturday afternoon ?" I broke free from him in the astonishment of hearing those words.
"What!" I cried out loud, forgetting the third person at the window.
"That man who brought the message--" "Hush!" he said, putting his hand on my lips.

"There was no better man to be found, after the officers had taken me--I know no more about him than you do--I paid him well as a chance messenger, and risked his cheating me of his errand." "_You_ sent him, then!" "I sent him." My story is over, gentlemen.

There is no need for me to tell you that Mr.Fauntleroy was found guilty, and that he died by the hangman's hand.
It was in my power to soothe his last moments in this world by taking on myself the arrangement of some of his private affairs, which, while they remained unsettled, weighed heavily on his mind.

They had no connection with the crimes he had committed, so I could do him the last little service he was ever to accept at my hands with a clear conscience.
I say nothing in defense of his character--nothing in palliation of the offense for which he suffered.

But I cannot forget that in the time of his most fearful extremity, when the strong arm of the law had already seized him, he thought of the young man whose humble fortunes he had helped to build; whose heartfelt gratitude he had fairly won; whose simple faith he was resolved never to betray.