In the room behind this
is waiting a particular friend of mine--Mr. Cullen, a detective.
"Remember," Mr. Bundercombe added, his voice suddenly very stern and
threatening, "that through all the years that man--your rightful partner--
has been in prison, through all the agony of his trial, the humiliation of
his sentence, the name of neither one of you has passed his lips! Is it
your wish that the truth shall now be told?"
They shrank back. Harding was pale to the lips. Densmore was shivering.
"Very well, gentlemen," Mr. Bundercombe concluded. "If I send for the
lawyer Mr. Cullen can go. If you choose Mr. Cullen the lawyer can go."
Mr. Harding moistened his lips with his tongue. "We will make an
arrangement," he said. "We have been wrong. Now that I see you here,
Stanley," he continued, looking up with the first show of courage either
of them had exhibited, "I am ashamed! It was a dirty trick! Forget it!
After you were lagged we decided to turn over a new leaf and be honest.
We've been honest--inside the law, at any rate--and we've made money. Come
and take your share of it and forgive!"
"We were brutes!" Densmore agreed.
They were both bending over Stanley. Somehow or other his hands stole out
to them.
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