CHAPTER LIV.

PUT TO THE PROOF.

It was not at all likely that, at such a crisis, George Brand should pay much attention to the man Kirski, who was now ushered into the room.  He left Edwards to deal with him.  In any case he could not have understood a word they were saying, except through the interpretation of Edwards, and that was a tedious process.  He had other things to think of.

Edwards was in a somewhat nervous and excited condition after hearing this strange news, and he grew both impatient and angry when he saw that Kirski was again half dazed with drink.

“Yes, I thought so!” he exclaimed, looking as fierce as the mild student-face permitted.  “This is why you are not at the shop when I called to-day.  What do you mean by it?  What has become of your promises?”

“Little father, I have great trouble,” said the man, humbly.

“You!  You in trouble!” said Edwards, angrily.  “You do not know what trouble is.  You have everything in the world you could wish for.  You have good friends, as much employment as you can want, fair wages, and a comfortable home.  If your wife ran away from you, isn’t it a good riddance?  And then, instead of setting about your work like a good citizen, you think of nothing but murdering a man who is as far away from you as the man in the moon, and then you take to drinking, and become a nuisance to every one.”

“Little father, I have many troubles, and I wish to forget.”

“Your troubles!” said Edwards, though his anger was a little bit assumed:  he wished to frighten the man into better ways.  “What are your troubles?  Think of that beautiful lady you are always talking about, who interested herself in you—­the bigger fool she!—­think of her trouble when she knows that her father is to die; and for what?  Because he was not obedient to the laws of the Society.  And he is punished with death; and you, have you been obedient?  What has become of your promises to me?”

The man before him seemed at this moment to arouse himself.  He answered nothing to the reproaches hurled at him; but said, with a glance of eager interest in the sunken eyes,

“Is she in great trouble, little father?”

This gleam of intelligence rather startled Edwards.  He had been merely scolding a half-drunken poor devil, and had been incautious as to what he said.  He continued, with greater discretion,

“Would she have her troubles made any the less if she knew how you were behaving?  She was interested in you; many a time she asked about you—­”

“Yes, yes,” the man said, slowly; and he was twisting about the cap that he held in his hand.

“And she gave you her portrait.  Well, I am glad you knew you were not fit to retain such a gift.  A young lady like that does not give her portrait to be taken into public-houses—­”

“No more—­do not say any more, little father,” Kirski said, though in the same humble way.  “It is useless.”