if his resolution lasted; for the road there goes straight on to Leith Harbour.  He hesitated, and made an effort; but S——­k, who knew him, and fancied from the wild look of his eye that he meditated throwing himself into the deep harbour of Leith, took him by an arm, motioning to W——­pe to take the other, and thus by a very small effort—­for really his resolution had departed, and his mind, so far as his intention went, was gone—­they half forced him up the long row.  When they arrived at Canonmills, here is the rider again, hurrying on:  he had executed his commission, whatever it was, and was galloping home.  But the moment he came forward, he pulled up.  He had, by a glance under the light of a lamp, caught a sight of the gun in the hands of S——­k, who had carried it when he took S——­th’s arm.  The man shouted to a policeman,

“Seize that robber!”

“Which of them?”

“Him with the gun.”

And in an instant the cowardly dog who had done the whole business was laid hold of.

“The gun is mine,” cried S——­th.  “It is I who am answerable for whatever was done by him who carried that weapon.  Take me, and let the innocent off.  I say this young man is innocent.”

“Very gallant and noble,” said the man; “but when we go to the hills, we like the deer that bears the horns.”

“We are up to them tricks,” said the policeman.  And S——­k is borne along, with courage, if he ever had any, gone, and his eye looking terror.

S——­th wanted to go along with him; but W——­pe seized him by the arm again and dragged him up by the east side of Huntly Street, whereby they could get easily to James’ Square.

In a few minutes more S——­th was at his mother’s door with the burning five pounds in his pocket.  He had meditated throwing it away, but the hurrying concourse of thoughts had prevented the insufficient remedy from being carried into effect.  When he opened the door he found his mother alone.  The sister had not yet come from the warehouse where she earned five shillings a week, almost the only source of her and the mother’s living; for the money which S——­th earned as a mere copying clerk in a writer’s office, went mostly in some other direction.  The mother soon observed, as she cast her eye over him, that there was something more than ordinary out of even his irregular way.  He was pale, woe-worn, haggard; nor did he seem able to stand, but hurried to a chair and flung himself down, uttering confusedly, “Something to drink, mother——­whisky.”

“I hae nane, Charlie, lad,” said she.  “Never hae I passed a day like this since your father died.  I have na e’en got the bit meat that a’ get that are under God’s protection.  But what ails ye, dear Charlie?”

“Never mind me,” replied the youth in choking accents.  “I am better.  Starving, starving!  O God! and my doing.  Yes, I am better—­a bitter cure—­starving,” he again muttered; and searching his pockets, and throwing the five pounds on the table—­“There, there, there,” he added.