“At any rate,” he almost heard her say, “if you didn’t do it, you made a friend of a man who did.  And you were in prison.”

Oh! there are countless excellent explanations of his really terrible depression; and yet somehow it does not seem to me at all in line with what I know of Frank, to think that they explain it in the least.  I prefer to believe, with a certain priest who will appear by and by, that the thing was just one stage of a process that had to be accomplished, and that if it had not come about in this way, it must have come about in another.  As for his religion, all emotional grasp of that fled, it seemed finally, at the touch of real ignominy.  He retained the intellectual reasons for which he had become a Catholic, but the thing seemed as apart from him as his knowledge of law—­such as it was—­acquired at Cambridge, or his proficiency in lawn-tennis.  Certainly it was no kind of consolation to him to reflect on the sufferings of Christian martyrs!

It was a Friday evening when he came out and went quickly round the corner of the jail, in order to get away from any possibility of being identified with it.

He had had a short interview with the Governor—­a very conscientious and religious man, who made a point of delivering what he called “a few earnest words” to every prisoner before his release.  But, naturally enough, they were extraordinarily off the point.  It was not helpful to Frank to have it urged upon him to set about an honest livelihood—­it was what he had tried to do every day since June—­and not to go about robbing innocent children of things like tins of salmon—­it was the very last thing he had ever dreamed of doing.

* * * * *

He had also had more than one interview with the chaplain of the Established Church, in consequence of his resolute refusal to acknowledge any religious body at all (he had determined to scotch this possible clue to his identification); and those interviews had not been more helpful than any other.  It is not of much use to be entreated to turn over a new leaf when you see no kind of reason for doing so; and little books left tactfully in your cell, directed to the same point, are equally useless.  Frank read them drearily through.  He did not actually kick them from side to side of his cell when he had finished; that would have been offensive to the excellent intentions of the reverend gentleman....

Altogether I do not quite like to picture Frank as he was when he came out of jail, and hurried away.  It is such a very startling contrast with the gayety with which he had begun his pilgrimage.

* * * * *

He had had plenty of time to think over his plans during the last fortnight, and he went, first, straight to the post-office.  The Governor had given him half-a-crown to start life with, and he proposed to squander fourpence of it at once in two stamps, two sheets of paper and two envelopes.