The real criminals in the robbery of the railway train escaped; my
young master, poor fellow, was caught. His father, one of the proudest
men in England, has grown prematurely old under the burden of this
terrible dishonour. He is broken-hearted, and a dying man, yet he
presents an impassive front to the world, with all the ancient courage
of his race. My young master is an only son, and failing his
appearance, should his father die, title and estate will pass to
strangers. Our helplessness in this situation adds to its horror. We
dare not make any public move. My old master is one with such
influence among the governing class of this country, of which he has
long been a member, that the average Englishman, if his name were
mentioned, would think his power limitless. Yet that power he dare not
exert to save his own son from a felon's life and death. However much
he or another may suffer, publicity must be avoided, and this is a
secret which cannot safely be shared with more than those who know it
now.'
'How many know it?'
'In this country, three persons. In an American prison, one.'
'Have you kept up communication with the young man?'
'Oh, yes.'
'Direct?'
'No; through a third person.
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