He looked straight
before him, as the boy on the burning deck may have looked.
"I couldn't help it," he said. "I know you'll think I'm a criminal, but
I couldn't do it. I don't know how detectives can. I went over a
prison once, with father; and after I'd given the tip to Johnson I
remembered that, and I just couldn't. I know I'm a beast, and not
worthy to be a British citizen."
"I think it was rather nice of you," said Mabel kindly. "How did
you warn them?"
"I just shoved a paper under the man's door the one that I knew
where he lived to tell him to lie low."
"Oh! do tell me what did you put on it exactly?" Mabel warmed to
this new interest. "It said: 'The police know all except your names.
Be virtuous and you are safe. But if there's any more burgling I
shall split and you may rely on that from a friend.' I know it was
wrong, but I couldn't help it. Don't tell the others. They wouldn't
understand why I did it. I don't understand it myself."
"I do, said Mabel: it's because you've got a kind and noble heart."
"Kind fiddlestick, my good child!" said Gerald, suddenly losing the
burning boy expression and becoming in a flash entirely himself.
"Cut along and wash your hands; you're as black as ink."
"So are you," said Mabel, "and I'm not. It's dye with me. Auntie
was dyeing a blouse this morning. It told you how in Home Drivel
and she's as black as ink too, and the blouse is all streaky.
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