more
than justifiable homicide."
He sank back again once more, and murmured three times in his seat,
as if to himself, "Justifiable homicide! Justifiable homicide!
Just--ifiable homicide!"
Somebody rose in court as he sank, and moved quickly towards him.
The judge recognised him at once.
"Granville Kelmscott," he said; in a weary voice, "help me out of
this. I am very, very ill. You're a friend. I'm dying. Give me your
arm! Assist me!"
CHAPTER XLV.
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
Granville helped him on his arm into the judge's room amid profound
silence. All the court was deeply stirred. A few personal friends
hurried after him eagerly. Among them were the Warings, and Mrs.
Clifford, and Elma.
The judge staggered to a seat, and held Granville's hand long
and silently in his. Then his eye caught Elma's. He turned to her
gratefully. "Thank you, young lady," he said, in a very thick voice.
"You were extremely good. I forget your name. But you helped me
greatly."
There was such a pathetic ring in those significant words, "I
forget your name," that every eye about stood dimmed with moisture.
Remorse had clearly blotted out all else now from Sir Gilbert
Gildersleeve's powerful brain save the solitary memory of his great
wrong-doing.
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