was shut up; suddenly he brought those big hands of
his together and clasped them between his knees, and again his gaze ran
round the cell. Felix heard the clearing of a throat close by, and, more
than ever conscious of the scent of gutta-percha, grasped its connection
with compassion in the heart of Mr. Pogram. He caught Derek's muttered,
"Don't ever think we're forgetting you, Bob," and something that sounded
like, "And don't ever say you did it." Then, passing Felix and the
little lawyer, the boy went out. His head was held high, but tears were
running down his cheeks. Felix followed.

A bank of clouds, gray-white, was rising just above the red-tiled roofs,
but the sun still shone brightly. And the thought of the big laborer
sitting there knocked and knocked at Felix's heart mournfully,
miserably. He had a warmer feeling for his young nephew than he had ever
had. Mr. Pogram rejoined them soon, and they walked on together,

"Well?" said Felix.

Mr. Pogram answered in a somewhat grumpy voice:

"Not guilty, and reserve defence. You have influence, young man! Dumb
as a waiter. Poor devil!" And not another word did he say till they had
re-entered his garden.

Here the ladies, surrounded by many little Pograms, were having tea. And
seated next the little lawyer, whose eyes were fixed on Nedda, Felix was
able to appreciate that in happier mood he exhaled almost exclusively
the scent of lavender-water and cigars.

CHAPTER XXIII

On their way back to Becket, after the visit to Tryst, Felix and Nedda
dropped Derek half-way on the road to Joyfields. They found that the
Becket household already knew of the arrest. Woven into a dirge on the
subject of 'the Land,' the last town doings, and adventures on golf
courses, it formed the genial topic of the dinner-table; for the
Bulgarian with his carbohydrates was already a wonder of the past. The
Bigwigs of this week-end were quite a different lot from those of three
weeks ago, and comparatively homogeneous, having only three different
plans for settling the land question, none of which, fortunately,
involved any more real disturbance of the existing state of things than
the potato, brown-bread plan, for all were based on the belief held by
the respectable press, and constructive portions of the community, that
omelette can be made without breaking eggs. On one thing alone, the
whole house party was agreed--the importance of the question. Indeed, a
sincere conviction on thi