There was no
saying what things he might say. He would probably appear as a witness,
and nothing would keep that giddy tongue of his quiet. What a very queer
boy he was, and how strange were his suspicions! When any one else in
all the world would have accepted Sue's guilt as beyond doubt or
question, he persisted in declaring her innocent. Nay, more than that,
he had even declared that the man who had gone with her into the shop
was the guilty person. Harris knew there was no proof against the man.
No one had seen him take the locket; no one had witnessed its transfer
into Sue's pocket. The man was safe enough. No one living could bring
his guilt home to him.
But stay a moment! A horrible fear came over him. Why did that boy speak
like that? He saw Sue running away. Perhaps he had seen more than that.
Perhaps he had come on the platform of events earlier in the narrative.
Harris felt the cold sweat starting to his forehead as it occurred to
him that that awful boy had reason for his talk--that he _knew_ to whom
he was speaking. When Harris took the locket he might have been
flattening his nose against the window-pane at the pawnbroker's; he
might have seen all that was taking place. What was to be done? He could
not confess, and yet if he didn't he was in horrible danger; his present
state was worse than any state he had been in before.
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