Not one difficulty, or one set of difficulties, had he to meet
and master. The armed enemies up-springing from the dragon's teeth which
he had sown were not to be set fighting amongst themselves, nor were they
to be smashed by any rocks that he could hurl amongst them. They stood
around him in an awful circle, and turn which way he would, he saw the
same appalling figure, armed to the teeth, and invincible as death.
What had he to fear?
Detection of a past crime? No, that was a fool's terror which shook him
at the sound of Tom Halliday's name--a child's fear of the nursery bogie.
Detection in the present was more to be dreaded. The work that he had
done was, according to his belief, work that could not be proved against
him. But there are crimes of which to be accused is to be condemned.
Lawyers may plead, and juries may acquit; but the fiat of public opinion
goes forth against the suspected wretch, and on _his_ forehead for ever
shows the dark brand of Cain.
For the criminal of almost every shade of colour, save this one dread
hue, society has a sanctuary and earth a refuge. The forger may find a
circle in which the signing of another man's name, under the pressure of
circumstances, is held to be a misfortune rather than an offence. The
swindler has the gentlemanly brotherhood and sisterhood of Macaire for
his family, and need never be lonely. The thief may dance away his jovial
nights among kindred spirits, and be carried to his grave by sorrowing
fellow-artists.
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