He heartily prayed his forgiveness, but what could he do?
Nothing.

No man felt that more sincerely than Mr Haredale.

He told the man as much, and left the house.
Feeling that he might have anticipated this occurrence, after what he had seen at Chigwell in the morning, where no man dared to touch a spade, though he offered a large reward to all who would come and dig among the ruins of his house, he walked along the Strand; too proud to expose himself to another refusal, and of too generous a spirit to involve in distress or ruin any honest tradesman who might be weak enough to give him shelter.

He wandered into one of the streets by the side of the river, and was pacing in a thoughtful manner up and down, thinking of things that had happened long ago, when he heard a servant-man at an upper window call to another on the opposite side of the street, that the mob were setting fire to Newgate.
To Newgate! where that man was! His failing strength returned, his energies came back with tenfold vigour, on the instant.

If it were possible--if they should set the murderer free--was he, after all he had undergone, to die with the suspicion of having slain his own brother, dimly gathering about him-- He had no consciousness of going to the jail; but there he stood, before it.