"No; that's not it. Now then, tell me everything you know. You went to Dixon Street this morning; the woman told me all about it. You brought her here. You had a talk with her. Tell me everything that has taken place. You went to see Paul before the trial, too. Tell me everything."

Half an hour later Judge Bolitho was in possession, not only of all that Mary knew, but of all her suspicions and her reasons for those suspicions. He had submitted her to a very thorough cross-examination.

His mind had fastened upon a hundred things of which she had taken no cognisance. He saw through the fallacies of her reasoning, and drew his conclusions accordingly. His mind was quick and active now. It seemed as though his freedom from the responsibilities of his judgeship gave him a sense of liberty. The fact that he had work to do had done something to lessen the remorse which was gnawing at his heart.

"I must go over this whole business again, Mary," he said. "Did you say that you had those Brunford papers here with you?"

"Yes, father; every one."

"And I have all the other facts since. Oh, my boy, my boy!"

"You believe you can save him?"

"I will, I will!" he cried. "I have sinned, but G.o.d will never allow me to suffer this. He could not. One thing my confession to-day will do, too--it will give me time. There's sure to be some delay before another judge is appointed, and the whole case will have to be tried again. Meanwhile I must be up and doing."

"Oh, if she were only conscious!" said Mary. "But the doctor says that perhaps she will be unconscious for weeks, and under no circ.u.mstances must she be questioned."

"Did she speak of me?" asked the judge.

"Only indirectly."

"Did she seem to despise me--hate me?"

The girl was silent, and the judge understood what her silence meant.

"It's just," he said. "It's just. But I must save Paul!"

A knock came to the door, and the woman whom Dr. White had obtained told them there was food in the dining-room.

"Thank you," said the judge. "Yes, we must eat, Mary; it seems like waste of time, but we must. And after we have had some dinner I'll read through everything again. There must be a way out. Are you well enough to run upstairs, Mary, and ask how--how--she is?"

There was a strange, yearning look in his eyes as he spoke. He might have been ashamed, too--there was indeed a change in Judge Bolitho.

"She's no worse," said Mary, coming down a few minutes later. "The nurse says she is sleeping peacefully. The doctor will be here in a little while now. He seems a very hard-hearted man, but he admires Paul greatly, and he's very clever."

During the meal both of them were silent. Each, of them had much food for thought, and there are times when words are vain.

"To think," said the judge, when they had finished their dinner, "that I should be here in this way, in my son's house, and that his mother---- Mary, bring me those papers, will you?"

A little later he was deeply immersed in the early history of the trial, noting each detail, fastening upon every weakness of the charge and the difficulties of defence. It seemed to him as though he were practising at the bar again, and he were preparing his case for the defence of the prisoner. But this time he had an interest never known to him before. It was for him to fight for the life of his own son.

Presently he heard the doctor's step on the stairs. He had been in the sick-room, and when he had finished his visit, Mary had led him to the room where her father was. Dr. White looked at the judge curiously.

At each house he had called that afternoon there was but one subject of discussion. No one knew that Judge Bolitho was in Brunford; had they done so, excitement would have exceeded all bounds; but as it was, the confession which he had made had set the whole town talking.

"Will you tell me how my wife is?" asked the judge.

"Your wife?" queried the doctor.

"Yes, my wife. Will you tell me how she is?"

The doctor gave a significant glance at Mary, which the judge was not slow to interpret; but he made no sign. Now that he had made his confession and told the truth, he was the same proud man who, not long before, had been Member of Parliament for that town.

"She's very ill," said the doctor.

"But she will not die, will she?"

"Of course, that's impossible to say. She's a strong woman, but she's had--well, you know what she's had to bear."

The judge nodded. "But will she get better?"

"I do not think she will die just yet."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I think it is possible her body may recover."

"But her mind?" said the judge, noting the significance of the doctor's words.

"Concerning her mind I can promise nothing," said the doctor. "The strain she has borne for so long has been enough to drive one of her sensitive nature mad."

The judge was silent for a few seconds, then he spoke in his old, almost authoritative tones.

"Let nothing be left undone, doctor," he said. "Engage any help you think may be of value to you. You know the best man in your profession. Get into communication with him at once. We must fight, man; we must fight!"

There was a ring of defiance in his voice, and even then Mary thought how different he was from the preceding night, when she had parted from him in Manchester.

"Have you made up your mind what to do, father?" she asked, when the doctor had gone.

"Yes, I have. By the way, Mary, I know you must be longing to ask questions about yourself, but----"

"Don't trouble about me now, father. I know what you are thinking of.

But my name, my future, are nothing compared with---- Oh, father, we must save Paul!"

"If it is within the realm of human possibility we will, Mary."

"And you believe it is?"

"Give me three days," said the father, "and then perhaps I can tell you."

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE TESTIMONY OF ARCHIE FEARN

"Father, have you discovered anything?"

"Nothing," and the judge shook his head despondently. "It seems as though every road is a cul-de-sac. I have followed up hundreds of clues, and they have all ended in nothing."