st the
accused. On the other hand, to retain it, unless he were prepared to
bring the case fully home to the prisoner, would be alike a breach of
professional honour and an act of dishonesty. He resolved at last to
leave the choice to his friend.

'George,' he said.

The other slowly lifted his head. Looking upon that face, his friend
could see the marks of the terrible experience he was passing through.
Tressamer had always been a youth of wild and stormy emotions; no man
less calm and steadfast than Prescott could have maintained a
friendship so long with such a nature. But now he was struggling with
passions compared with which the emotions of schoolboys were as
nothing.

'George, what shall I do? I want you to decide. You know me too well
to think I care about the little benefit to myself when it's a case of
life and death with a friend like you. Shall I chuck up the case?'

Tressamer gazed at him gratefully at first, and then with a
hesitating, pondering look. Finally he said:

'You have read your brief, and, of course, you know the worst. Tell
me, what do you think, honestly?'

'Honestly, George, I see no defence. There is no doubt the old woman
has been murdered. I don't see how it could have been done by anyone
outside the house; and then there is the blood on the door-handle. I
may tell you that, even before I knew how you stood, in reading the
brief I felt a sort of hesitation--that is, I couldn't get that
feeling of confidence that one generally has in one's case when the
evidence is clear. I felt as if I shouldn't put much heart into the
prosecution. But, still, I don't see what defence there is.'

Tressamer listened in silence, and let a moment or two go by before he
gave his decision.

'I would rather you kept your brief. I would rather you did it. After
all, you have merely a mechanical part to perform; it is only routine.
Suppose I were to have a limb amputated, I should like it to be done
by a man I knew. And this is something of the same sort. The evidence
is there, and you will not make it any worse--or better.'

The other was shocked at the gloomy, resigned way in which he spoke.

'Good heavens! you don't mean that you too believe----'

'No, Charles. I believe she is innocent. But I do not expect her
innocence will ever be proved in this world.'

'Oh, come, you mustn't give up now! All sorts of things may happen.
The trial may go differently to what you expect. Half the time these
wit