membered all that rumour had said during her
father's political contest in Brunford, knew that it was the talk of
the town that Wilson had tried to ruin him. And Paul Stepaside was not
a gentle man. He was strong, passionate--a man who in his anger would
stop at nothing. Had Wilson, she wondered, aroused him to some
uncontrollable fury? And had Paul, in his anger, struck him down? But
a knife in his back, what did it mean? Paul could never do that, and
yet----

She felt her head swim. It seemed to her as though her senses were
leaving her. The vision of her father standing before her, pale-faced
and horror-stricken, was a blurred one. Nothing was real except that
ghastly terror was everywhere.

"Of course, it can't be true!" she said, at length.

"But don't you see, it's from his father? It was sent off this
morning. I wonder--no, I wonder at nothing! My God! what shall I do?"

Even at this moment he seemed to be thinking more of himself than of
the agony which must be realised in Brunford. It was not Ned Wilson's
death which had whitened his face and caused him to tremble so. It was
the thought of his own ruin. Unless he could meet his liabilities, he,
an English judge, might be disgraced. Still, no; he thought he could
manage everything. It only wanted time, and perhaps--well, things
might not be so bad after all.

"But it can't be true!" repeated the girl. "Paul Stepaside could never
do such a thing."

Judge Bolitho had mastered himself by this time. His eager quick mind
had grasped all the bearings of the case. He remembered his last
interview with young Wilson, and the arrangement which had been made.
Yes, things were not so bad, after all. He could manage.

"Of course he did it!" was his answer. "Who else could there be?
Stepaside was Ned's only enemy."

"What will the Wilsons feel?" said the girl. "The horror of it! But
surely he could not be capable of it! He could not do it!"

"He's capable of anything devilish!" replied her father. "I felt it
years ago, when I got him sent to prison. Of course, his name was
cleared somewhat, but he was always an incipient criminal of the worst
order--clever, if you like--ambitious, undoubtedly, but he belonged to
the criminal class. And yet---- There, don't you see, 'Stepaside
apprehended.' I thought he was too cunning for that, anyhow. I judged
that a man of his order would have done the deed in such a way that the
guilt would seem to