ntly acting as his friends in the matter, know that I think it
would be far better for him to tell the truth and throw himself on the
mercy of the crown."

"They may not find him guilty," Mr. Thompson said. "The jury will see
that he received very strong provocation; and after all, the evidence
is, so far as we know at present, wholly circumstantial, and unless
the prosecution can bring home to him the possession of the rope, it is
likely enough they will give him the benefit of the doubt."

"His life is ruined anyhow," Mr. Simmonds said. "Poor lad! poor lad!
Another fortnight and I was going to apply for a commission for him.
I wish to heavens I had done so at Christmas, and then all this misery
would have been spared."

As soon as Ned had been led back to the cell Mr. Porson obtained
permission to visit him. He found him in a strange humor.

"Well, my poor boy," he began, "this is a terrible business."

"Who do you mean it is a terrible business for, Mr. Porson, me or him?"

Ned spoke in a hard unnatural voice, without the slightest tone of
trouble or emotion. Mr. Porson perceived at once that his nerves were
brought up to such a state of tension by the events of the preceding
forty-eight hours that he was scarce responsible for what he was saying.

"I think I meant for you, Ned. I cannot pretend to have any feeling for
the man who is dead, especially when I look at your face."

"Yes, it is not a nice position for me," Ned said coldly, "just at the
age of seventeen to be suspected of the murder of one's stepfather, and
such a nice stepfather too, such a popular man in the town! And not only
suspected, but with a good chance of being hung for it."

"Ned, my dear boy," Mr. Porson said kindly, "don't talk in that way. You
know that we, your friends, are sure that you did not do it."

"Are you quite sure, sir?" Ned said. "I am not quite sure myself. I know
I should have done it if I had had the chance. I thought over all sorts
of ways in which I might kill him, and I wouldn't quite swear that I did
not think of this plan and carry it out, though it doesn't quite seem
to me that I did. I have no very definite idea what happened that night,
and certainly could give but a vague account of myself from the time I
left the house till next morning, when I found myself lying stiff and
half frozen on the moor. Anyhow, whether I killed him or not it's all
the same. I should have done so if I could. And if some one else has