shall do my best, but the verdict
will certainly be murder; and the judge, I think, is sure to take a
severe view. We may get a recommendation to mercy, though I believe it
to be extremely unlikely. But if so, the influence of the judge,
according to what I hear, will probably be against us. The prosecution
have got together extremely strong evidence--as to Hurd's long
connection with the gang, in spite of the Raeburns' kindness--as to his
repeated threats that he would 'do for' Westall if he and his friends
were interrupted--and so on. His own story is wholly uncorroborated; and
Dynes's deposition, so far as it goes, is all against it."

He went on to elaborate these points with great clearness of exposition
and at some length; then he paused.

"This being so," he resumed, "the question is, what can be done? There
must be a petition. Amongst my own party I shall be, of course, able to
do something, but we must have men of all sides. Without some at least
of the leading Conservatives, we shall fare badly. In one word--do you
imagine that you can induce Mr. Raeburn and Lord Maxwell to sign?"

Mrs. Boyce watched him keenly. Marcella sat in frozen paleness.

"I will try," she said at last, with deliberation.

"Then"--he took up his gloves--"there may be a chance for us. If you
cannot succeed, no one else can. But if Lord Maxwell and Mr. Raeburn can
be secured, others will easily follow. Their names--especially under all
the circumstances--will carry a peculiar weight. I may say everything,
in the first instance--the weight, the first effect of the
petition--depends on them. Well, then, I leave it in your hands. No time
should be lost after the sentence. As to the grounds of our plea, I
shall, of course, lay them down in court to the best of my ability."

"I shall be there," she interrupted.

He started. So did Mrs. Boyce, but characteristically she made no
comment.

"Well, then," he resumed after a pause, "I need say no more for the
present. How is the wife?"

She replied, and a few other formal sentences of inquiry or comment
passed between them.

"And your election?" said Mrs. Boyce, still studying him with hostile
eyes, as he got up to take leave.

"To-morrow!" He threw up his hands with a little gesture of impatience.
"That at least will be one thread spun off and out of the way, whatever
happens. I must get back to Widrington as fast as my pony can carry me.
Good-bye, Miss Boyce."

Marcella went slowly