work for a time. Such was the old
custom of the place. Ellinor rose up, and made her way back to Mr.
Johnson's house in High Street. The room felt close and confined in
which she awaited her interview with Mr. Johnson, who had sent down an
apology for having overslept himself, and at last made his appearance in
a hurried half-awakened state, in consequence of his late hospitality of
the night before.

"I am so sorry I gave you all so much trouble last night," said Ellinor,
apologetically. "I was overtired, and much shocked by the news I heard."

"No trouble, no trouble, I am sure. Neither Mrs. Johnson nor I felt it
in the least a trouble. Many ladies I know feel such things very trying,
though there are others that can stand a judge's putting on the black cap
better than most men. I'm sure I saw some as composed as could be under
Judge Corbet's speech."

"But about Dixon? He must not die, Mr. Johnson."

"Well, I don't know that he will," said Mr. Johnson, in something of the
tone of voice he would have used in soothing a child. "Judge Corbet said
something about the possibility of a pardon. The jury did not recommend
him to mercy: you see, his looks went so much against him, and all the
evidence was so strong, and no defence, so to speak, for he would not
furnish any information on which we could base defence. But the judge
did give some hope, to my mind, though there are others that think
differently."

"I tell you, Mr. Johnson, he must not die, and he shall not. To whom
must I go?"

"Whew! Have you got additional evidence?" with a sudden sharp glance of
professional inquiry.

"Never mind," Ellinor answered. "I beg your pardon . . . only tell me
into whose hands the power of life and death has passed."

"Into the Home Secretary's--Sir Phillip Homes; but you cannot get access
to him on such an errand. It is the judge who tried the case that must
urge a reprieve--Judge Corbet."

"Judge Corbet?"

"Yes; and he was rather inclined to take a merciful view of the whole
case. I saw it in his charge. He'll be the person for you to see. I
suppose you don't like to give me your confidence, or else I could
arrange and draw up what will have to be said?"

"No. What I have to say must be spoken to the arbiter--to no one else. I
am afraid I answered you impatiently just now. You must forgive me; if
you knew all, I am sure you would."

"Say no more, my dear lady. We will suppose you have some evid