"

"And yet you are not guilty!"

"I am not; I shall plead not guilty, and leave my fate to the jury."

"Are you mad? Your sister is a sweet young woman, and has interested me
greatly; but, if innocent, you are throwing away your life."

"I am doing my duty, sir; whatever you may think of my conduct, the
secret dies with me."

"And for whom do you sacrifice yourself in this way, if as, you say, and
as your sister declares, you are not guilty?"

Joey made no reply, but sat down on the bedstead.

"If the deed was not done by you, by whom was it done?" urged Mr
Trevor. "If you make no reply to that, I must throw up my brief."

"You said just now," returned Joey, "that if I declared myself guilty of
the murder, you would still defend me; now, because I say I am not, and
will not say who is, you must throw up your brief. Surely you are
inconsistent."

"I must have your confidence, my good lad."

"You never will have more than you have now. I have not requested you
to defend me. I care nothing about defence."

"Then, you wish to be hanged?"

"No, I do not; but, rather than say anything, I will take my chance of
it."

"This is very strange," said Mr Trevor: after a pause, he continued, "I
observe that you are supposed to have killed this man, Byres, when
nobody else was present; you were known to go out with your father's
gun, and the keeper's evidence proved that you poached. Now, as there
is no evidence of intentional murder on your part, it is not impossible
that the gun went off by accident, and that, mere boy as you must have
been at that age, you were so frightened at what had taken place, that
you absconded from fear. It appears to me that that should be our line
of defence."

"I never fired at the man at all," said Joey.

"Who fired the gun, then?" asked Mr Trevor.

Joey made no reply.

"Rushbrook," said Mr Trevor, "I am afraid I can be of little use to
you; indeed, were it not that your sister's tears have interested me, I
would not take up your cause. I cannot understand your conduct, which
appears to me to be absurd; your motives are inexplicable, and all I can
believe is, that you have committed the crime, and will not divulge the
secret to any one, not even to those who would befriend you."

"Think of me what you please, sir," rejoined our hero; "see me
condemned, and, if it should be so, executed; and, after all _that_ has
taken place, believe me, when I assert to you--as I hope for