"Such an inference may be drawn, but an inference won't help us. It's no good mincing matters. Dr. Vinsen is on the right side of the hedge, and we are on the wrong, and that makes all the difference; he has the advantage of us. Reginald has put it clearly, and we must be prepared. Every hour a fresh complication crops up, and there's no telling what the next will bring forth. You see a man with an open newspaper in his hand; peep over his shoulder to find out what he's reading. It's the Catchpole Square Mystery, and he's running his eyes eagerly down the columns to see if anybody's caught, if anybody's charged. It scares me to think of it."
"What do you mean, father?" asked Aunt Rob.
"Have you ever seen a bull-baiting without the bull?" said Uncle Rob, gravely. "The public's waiting for the bull, and they won't rest satisfied till he's in the ring. That's where the danger is. They don't care a straw whether it's the right bull or the wrong bull; they want something to bait."
Reginald compressed his lips; he understood the drift of Uncle Rob's remarks.
"Do you mean to say that they don't want to see fair play?" said Aunt Rob.
"I don't mean that. What I'm driving at is that Dick's prejudice against Dr. Vinsen, whatever it may be worth, won't help us."
"It will," said Dick, in a positive tone, "and I'm going to follow it up. Just answer me this. Do you consider that the inquest is being properly carried on? Do you consider it fair that private family affairs should be dragged before the public in the way they have been?"
"I don't consider it fair."
"Well, then, who is chiefly responsible for it? Who but the juryman that little Gracie catches conspiring with Dr. Vinsen?"
"Conspiring!"