“He's all broken up, but says that his son is innocent.”
“Of course, that's to be expected,” said Mary, and then continued, “I saw Mabel Ellicott yesterday. She's in love with him, sure, and of course does not think him guilty. She told me, though, that Bob Wood had said to her that if she were an orphan there would be no objection to their marriage.”
“That would probably go against him, if the prosecution calls her at the trial, and she testifies to that. But, what do you really think about it, Mr. Dana?” asked Quincy.
“I have my suspicions, but I am not going to mention them yet. You two young people are taking hold of the matter in good shape, and I want to see what you can do about it; but, although, I do not say that Wood is not guilty, I do say that I doubt if the government has sufficient evidence to convict him.”
* * * * * * *
Mary became so interested in the case that she decided not to go to the White Mountains for the summer, and Quincy also remained in Fernborough, helping Mary as much as he could. Often they would go off on long tramps in the surrounding country, and once Quincy went to Boston and was gone several days. That they procured some evidence was clear from the satisfied remarks made by Mr. Dana, who approved of the lines on which they were working.
Although they had made some headway they were not ready to present their theories when the time came for Bob Wood's trial. Many thought him innocent, but the jury were of a different opinion, and brought in a verdict of murder in the first degree.
The day after the close of the trial, the district attorney of Normouth County was sitting in his office opposite the Court House. He was preparing his address opposing the granting of a new trial, which he knew would be proposed the next day by the counsel for the defence.
He had gone over the evidence time and time again. He was a conscientious man. He felt that the law of the State had been defied—had been outraged—and yet within his heart was that natural feeling of sympathy and pity for the unfortunate being for whom but a few short weeks of life remained, and he could not help regretting the part he had been obliged to take in convicting the young man.
At that moment, a clerk entered and said that a young lady wished to see him. In obedience to the direction given, the clerk withdrew; the door was opened again, and a blue eyed, fair-haired girl entered. Standing near the district attorney's desk, she said: