Faradeane took it with the faintest gesture of surprise.
“I suppose you don’t remember me, my lord!” said Mr. Edgar. “I was a guest at a river party you gave some years ago.”
Faradeane passed his hand across his brow.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, “I had forgotten. I am sorry that we should meet again under such circumstances.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Mr. Edgar, “and yet I cannot help feeling glad that the judge should have trusted your case to me. We have so short a time in which to confer, that I am sure you will forgive me if I proceed at once to discuss the matter. I need not say, my lord, that I myself, speaking as a counsel, am quite convinced of your innocence. It is not for me to ask you why you have seen fit to plead guilty to a crime for which I, for one, am perfectly sure you were utterly incapable. But I wish most earnestly, in fact, it is my duty, to point out to you that unless some evidence can be produced to rebut that which the prosecution have already produced, and that which I believe they have still in hand, you stand in the most terrible peril. I will ask you only one question bearing directly on the death of this unfortunate woman. Will you tell me, my lord, as man to man—as prisoner to his counsel—did she commit suicide?”
Faradeane turned his head away, and was silent for a moment; then he said, “No.”
An expression of surprise crossed Mr. Edgar’s face, and he looked down and bit his lip as if puzzled.
“She did not commit suicide?” he said. “Then how am I to account for the presence of the revolver bearing your name? If she had committed suicide, I could have accounted for the revolver being in her possession, as part of the property which may have fallen into her hands as your wife. How am I to account for this?”
“Mr. Edgar,” said Faradeane, gravely, “I can understand your desire to do your duty, and to assist me; and, believe me, it costs me a great deal not to be able to tell all that I should like to tell you; but I have reasons for remaining silent. That these reasons are all-powerful with me you may well believe, when I am content to plead guilty to a crime the penalty for which is the scaffold. I can render you no assistance. It was not by my wish that you were appointed my counsel. I cannot close your lips. I cannot, in the face of the court, decline the aid which it has appointed; but I can say nothing to help you in this matter.”
Mr. Edgar took one or two paces up and down the narrow cell.