“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 evidence not adduced at the trial. Well; you must go up and see the judge, since you don’t choose to impart it to any one, and lay it before him. He will doubtless compare it with his notes of the trial, and see how far it agrees with them. Of course you must be prepared with some kind of proof; for Judge Corbet will have to test your evidence.”
“It seems strange to think of him as the judge,” said Ellinor, almost to herself.
“Why, yes. He’s but a young judge. You knew him at Hamley, I suppose? I remember his reading there with Mr. Ness.”
“Yes, but do not let us talk more about that time. Tell me when can I see Dixon? I have been to the castle already, but they said I must have a sheriff’s order.”