Judge Henderson hesitated for just a moment. "Believe at least this much, Hod," said he. "I didn't know as much at first as I do now. She—she told me all—I saw it all—last night. I want to tell the truth—near as I know. When I saw the boy in Blackman's court—it didn't seem possible, and yet it did. But who gave you the notion? What made you suspect it? You didn't suspect it then, in the justice court, did you?"
"Only vaguely," said Hod Brooks; "not so very much. I'll tell you who did—a woman."
"Aurora?"
"No—Miss Julia. Miss Julia sat there looking from the face of Don Lane to your own face. There was something in her face—I can't tell what. Why, hell! I don't suppose a man ever does know what's going on in a woman's heart, least of all a crude man like me, that never had any fine feelings in all his life. But there was something there in Miss Julia's face—I can't tell what. In some way, in her mind, she was connecting those two faces that she saw before her. If I hadn't seen her face, I wouldn't ever have suspected you of being the father of that boy!
"But something stuck in my mind. Now, this morning, getting ready to prepare my case, defending this boy, I went over to Miss Julia's library. I still remembered what I had seen. I found this picture there—she had that other picture there, hanging on her wall, too. She had them both! One was on the wall and the other on her desk. Now, she had certainly established some connection in her own mind between those two pictures, or else she wouldn't have had them there both right before her."
"Then you, too, know," interrupted Henderson, "the story of those two women—how they brought him up from babyhood—and kept the secret? Why did Miss Julia do that?"
"Because she was a woman."
"But why didn't she tell?"
"Because she was a woman."
"But why—what makes you suppose she ever would care in the first place for this boy when he was a baby?"