“The weight of evidence is decidedly in favor of Sorley’s guilt,” said Mr. Fuller sadly.
“I daresay. All the same he is innocent.”
“How can you prove that, my dear girl?”
“I can’t prove it,” responded Miss Inderwick in a truly feminine way, “but Uncle Ran never did it for all that.”
“It is all very dreadful,” moaned Mrs. Fuller, shaken out of her usual state of placid happiness. “I wonder you can speak so quietly, Marie.”
“I cried awfully in London,” acknowledged the girl frankly; “but I can’t cry any more. Tears won’t help Uncle Ran, and common-sense will. He is not going to be hanged if I can help it.”
“Oh, my dear.” Mrs. Fuller shuddered at the mention of the sinister word.
“You intend to prove your uncle’s innocence—or what you presume to be his innocence?” asked the vicar, looking at her doubtfully.
“Yes, only I don’t presume anything. I know that Uncle Ran never killed that poor thing. I don’t know who did, but he didn’t.”
“How are you going to set about the matter?”