Ingleby, in spite of his protestations, drew a deep breath of relief, but Leger, who appeared to be recovering now, smiled.
"Well," he said, "you're satisfied, but it doesn't in the least affect the position. You see, the military gentleman appeared certain he saw me strike the blow, and I scarcely think my word would go very far against his with the usual kind of jury."
"You know who did it?"
Leger smiled curiously. "I do, but you ought to understand that the fact isn't of much use to me."
"You mean?"
"I could plead not guilty, but I couldn't point out the man responsible. You see, I induced him to join the Society, and gave him the American's pamphlets—I believe the more virulent ones. They seemed to make a strong impression on him. One can't well back out of his responsibility—especially when the adversary is always ready to make the most of the opportunity. Besides, the man has a family."
Ingleby clenched one hand. "And you have Hetty."
"Yes," said Leger with an impressive quietness. "And Hetty has only me. Still, one must do what he feels he has to."
"But you can't leave Hetty—and what would happen to her if you were——"
"If I were in jail?" and Leger's face went awry. "She would be turned out of her berth to a certainty. It didn't quite strike me until you put the thing before me. There's the lad's mother too. A little horrible, isn't it? How long does one usually get for manslaughter?"