CHAPTER XIX.
A Clear Conscience Better than Money
“I do not understand, Pat, what made Pearson confess so meekly. He could at least have pleaded innocent until his trial. You know sometimes things look dark, and then a criminal can get out of it.”
“Perhaps he thinks he can get out of here.”
“Well, we will not have his trial here and now, without judge or jury; so, Pat, you may go and see if all is right among your fellow-men.”
“I wonder if he understood what I meant to tell him all the time—what I was going to do—when he said he could forgive once and twice, and the old adage. I just as good as told him it would be twice, two of us, and the third time not here, and that was the daughter; she is not here to help get away, so there is the whole thing in a nut-shell. And the blockhead did not get it.”
“I think Pat thinks he will make his get-away with his prisoner, and be a gentleman. I’m sorry for Pat. Now I have a problem to solve within myself. Shall I let him go ahead and make his plans, or shall I stop him before he gets started, and save the poor Irishman from occupying cell No. 76? I believe I can gain some knowledge by being deaf to it all. He is surely a clever Irishman, and I will see what plans he will make to escape with his prisoner, and I may be gaining knowledge, but I could not do so by sitting on Pat’s seat of knowledge, so I think I will not leave this office.”
“I hope that I shall receive a reply in regard to the real murderer, and that he will be brought here. That will help to open the way to a clear discovery of all this plot.
“What! A knock? I do hope that I shall not find a lady there.”