“I cannot believe that Mary Monson is the sort of person you take her for! Williams, I’ve always looked upon you, and treated you, as a friend. You may remember how I stood by you in the Middlebury case?”
“Certainly—you did your duty by me in that matter, and I have not forgot it.”
The cause alluded to was an action for a “breach of promise,” which, at one time, threatened all of Williams’s “future usefulness,” as it is termed; but which was put to sleep in the end by means of Timms’s dexterity in managing the “out-door” points of a difficult case.
“Well, then, be my friend in this matter. I will be honest with you, and acknowledge that, as regards my client, I have had—that is provided she is acquitted, and her character comes out fair—that I have had—and still have, for that matter—what——”
“Are called ‘ulterior views.’ I understand you, Timms, and have suspected as much these ten days. A great deal depends on what you consider a fair character. Taking the best view of her situation, Mary Monson will have been tried for murder and arson.”
“Not if acquitted of the first. I have the District Attorney’s promise to consent to a nolle prosequi on the last indictment, if we traverse the first successfully.”
“In which case Mary Monson will have been tried for murder only,” returned Williams, smiling. “Do you really think, Timms, that your heart is soft enough to receive and retain an impression as deep as that made by the seal of the court?”
“If I thought, as you do, that my client is or has been connected with thieves, and burglars, and counterfeiters, I would not think of her for a moment as a wife. But there is a vast difference between a person overtaken by sudden temptation and one who sins on calculation, and by regular habit. Now, in my own case, I sometimes act wrong—yes, I admit as much as that——”
“It is quite unnecessary,” said Williams, drily.
“It is not according to Christian doctrine to visit old offences on a sinner’s head, when repentance has washed away the crime.”