Christmas passed away and the New Year came, and there was nothing further in the newspapers about Paul Stepaside save that he was lying in Strangeways Gaol in Manchester awaiting the coming Assizes. Early in the New Year, however, Mary noticed that her father's face looked strangely perturbed. He was very silent, and seemed very anxious.
"What is the matter?" she asked. "Aren't you well?"
"Oh, yes, quite well," he replied.
"What is it, then?"
"I don't like it," said the Judge. "As far as I can see, I shall have to try Stepaside. I thought I should have escaped it, but for some reason or other Leeson has dropped out, and I am the next on the rota. There is not sufficient reason, either, why I should raise any objection, and, after all, the jury will have to decide his guilt, not I. Besides, if I did, it would cause a certain amount of comment. Still, I don't like it." And it was easy to see, by the look on his face, that he meant what he said. Much as he had always disliked Paul Stepaside, he shrank from having to give judgment against him—and that, he seemed to believe, would be inevitable.
"It is settled," he said a day or two later. "I have to go to Lancashire next week."
"Father," said the girl, "let me go with you, will you?"
"Go with me, Mary? Surely you do not mean to say that you wish to stay at the Wilsons'?"
"Oh, no," she cried quickly. "But I should like to be near you. There are good hotels both in Manchester and Liverpool, and I dread the thought of staying here alone."
"The Gordons have invited you to go to their place. Why not accept the invitation?"