The girl looked anxiously around the room, then went to the door and peered into the passage outside.
"Can't you think, father? Whom would he be likely to shield? I accused her of it this afternoon. I could not help it. The doctor doesn't know, but that's why she's so ill now. When she realised what I meant, she seemed like one struck down by a blow."
"You mean to say," he gasped, "that you believe Jean—that is, his mother—was——" He did not finish the sentence. It seemed too horrible, too terrible.
"No, Mary," he continued at length. "That's not it."
"But it must be, father."
"No; that's not it. Now then, tell me everything you know. You went to Dixon Street this morning; the woman told me all about it. You brought her here. You had a talk with her. Tell me everything that has taken place. You went to see Paul before the trial, too. Tell me everything."
Half an hour later Judge Bolitho was in possession, not only of all that Mary knew, but of all her suspicions and her reasons for those suspicions. He had submitted her to a very thorough cross-examination. His mind had fastened upon a hundred things of which she had taken no cognisance. He saw through the fallacies of her reasoning, and drew his conclusions accordingly. His mind was quick and active now. It seemed as though his freedom from the responsibilities of his judgeship gave him a sense of liberty. The fact that he had work to do had done something to lessen the remorse which was gnawing at his heart.
"I must go over this whole business again, Mary," he said. "Did you say that you had those Brunford papers here with you?"
"Yes, father; every one."
"And I have all the other facts since. Oh, my boy, my boy!"