Margaret aroused from her stupor. “Can you tell me,” she asked, abruptly, “what punishment the law provides for forgery?”
The lawyer was taken by surprise. He wondered if his visitor had committed, or perchance was contemplating such a crime, and wished to learn how great a risk it involved.
“Forgery did I understand you to say, madam?” he inquired, partly with a view to gain time.
“Yes.”
“Imprisonment for a term of years.”
“You are sure it is not punished with death,” she asked, eagerly.
“Not in this country. There was a time when it was so punished in England.”
“How long is the usual term of imprisonment?”
“That depends, in some measure, upon the discretion of the court, which is regulated by attendant circumstances. Possibly,” said the lawyer, hazarding a conjecture, as Margaret remained silent, “you have a friend, a relation perhaps (pardon me if I am wrong), who has been unfortunate,”—a delicate way of hinting at crime,—“and in whose behalf you have now come to consult me?”
“A friend!” repeated Margaret, with a bitter smile.